Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Five
...
Will flew home, knowing his parents would be there since they were still hiding - uh, that is, waiting - for the media backlash to blowover. Unlike the last time he'd flown through the air on his way to fight Earthstone, the cool atmosphere did nothing to cool his temper. In fact, Will felt as though he was getting angrier with every passing moment. How dare his mother set up one of his fights?! His first real villain fight, at that!
Landing in the front yard, Will stepped out of the small crater he'd made, not even caring about the state of the lawn or the reporters who were across the street. He walked inside, his strength crushing the door handle beneath his grip (the hinges were super strength now and not even the Commander could break the door off anymore), his only focus on finding his mother and getting answers. She'd betrayed him and didn't trust him to get his own fights and -
"Ah, there you are, Will. Did you leave your phone at home again? I was going to ask you to bring pizza home for dinner," Steve said.
"Where's mum?" Will demanded.
Josie had been so eager to leave for her test at the Super Bureau that she'd left without waiting for Steve or her lunch.
"She's been called in for some tests," Steve said, then frowned when he saw Will's expression. "Is everything all right? Did you break the Xbox again?"
"No. When will Mum be back?"
Steve sighed and took his glasses off. "You can talk to me, too, Will. Your mother is definitely smarter than me, I admit it, but I know things. Now, what's wrong?"
Will clenched his fists and heard his own bones creaking in protest at the action. Remembering the reporters across the street - some of them armed with long-distance recorders - he nodded towards the dining room, heading down to the Secret Sanctum with his father following.
Steve gave the pinball machine a surreptitious glance to ensure that Will hadn't broken it, then the pool table and cues, then the Xbox and TV, just in case. It all seemed fine. His sigh of relief was lost under Will's burst of words.
"Mum set up the fight between me and Death Row!"
Steve blinked, frowned, then let out another sigh of relief. "Oh, is that all?"
Will frowned back at his father. "What? That's all you can say? My first real fight wasn't real - "
"You fought Death Row, didn't you?"
"Uh, well... Yeah," Will said.
"Then it was a real fight, no matter if Death Row and Getim were paid. My father did the same thing when I was first starting out," Steve added. "You can't imagine how difficult it was growing up in his shadow - "
Will certainly could, but didn't get a chance to respond, and wouldn't have even if he could.
" - and back then we didn't have this nifty booking system like you've got now, so Captain Stronghold went to a local villain's bar and paid someone to fight me. I stopped a bank robbery and punched the villain out cold," Steve said proudly, clenching his fists and giving a pretend jab at Will. "You never forget your first fight, do you, son?"
Relieved that it was obviously a common occurrence, if Captain Stronghold had done the same thing for the Commander, Will nodded in agreement. He wasn't weak, it's just what super parents did for their super-powered kids!
"After that fight, Royal Pain declared me her nemesis, and... well, you know the rest."
"So who was the villain you fought?"
Steve frowned. "You know, I don't remember their name. But the important thing is that I won. I even got a sack of money for my trouble; that's how I could afford to hire Jonathan as my sidekick."
"The bank gave you a sack of money?" Will asked incredulously.
"Well... They never asked for it back. It was my first trophy, you could say. I've probably even got the sack around here somewhere," Steve said, looking around the Secret Sanctum.
"Huh. I wonder if I'll get a sack of money for my next fight."
"Probably not, son. Everything's done on computers these days," Steve said with a sigh of disappointment. "Now, how about you play a game of pool with your old man? Loser has to pay for pizza."
"You're on!"
...
Grant left the Mad Scientist's lab, glancing at his phone with a soft smile as he headed towards the university and his dorm. Earlier, Beau had messaged him a delicious photo of Jewel in her mini skirt, the material bunched high on her exposed jewelled thigh, and every fibre of his being would have preferred being with his girlfriend and boyfriends rather than with the Mad Scientist for the last two hours. Not only was he horny as fuck, but it was getting difficult to conduct experiments on his power.
Layla and Warren's brand and his continuous training had increased his power to a level that the Mad Scientist would never be able to comprehend, let alone analyse accurately. Grant had been keeping his power at a slightly higher level than his pre-brand level during the Mad Scientist's recent tests, trying to slowly increase his power to supposedly correlate with the extra work and practice he was doing at the University of Maxville. Today was the first day Grant worried about his results being too high - he'd never seen the Mad Scientist look so happy before - and decided to reduce his power level next month.
