Chapter One Hundred and Sixty One

...

Alice was going to throw up. After everything that had happened from the whirlwind of leaving her home and everything she knew behind, after being confined with Buddy and Kid for months without leaving or seeing the outside world, the six-hour drive from their hiding place to the middle of Maxville's metropolis, all of it overwhelmed her. The time felt like nothing though, because her baby boy was in one of these buildings, and she was finally going to see him again.

What if he didn't recognise her? It had been months, after all. He might've been hurt or brainwashed or something else awful might have happened. What would she do if he didn't recognise his own mother anymore?

Her stomach rolled and she pressed her hands to it, trying to hold herself together.

"Alice? Are you all right, dearest?" Kid asked, glancing at her from the front seat.

"I need air," she said, the words choked out, even though the air conditioner was blasting her to the point that her thick hair was actually moving.

"Pull over, Bud. I told you not to buy hot dogs," Kid muttered.

Alice barely heard Buddy's retort as the van slowed and she threw herself out, heaving and retching until there was nothing left in her stomach, and then some more. Her awareness came back slowly, cars speeding past and Kid's hands holding her hair as Buddy rubbed her back in soothing circles.

Her legs trembled as she straightened up once more, feeling sick and horrible.

"The hot dogs were a bad idea, I get it. Shut up, Kid," Buddy muttered, nudging him.

"It wasn't the hot dogs. How much longer?" Alice asked weakly.

"Five minutes. We have to go in through the back; there's underground parking, and Hourglass has the kids waiting by the elevators," Kid reported.

"Can we get as close to the elevators as possible? I don't know that I can walk far, not today," Alice admitted, the van already an epic distance away.

"I'll drive you into the elevators if you want, Alice dear," Buddy said, winking.

Alice tried to smile at the joke, but it fell flat. "I just want my son."

"We know. We'll get you there. Hourglass said toothpaste and a toothbrush would be too weird, so we got water and mints instead. There's spearmint, peppermint, and bubblegum flavour; which one do you prefer?" Kid offered, hugging her as gently as he could while leading her back to the car.

"Uh... peppermint. Who got the bubblegum?"

Buddy grinned. "Me. It was on sale; it's a special edition with cherry flavouring."

"On sale and special edition just means it's gross," Kid said, rolling his eyes. "We'll be there soon, I'll pass the mints through the window for you, okay?"

Alice nodded and closed the door behind her, Buddy hurrying back to the driver's seat.

Sipping the water, Alice then had a handful of mints and hoped her breath wouldn't be horrible by the time she saw Chayton. She closed her eyes and chewed, letting the argument about flavoured mints wash over her as five minutes felt like five hundred.

...

Layla finished reading over the homework packet that Mr. Bowie had sent with Ethan and set the papers down, deciding to read the next chapter in Lionheart's book later when her head wasn't fuzzy. She looked over at Warren and saw that he was asleep again. She missed his warmth beside her - not even his powered warmth, but just the regular warmth of his body - but didn't want to wake him just for that.

"'m awake, just resting my eyes."

"You should be asleep. And how did you feel me through your tattoo?" Layla asked.

Warren blinked sleepily, turning his head to look over at her, a small and tired grin on his face. "I didn't. Could feel you watching me."

Layla felt her cheeks redden. "I wasn't watching you, I just looked over."

"Mm. I believe you. Want to cuddle?" Warren asked, patting the bed beside him.

"Ida always seems to walk in as soon as we start cuddling."

Warren snorted. "Yeah, true. We just finished a checkup though, she might give us more than ten minutes alone now."

"Good point. All right. I'll come over there, you just keep resting your eyes," Layla said, trying not to focus on the large bruises covering his knuckles from where he'd punched the wardens.

His split and bloodied skin had healed fairly fast, but the bruises were slower to go down thanks to the drugs Ida had given them. She said it was medically necessary so she could see what was broken beneath the skin once the swelling went down, rather than relying purely on their power to heal them. Layla was fine with that, for the most part, but she didn't like the idea of taking months to heal like a citizen would rather than weeks like a super could.

"Ida's going to catch us cuddling just because it takes us twenty minutes to move between our beds," Layla joked as she finally managed to get out of her blanket and lower the frame on the bed, swinging her legs over the edge.