Today's results could be an anomaly in the overall results, Grant decided, and it shouldn't impact the Mad Scientist's final analysis, nor be brought to the Super Bureau's attention.
The fact that the Mad Scientist had been given a grant from the Super Bureau was worrying enough on its own, but Grant knew that they were the only ones providing significantly larger funding in the field of super-related research. The grants and funding from the government or the Council for Super Research were tiny in comparison, though they didn't include the extra caveats that came with every grant issued by the Super Bureau: namely that they would be provided with a regular update of the researcher's results, even before the final analysis. Grant had been wary of the Super Bureau for far too long to let something as ridiculous as extra credit for university be his downfall.
In fact, it was probably a good idea to skip next month's experiment entirely.
His phone vibrated with new messages, and Grant looked from the dark street to his screen. A light flickered overhead, plunging the street into darkness for what felt like a longer time each flicker, but he was around the corner from the University of Maxville, and it was only a short five-minute walk across campus to his dorm.
Jewel: back at my dorm now; my roommate slipped a pamphlet under my bedroom door about renouncing Super God. I don't even believe in Super God?! WTF do I do with that?!
Craig: jewel up the pamphlet?
Beau: at my dorm, too *heart*
Beau: agree with Craig - use it as a drink coaster
Grant snickered at the responses, and briefly wondered if he could do anything about getting Jewel's roommate to leave his girlfriend the fuck alone. He figured Jewel would ask or do something herself if it came to that, but it couldn't hurt to be prepared. Whether or not that preparation required an alibi remained to be seen.
His thoughts were interrupted as a black van pulled up beside him abruptly. Grant startled in surprise, but before he could react or do anything, the side door opened and a thick cloud of smoke blew directly into his face. Thanks to his work with the Mad Scientist, as well as Super Chemistry 101, Grant knew the scent of super chloroform all too well. It worked far faster than the citizen equivalent, and a cloud this thick was designed to knock the target unconscious within a second rather than five minutes.
He didn't even get to say goodnight, was Grant's last conscious thought, the world going dark around him.
...
Jetstream finished flying around the room in far too many and too tiny loops, landing when the buzzer sounded and not without a moment of gratitude. "Did I pass?"
Silence hung in the air for a moment too long.
"You were fine, Jetstream."
"Fine? Fine?! I just flew around this tiny room in twice the Earth's gravity! I flew it faster than I ever have before!" Jetstream snapped, indicating the red flashing numbers above the door. "And you're calling it fine?!"
"My apologies. It was very good, Jetstream. You passed."
Jetstream narrowed her eyes at the emotion in the person's voice. "You're not Mr. A, or even an agent yet, are you? They gave me a subordinate?! What's your number? No, I don't care! Go get me an agent this instant!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"And don't call me ma'am!"
"Sorry, ma'am!"
Jetstream glared at the one-way mirror until she was certain the subordinate was gone. When they were, she lifted up into the air and flew around in lazy circles, getting her muscles used to the tension and strain. Flying was her superpower, of course, but the world's greatest superheroes needed to work their powers and ensure they would stay at the top, even after a small setback like broken bones and a failed power.
No matter what the newspapers said, she was still beloved by the world and it would stay that way until Jetstream said otherwise!
There was a sound of a door opening, the breathless subordinate's voice straining through the speakers. "I've... I've got an agent... for you... Jetstream."
Stopping her flight, Jetstream posed in front of the mirror, her hands on her hips and smiled. "Thank you. Now, which agent am I talking to? You had better be higher than the letter F," she warned in a semi-joking tone, completely serious.
"Agent B. 21 found me in the line for coffee," Bill said with a slurp and grin. "Nice to see ya again, Jetstream. How's those bones of yours? Are any of 'em still broken?" he asked cheerfully.
Jetstream still didn't know how she felt about Bill. He was by far the most pleasant agent in the place, but she didn't trust that big smile of his at all. Still, she continued to smile because that was what was required of her, and kept her tone even as she replied. "No, all healed now. It was mostly hairline fractures, and my power as a superhero is healing the rest of the injuries. I don't even have any bruises left."
"Glad to hear it. Now, let's see what this printout says, hey? Hairline fractures are still fractures and if your bones are weakened, we want to know about it. The electrodes are still attached, ain't they?" Bill asked, glancing from the printed report to Jetstream, who was covered in circular sticky electrodes that were measuring her power's output. "Ah, I see what 21 was referring to. Good catch, lass."
Jetstream frowned. "What did she catch?"
"Comparing your printout with your last run, it looks like this flight is putting more pressure on your body than before. You beat your double gravity record, but not without sustaining more damage for it. Can you go to the weights?"
Jetstream flew straight over to the weights, determined to prove herself. "I feel fine, better than ever," she added quickly, not liking the word 'fine' right then.
"Of course you do, you still have a number of drugs in your system. The doctors gave you a high strength painkiller this time, didn't they?"
Jetstream swallowed hard. She didn't think they'd get the blood test results back so quickly. "It's a precaution; I'm meant to take one every morning to help lessen the pain."
"Mmhmm. And how many did you take this morning?" Bill asked.
"One! I wouldn't dare take more. The doctors specifically stated that taking too many would be the equivalent of drinking a whole bottle of wine," Jetstream said, shuddering at the idea of losing her power again.
Losing her power and falling through the sky without a way to stop herself might or might not be a recurring nightmare, not that she'd ever admit it, even to herself.
"Good. You don't want to hurt yourself again."
"On that note, what's being done about the cause?"
"It was investigated, as you requested, and is being dealt with. Now, weighted ankles and wrists, and we'll see how you go at a regular gravity this time, hey?"
Bill was an experienced agent - he had to be to get the letter B designation - but Jetstream had to argue on this point. "No! Keep it at the double gravity setting. I can do it."
"Hairline fractures are still broken bones, Jetstream. One wrong move and you could break another bone fully. It'll mean more than those painkillers and far more often than once a day," Bill warned.
Jetstream's body ached at the thought, and she trembled as she slipped the weighted wrist and ankle bands on. "Fine, normal gravity first, and we'll increase it."
"If the readout shows you're not going to hurt yourself with another gravity increase, then I'll increase it," Bill said, the speaker turning off without letting her argue again.
Jetstream sighed as gravity adjusted itself around her. The timer flashed and as it hit zero, she flew up into the air for her next test, determined to pass, no matter what.
...
The thirteenth scientist had been working at the Super Bureau's Montana site for nearly two years now. It still wasn't enough to desensitise themselves from the so-called work they did: basically a thinly-veiled version of torture they performed on unwilling supers. The only way they got through their day was because Hourglass had promised they would help in saving them all. The information they passed to Bill and Charlie would help bring this whole operation down around their ears, and they had to believe it was true just to get the willpower to get out of bed in the morning.
Subject 368 glared despite the blindfold wrapped around his eyes. The intensity of his demeanour and ferocity of his glare wasn't lessened by the fact he was holding a kitten in his cupped palms, either.
Scientist Thirteen placed the nodes on Subject 368's chest and arms carefully, trying to keep their face impassive and tone neutral. "Your kitten is cute. Have you named it yet, Deimos?"
Subject 368 stiffened at the name, and Scientist Thirteen saw goosebumps and hair rise on his arms. "How do you know that name?" he hissed.
"Hourglass. May I set your kitten beside you? The electrical currents won't be pleasant for her."
"Electricity does nothing to my power; you should know that by now," Deimos snapped.
"I do, but Eleven and Twelve have been replaced. Both require their own tests to prove previous tests. Twelve is far more cruel than previous or current scientists."
"What the hell are you doing in there? Get it done and get back here, or I'll turn the electricity on either way!" Twelve threatened, far too gleefully for Thirteen's liking.
"Take her. You bring her back to me, understand?" Deimos murmured, tucking the kitten in Thirteen's pocket like even the blindfold couldn't stop his gaze.
"Of course," Thirteen replied, attaching the last node and hurrying from the room into the observation chamber.
Twelve, a misogynist as well as a cruel prick this time around, didn't bother asking Thirteen what they'd been doing again. He purposely misgendered them and implied everything they did was a result of being a lesser gender, and Thirteen was struggling to find reasons not to snap the bastard's neck like a twig.
"You finished yet, Eleven? We want this done today!"
"Done," Eleven squeaked, her cheeks red in a mix of anger and embarrassment at being called out by her colleague.
Eleven was one of the younger scientists but had done promising work at the University of Maxville as a result of using paid test subjects for her thesis. She had taken longer to accept the job than Twelve had, and this was her first day in the experiment rooms. Thirteen doubted she'd last long with Twelve as a counterpart.
Twelve flicked the power switch and then slowly and steadily began to increase the level of electricity flowing into the room. Set up like a reverse Faraday cage, electricity sparked in blue lights around the room and table Deimos was lying on, but stayed contained and didn't reach the monitoring equipment.