She refused to look down at her own bruises, though they were starting to yellow and slowly heal.

Warren let out a laugh that was more like a sigh. "Hmm, sounds about right."

Layla stood up and slowly, carefully, then finally made it to Warren's bed. She lowered his frame, waiting until he'd moved back and was comfortable enough for her to join him. Relief filled her as his warmth pressed against her, the feeling so encompassing that Layla was sure Warren would be able to feel it through their tattoos, no matter the drugs they were on. If he did, Warren didn't comment.

"Can't cuddle properly, damn needle," Warren muttered.

"This is good," Layla promised, kissing his jawline gently and settling back down against his chest.

Warren couldn't stop a fond smile from forming, even if he'd wanted to. "Yeah, it is."

By the time Ida returned to their room fifteen minutes later, she was unsurprised to see Layla and Warren on the same bed - again - and fast asleep. Glad that she wouldn't have to call Sandsapien to get them to sleep, at the very least, Ida left their food on the table beside Warren's bed and went downstairs to have her own lunch.

...

Lupo wasn't allowed to leave the garage, but as his mother was finally coming, he didn't want to leave. He was, however, restless and couldn't shift in the garage with so many cars coming and going. Pacing back and forth seemed to help, though he stopped and looked at every car, sniffing to see if this car was finally the one with his mother.

Chayton was waiting with Hourglass, the two of them the last out of ten to be picked up. Hourglass had organised for several parents to be hidden until their children could be rescued. Lupo was curious how many parents hadn't survived or been warned in time, but didn't dare ask. He'd heard enough horror stories from others at the orphanage and considered himself one of the lucky ones since his mother was still alive and wanted him.

Imagine having a kid and then getting rid of them because they weren't versions of an impossible ideal? It was fucking stupid, if you asked him. What kind of psycho wanted a kid without a personality or free will or the ability to think on their own?! Might as well get a stick and put clothes on it, for all that it was worth.

A van pulled into the parking garage and Lupo and Chayton both stilled, wondering whose parent was arriving. The van hadn't even stopped before the back opened and a woman threw herself out to hug Chayton tightly. Glad that his friend's mother had finally arrived, Lupo stopped pacing to watch as the brunette hugged Chay so tight he was practically gasping for air. The van had finally stopped, two men exiting the front seats, armed and looking up and down the garage with all the precision and paranoia of military men.

"You almost gave us a heart attack, Alice! You couldn't have waited three seconds more so Kid could park?" Buddy asked, somewhere between fondly exasperated and scared because she'd almost tripped over the damn kerb and brained herself on the concrete.

Alice was crying and didn't reply. Kid offered her a handkerchief, concerned about the colour the bald child in her arms was turning.

"Chay needs to breathe, Alice. Kid, Buddy, you're needed for debrief with Security. Room 638," Hourglass said.

"Yes, ma'am," Kid said, swallowing his disappointment that he wouldn't be able to say more to Alice.

"Don't forget about next week, Alice," Buddy reminded, his words enough to make her pull away from her son, Chayton gasping for oxygen even as he clung to his mother.

Alice's cheeks were bright red but she nodded firmly. "I'll let you know when I'm available."

"Excellent. Goodbye, dear Alice. Chayton, lovely to see you in person. Hourglass, where is room 638?" Buddy asked.

"Level six. You can find it, I'm sure."

"See you next week, Alice dear," Kid said, practically pulling Buddy into the apartment building before he could give into the temptation of kissing the fuck out of Alice now that she was no longer their charge.

Lupo thought the adults were acting weird, but was more worried about Chay's red cheeks. He seemed okay now that he was breathing properly again, and Chay looked over to him, a question in his gaze. Lupo shrugged, trying not to feel like the last kid to be picked up from school, and looked to the garage entrance once more.

"Don't worry, she'll be here in five... four... three," Hourglass counted.

Lupo's heart was in his throat as the seer counted down, and he felt it plummet all the way down to his stomach when no car pulled into the garage. Did she get it wrong? Could seers be wrong?

He didn't get a chance to question her as arms wrapped around him tightly. He recognised the tattoos on his mother's arm instantly and relaxed against her, relief flooding him and tears filling his eyes. Lupo turned and Lottie was right there, tears in her eyes as well, and looking odd without her usual dress and headband. It was probably the third time in his life he'd seen his mother wear jeans and a t-shirt.

"What're you wearing?" Lupo asked, even as Lottie laughed and pulled him in for a proper hug, all encompassing and making every awful thing that had happened over the last four months feel small and far away.

"I had to blend in with people. I wasn't given a choice," Lottie said with a half hearted glare at Killer and Champ.

"We let you choose the shirt," Champ replied.

"You would've had me in a turtleneck," Lottie argued back.

Champ grinned. "Now that would've been for our benefit - "

"Debriefing upstairs. Room 638," Hourglass said, pushing Killer and Champ towards the service elevator they'd come from.

"Thank you for bringing me to my son," Lottie said with a teary smile.

"Always, Lottie love. We'll call in a few days, once you're all settled in," Killer promised, even as the doors closed on him and Champ.

Their exchange made Alice realise she hadn't even thanked Buddy and Kid for bringing her to Chayton safely. She would thank them later, she told herself; for now, she needed to be with her son.

...

Bader pulled up to the garage, wondering if he was absolutely ridiculous for doing this.

There were other cute guys in the city, surely one of them would be willing to date him? Moreso, they hadn't seen him make a complete fool of himself and semi-rejected him the last time he'd attempted to ask them out. Ugh, he was ridiculous for doing this, and he was just going to leave before anyone saw him.

Unknown number: I can see you hiding in your car, Bader.

The unknown number that had messaged him the day before had been signed 'Nigel' and while he didn't entirely want to know how the AI had got his phone number, Bader couldn't deny that he was curious to know why he was messaging him. Telling him to bring a turkey sub was just weird, especially if Quentin preferred meatballs.

Don't think about Quentin and balls... and it was too late for that. Super God damn his brain.

Bader didn't know whether to groan or giggle like he still had the maturity of a twelve year old. If Oberon were here instead of at school, he would have been laughing his turquoise and purple ass off.

Unknown number: Would you come inside already? The sub is probably getting soggy.

"Ah, fuck it," Bader muttered, grabbing the bag with the sub, and getting out of his car.

"Mr. Quentin, you have a visitor," Nigel called out as Bader approached the garage's doorway. Bader would have called the tone gleeful if he'd thought an AI could have emotions.

"Be right there!" Quentin called out from the back room.

"You said he invited me to lunch," Bader hissed... at the car.

Great, not only was he talking to the car, now he had to go and glare at the inanimate object, too.

"Incorrect, Mr. Bader. I said Mr. Quentin wanted you to visit. The sub was merely an excuse for you. You can thank me later."

"Bader?" Quentin said in surprise, cleaning his hands on a cloth as he walked into the garage. "What are you doing here?" he asked, then turned abruptly to glare at Nigel. "What did you do?"

"I simply requested Bader to bring you your lunch. Tuesday is turkey sub on rye bread with sauerkraut, gherkins, and Swiss cheese, if I remember correctly, and I always do."

"Uh, sorry, I... Nigel... That is, I brought your lunch because... well, that's... never mind. Uh, here. I'll... I'll leave you in peace," Bader said, setting the brown paper bag on the workbench and stepping back, his hands up in a gesture of peace. Or perhaps surrender.

Bader turned and left, groaning softly as he headed to his car. He was ridiculous and his only consolation was that no one knew he was here. If his family knew he'd been rejected twice - and once because of a damned car - he'd never live it down. How the hell did Aleph get Thana to date him within a week of being in the city, and he couldn't even get a greeting with anything other than confusion from Quentin? Not that he was comparing Thana and Quentin because that was wrong on so many levels.

"Mr. Bader is leaving again, Mr. Quentin."

"I know, I can see that."

"Exactly how many hours did you spend fixated on your regret the last time you let Mr. Bader leave?"

Quentin took a moment to realise Nigel was being sarcastic. "Oh. Bader, wait a moment," he called just as Bader opened his door.