Thirteen watched with a sick feeling in their stomach as Deimos twitched and spasmed involuntarily, screams ripped through and out of his throat unwillingly. The kitten struggled in their pocket at the noise, and daring to put their hand in the pocket, Thirteen tried to soothe the kitten. They took a subtle step back just as Eleven stepped forward, her eyes wide on the scene in front of her.
Eleven spun around abruptly. "Where are the rest of our test subjects? Are they all this resistant to electricity or is 368 the only one?" she asked, her eyes were wide and bright, and on the wrong side of crazy.
Thirteen had to reassess their earlier thought. It looked like Eleven was the perfect counterpart for Twelve, after all.
"You have four more assigned subjects. They're in their containment units - " never call them prison cells, even though that's what they were " - which one would you like next?" Thirteen asked.
Eleven mused for a moment, even as Twelve increased the electricity. "What happens if they're all tested at the same time?" she asked, curious and cruel.
Thirteen swallowed hard as Deimos' scream became a wail of agony. "I don't believe it's been done. All previous scientists tested them individually."
Eleven rolled her eyes dismissively. "Those scientists are all dead. I want individual tests done and then we'll start on pairs before moving onto group tests. It's far more fun when they have to use their power on another subject."
"We're getting new subjects brought in tomorrow, aren't we?" Twelve asked, not looking at either of them as he increased the electricity once more.
"Yes, three new subjects are due to arrive at midday. One will be assigned to you once they've been processed."
"Excellent." Eleven smiled like an excited kid on Christmas Eve, and returned her attention to Deimos' torture.
When they'd finally tired of the game - neither one even pretended to look at the monitors or outputs - Eleven and Twelve left for the day, leaving Thirteen to clean up the mess.
Deimos was still conscious - whether out of stubbornness or pride, Thirteen didn't know - and twitching as he waited for the electricity to leave his system. His blindfold had either fallen or ashes and he didn't care either way, looking at Thirteen tiredly. "Is she okay?"
"Yes. She's not happy, but she's here," Thirteen said, removing the nodes before placing the kitten in Deimos' cupped hands.
The kitten licked at him and the tension slowly left his body.
Thirteen helped Deimos into a wheelchair - the scientists had learned the hard way about trying to get subjects to walk after their experiments - and took him back to his prison cell. "Soon, Deimos."
He held onto those words of vague hope long after the door had been shut and bolted into place.
...
Bill watched as the recruits were led into the room, most somewhat disoriented from their broken sleep, only a few wide-eyed and alert considering the time. The numbered recruits had reached the last stage of their testing and now - unbeknownst to them, of course - they were about to graduate and become fully fledged members of the Super Bureau. There was an official ceremony later in the week that all of the recruits assumed was the final stage. It didn't help that they'd been led to believe that since they'd first started, but Bill thought they shouldn't believe anything that the Super Bureau told them as a fact; they should know better by now.
"You're doing it again, Bill," Charlie whispered.
"Hmm?"
"You're making that face that scares the newbies," Charlie clarified.
Bill frowned. "They can't see me through the glass, Charlie. I'll be fine."
"Are we all here, then? We really need to reconsider changing the time for these little get-togethers," Agent C said with a wide yawn. "I can only lie to my wife so many times; I think she's hired a super private investigator again."
"Maybe y'all should stop cheatin' on her, then. Lord knows how long she'll stay married to you and keep your sorry ass in line, C."
C just laughed at Bill's words. "Oh, she'll stay as long as I bring home the bacon."
Charlie muttered under their breath, just low enough that C didn't hear.
Bill nudged them out of the room gently before they could start arguing with agents again and handed Charlie a bouncy ball slyly. "You head on home now, Charlie. There's more work to be done in the morning."
Charlie rolled their shoulders and cracked their neck. "Yes, sir."
"I don't know how you've kept that one around for so long, Bill. Why not replace them with one of the newer recruits? They're far less... argumentative," C sneered.
"No, thank you, C. Charlie's too good at their job an' I'd be hopeless without 'em. Now, let's get this show on the road 'fore C falls asleep where he stands, hey?" Bill said with a laugh, clapping C on the back.
"Welcome, recruits. I apologise for getting you out of bed so late," Mr. A said with a brief smile as he entered the room.
The recruits all straightened and sobered up on realising who was addressing them, each of them standing in the attention position, clenching their hands behind their backs tightly.