He looked over, the evil feeling of hope filling his chest. Bader saw Quentin holding the bag he'd brought the sub in and wondered if there was something wrong with the food, the hope gone in an instant. Fuck, he knew he should've gone to a deli instead of trying to make it himself. Pepe had helped without too many questions, which was practically a miracle considering his father's curious nature, and Bader felt like the sub wasn't the worst thing he'd made. It was his first time making food for a citizen. Or anyone outside of family, for that matter.

"Would you like to eat lunch with me?" Quentin asked, his cheeks red.

Bader blinked. "Pardon?"

"Would you like to eat lunch with me?" Quentin repeated.

"Yes," Bader said quickly, before he could change his mind. "Uh... I don't have any food." he said, frowning. Vaguely remembering Barney leaving the kitchen while he'd been preoccupied with the sub, Bader almost hoped that his father had been his usual self. "Wait, let me check the back. Pepe probably hid something. Uh, Pepe is my father, by the way," Bader added quickly, trying not to jog the mere metre to the back of the car to open the boot.

Seeing a cooler bag that he certainly hadn't put there, Bader promised himself to be extra nice to Pepe that night.

"Where did you buy the sub from?" Quentin asked curiously as they headed back to the garage together.

"I... I made it. I bought the ingredients at the store, I mean, but I put it together. Is that okay? I should have asked, but I didn't know if Nigel knew whether that would be okay."

Quentin seemed surprised again, but nodded. "That's okay."

They slipped into silence as they walked to the garage together, Quentin showing Bader through to his office.

Bader didn't know what to do. Did he talk? Did they just eat? Was small talk possible while trying to eat, anyway? Super Jesus, his last date had been far too long ago, and he had no idea if things had changed since then.

"Do you want to talk while we eat?" he blurted out, hoping he sounded far more suave than he felt.

Quentin wrinkled his nose - oh, Super God, he wasn't allowed to look so cute while Bader was trying not to have a panic attack- and shook his head. "I don't like talking with my mouth full. I... I've been told I am particular."

"Particular?" Bader asked, rolling the word around in his mouth and wondering if it was a compliment or insult, and if it was the latter, who he needed to kick in the groin for insulting Quentin in such a way.

Quentin's cheeks were red again and he nodded. "I am, ahem, set in my ways, and I am very firm about what I like and don't like."

Bader blinked and then grinned, slow and warm. "That is good. We can eat, then talk after, and you can tell me if you like or don't like me, yes?"

Surprised yet again - Quentin wasn't a fan of surprises, overall, but he found that he wasn't upset by Bader's surprise visit nor his surprise lunch (if he'd made it correctly, at least), or his surprising response - he nodded firmly. He looked at Bader, delaying yet another moment before he could eat his lunch. "Will you be angry if I say I don't like you?"

Quentin had had people interested in him before, but they never lasted long, often called him callousand cruel and cold because he said what he felt. He preferred the truth and always thought others would, too, but they rarely did. It was one of those things Quentin was particular about and couldn't change, even if he wanted to.

Bader shook his head. "I won't be angry; you cannot help the way you feel. I will be disappointed because I am sure I will like you, but my feelings are my own, just as yours are yours. Shall we eat now? I don't want your sub to get soggy," he added, remembering Nigel's earlier message.

Quentin nodded in response and took a bite of his sub. Beside him, Bader opened the cooler bag to discover that Barney had made beef and bug empanadas, his favourite.

Pepe was getting a hug for three whole seconds when he got home, Bader decided.

...

"You know that Business 101 assignment we had to do?" Jewel asked Beau curiously, sitting beside him and swinging her legs over his lap.

"Hmm?" Beau murmured, frowning when he thought about it and turned his attention to Jewel, his hand stroking her calves gently. "The essay about consumerism or the one about creating a business?"

"Creating a business."

"Oh, yeah. Didn't you say Professor Ludlum was taking a while with yours? Did she finally get back to you?" Beau asked, squeezing gently.

"Yeah, she did. She thinks it's a good idea and would be a perfect alter ego for a super like me, where I can't go into real estate without constantly being powered down by an external influence."

Beau stopped his ministrations and frowned again. "So... you got a good score on the assignment?"

"I think so. I was reading the feedback and got caught up in it," Jewel admitted, then decided her laptop was too far away to check. "I think she's right, though."

"Jewel, babe. You're not making much sense here. Comms 101: clear, concise, coherent, and correct."