"We have your final test to be completed tonight, and it's best done at this time when there's less eyes and ears in the walls," Mr. A said, a few recruits glancing at the walls nervously. "Now, when your number is called, step forward and follow Agent G here through the door. From there, you can go straight back to your dorm and sleep the rest of the night away," he said with another brief smile, several recruits looking eager to complete whatever this test was so they could go back to sleep.
Bill knew they'd regret anticipating the test, but they wouldn't feel that regret for very long. In fact, after this so-called test, they wouldn't feel much at all. He looked at the group of recruits, trying not to let his gaze linger on subordinate 13 or 21 while Agent G was still watching him and glaring through the mirror.
"Number 13, step forward," Agent G called.
Beside Bill, C frowned. "That's odd; I thought we went numerically? Why's G changed it all of a sudden?"
"No idea, C. Maybe he needs recalibrating?" Bill suggested.
"Mr. A has already organised it," C said offhandedly. "Rumour has it G will be retired if this next calibration doesn't stick."
Bill forced himself not to react outwardly, despite the cold feeling of dread building in his chest and running down his spine. "Is that so?"
In the room that 13 had been led into just moments ago, an ear-shattering scream was heard.
C smiled, void of emotion and somehow still unpleasant anyway. "I do love that sound, don't you?"
"No one enjoys that sound as much as you do, C," Bill said with a laugh, the sound forced to his own ears. "If you boys'll excuse me, I've gotta see a super about a lizard."
He left without waiting for a response, slipping into a room further down the hallway that had the door slightly ajar. It wasn't noticeable unless you were looking for it and Bill was definitely looking for it. Charlie was waiting for him in the shadows, 13 dazed and pale beside them.
"We've only got a few minutes a'fore the next recruit's brought out. 13, look at me," Bill commanded, tilting the recruit's head gently.
"Not 13. M," they said weakly.
"All right then, that's good. Look at me, M," Bill said, his voice quiet but firm.
M blinked a few times, struggling to focus on anything. Something was pressed into their hands, rubbery and cool and round and... a bouncy ball? That split moment of confusion was enough emotion that M latched onto it and looked up at Bill properly. "Sir?"
"Ah, there you are. That's a good start, M. How're you feeling?"
"I... I've felt better, sir... I mean, Bill. That machine, what did it... I need to - " was all the warning M could give before puking into the waste paper bin Charlie was holding.
"There you go. Let it all out. Try not to think about the machine, okay? Just think about your feelings, even the ones making you sick, you need to remember them all: the good, the bad, and the ugly. While you do that, I need you to listen to me very carefully, understand?"
M stopped heaving, breathing and trying to think about their emotions instead of the machine, instead of wires and noise and - no, they had to think about their feelings, good and bad, just like Bill said. Oddly enough, thinking about their feelings made both their nauseous stomach and pounding head settle. Forcing themselves to think more, to feel more, they swallowed hard, wincing at the taste of bile in their throat. Another scream filled the air, breaking the silence for five long seconds, and M shuddered in revulsion at the sound and memory it dredged up.
"We're running out of time, especially if we're getting 21, too," Charlie murmured, glancing at the doorway.
"Give it another minute, Charlie. M will come through. We've got enough time for both of 'em."
They both watched as M struggled to get under control, and away from the machine's control. Thirty-five seconds later, M wiped their mouth and straightened up, then nodded, no longer trembling. "All right, I'm listening."
...
Flying over Westville early the next morning, it took Airborne a moment to realise that someone was calling out for help. Excited and determined to provide that help, and finally be paid for defeating a villain - without his mother's help, thank you very much - Airborne flew down towards the distressed citizen.
Landing on a rooftop, Airborne was surprised that he recognised the citizen. "What do you want?" he snapped at Guy, hands on his hips.
"Good morning, Airborne," Guy said with a small cough, his throat aching from calling out for help. "I wanted to apologise to you. I thought you knew about Gerry and Rowan, I didn't... I made an unfair assumption about you, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, Airborne."
Airborne's hands fell from his hips and he frowned, looking Guy over. Guy looked like he hadn't slept, his hair still sticking up and making him look cute, despite the bags under his eyes. Airborne didn't know if he could ask for anything to prove how sorry he was, but he figured he'd have to forgive Guy first. "All right. I guess I could forgive you, then."
"Thank you. It's been bothering me all night. To make up for my assumption, here, this is for you," Guy said, holding out a slip of paper.