Jewel nodded, inhaled, exhaled, and looked at Beau firmly. "I want to create a business for my super alter ego. Since I can't pass for 'normal' in society, I want everyone to know I own it without needing an alter ego in the first place. An alter ego would just be lying to customers, and I don't want to do that if I don't have to. Besides, having a super attached to a business improves popularity and sales, as we both know from that consumerism essay."

"All right. What kind of business? You didn't let me look at your assignment," Beau added, resuming stroking Jewel's calves when she nudged him with her knee.

She grinned broadly. "Jewellery, of course."

...

Mr. Brighton had smoked once as a rebellious teenager. He hadn't enjoyed it, the taste thick and clogging in his lungs, and he'd never picked them up again. Today, however, the urge to have nicotine filling his body and smoke in his lungs was overwhelming. He found himself at a corner store, buying a packet of cigarettes and a tiny lighter, no bigger than his pinkie.

With this task done, he returned to his car to drive to work. He could smoke along the way and keep the windows down so no one at work would know he had smoked when he had never shown an interest in them before. They probably wouldn't have said anything had they known, anyway. Everyone knew of his children going to another family and his wife divorcing him. The papers had gone through only last week, in fact, Mr. Brighton signing them with all the feeling of a plank of wood.

Behind the wheel of his car, Mr. Brighton opened the packet and lit a cigarette, taking one drag and coughing almost immediately. Getting the hang of smoking took almost three cigarettes and a significant amount of fuel, so much so that he needed to get gas or else he'd break down before reaching work.

Knowing there was a gas station a few streets over, Mr. Brighton glanced over his shoulder and turned into the next street when he saw the coast was clear. Another street and another turn, and he could see the gas station up ahead, just beyond the red light. Stopped at the traffic light and behind several cars, he lit another cigarette.

A horn sounded behind him, the light green for the whole of half a second, and Mr. Brighton drove straight into the intersection without looking. A truck barrelled down the hill and in a split second, Mr. Brighton's car was smashed into, the cigarette flying out of his mouth and landing on the seat beside him. The cigarette didn't matter though, it was a tiny ember that wouldn't harm a fly, and the lighter was too small an accelerant to do much damage.

The truck driver yanked the hand brake as hard as he could, pumping the brake pedal several times so the truck wouldn't veer out of control. Mr. Brighton's car helped to slow the truck's descent so the truck driver, having done all he could do, jumped out of the cab and ran as far away from the truck as possible.

Mr. Brighton felt as though the world had slowed and, for the first time in almost a year, feelings started to return to his body. Vines slithered out of his body, shrinking down into harmless seeds. Fear hit him as fast as a truck speeding down a hill. His heart sped in his chest, the combination of shock and fear too much for a man who hadn't felt any emotions in so long. His heart gave out, even as the car and truck slowed even further.

The truck driver watched in disbelief as the truck slowed to a stop, like some giant invisible hand had reached down to slow the vehicle. He ran over to the truck, expecting to see a super of some kind, and he wasn't disappointed.

The Commander himself had stopped the truck and car - denting both into a V - and Jetstream was waving to the crowd that had gathered. The Commander wrenched the door off the car, waved and smiled at the citizens, and looked into the car to assist the squished citizen.

"Uh, dear? There's a slight problem," the Commander called, hoping his voice didn't travel the way he thought it had.

"What's that, dear?" Jetstream asked, waving once more and landing, walking over to her husband just like a normal citizen would do.

It was lucky they had been grocery shopping this morning and Steve had seen the truck barrelling down the hill.

"He's dead."

In the Hive, Ethan watched Adam's live traffic feed to ensure Mr. Brighton was truly dead. When he saw the ambulance arrive and take Mr. Brighton out, covering him with a white sheet, he finally relaxed.

"He's really dead?" Adam asked, zooming in on the ambulance.

"Yes. I'll let Layla know. Can you track the ambulance and make sure he's DOA?"

"Sure. I'll keep an eye on the coroner's report, too. The Commander and Jetstream were involved so they should do him before regular citizens."

"Thanks, Adam," Ethan said with a smile, concentrating as he texted Layla and Warren.

...

End of the hundred and sixty-first chapter.

Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!