"What is it?" Airborne asked, reaching to take it even as he thought of the possible and obvious answer: Guy was giving him his number!
His heart raced in excitement and anticipation, even as some part of him warred with the idea of it, and how he'd have to tell Guy he wasn't -
"It's the number for someone who can help with your villain problem. I'm not giving you an alter ego since I like my job and limbs where they are, but if you call that number, they'll help. She owes me a favour and this will make us even."
Airborne tried not to let his disappointment show. Then Guy's words sunk in, and he blinked in surprise, looking from the slip of paper to Guy. "You called in a favour for me?"
"More like to assuage my own guilt, but yes. I hope it helps, Airborne."
"I'm sure it will," he said, distractedly patting pockets to find where he'd put his phone.
"Oh, one last thing: leave the moustache next time you drop by the bar, okay? You're way too cute to ruin it with a fake 'stache," Guy said with a grin and wink. He left Will stunned behind him as he headed back down into the building without waiting for a response.
Forcing himself to act before he lost the slip of paper in the wind, Airborne called the phone number immediately.
"Hello, Airborne. I've been waiting for your call," Honey said with a smile.
...
Layla found herself looking out to the distance far more than usual. She wasn't immune to daydreaming, of course, but she didn't usually spend all of Mad Science or English for Heroes staring out the classroom window. By the time lunch came around, she wouldn't have been able to repeat anything she'd learnt or been told that morning, and the realisation settled uncomfortably on her skin. When she could bring herself out of her daze, at least.
"Dude, you awake?" Donny asked, waving a hand in front of Warren's face. "You've been spaced out all morning."
"Lay's been that way, too," Craig said, frowning.
"Everyone's here, right?" Zach asked, looking around the table at their large group of friends and checking off his mental checklist.
Craig did the same, counting small frogs resting on Pat's shoulders and top of his head, then grinned at Milo. "Hey, Milo. When'd you get here?"
"Arrived with Zach and Ethan. Is it okay if I sit here?"
"Sure, no problem. Just gotta up the body count," Craig said absentmindedly.
"The what?" Milo asked, choking on his water.
Craig was busy counting again and didn't answer.
"I believe he's referring to the number of people he's counting, not anything nefarious," Ethan said, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"Uh, I'm here, too. That's okay, right?" Remi asked, his voice soft where he was squished between Robin and Justina.
Honestly, he hadn't really been given a choice as they'd both led him to the cafeteria with Terrence a step behind to make sure he didn't run off, but Remi didn't truly mind.
"Of course," Ethan said with a quick smile, starting to get worried now as both Layla and Warren seemed to be looking out of the cafeteria windows to the exact same spot and completely unaware of the conversation around them. "Don't forget to include Corvin; he's in the cafeteria line."
"Twenty?" Craig asked Zach, who confirmed with a nod.
"Yep; frogs with Pat, freshman, us, you, them, and Layla and Warren."
"I'm going to check the group chat; there might be something happening at the university. You heard anything from Richard or Anita?" Craig asked, already on his phone.
"They have nothing scheduled in their department," Ethan said, navigating to the university site to find if there was an event elsewhere on campus.
"Heidi's all right, isn't she?" Wendy asked, trying to determine which direction Layla and Warren were looking.
"She's fine; her school's got a sports carnival today. She spent most of the morning trying to convince Anita and Richard to go to work instead of taking time off, but they're both doing half days so they can be there for the whole thing," Zach said, unable to keep the happiness out of his voice even if he wanted to.
Their parents had only ever complained about days like this - the cost, the time off work, the long hours spent in the heat, the participation ribbons and never trophies - but Anita and Richard had simply ensured they had a bag of cool drinks, enough sunscreen to protect the school, and had worked out who would do the first and second half with more eagerness than Heidi had for the day itself. Richard had ended up with the first half of the day and Anita with the second half, though they'd firmly agreed to have lunch together with Heidi and share photos and videos. Richard had driven Heidi to school, excitedly discussing a ribbon board and trophy case to take pride of place by his model trains.
"How's she going so far?" Justina asked.
"A few third places, she has her nose covered in blue zinc, and she's doing the baton racing after lunch."
"Jewel's roommate took offence to the jewelled renounce Super Jesus poster, so she's been dealing with that all morning. Beau's been polishing up his Comms essay and stretching his legs after our jogging yesterday," Craig said. He chewed his bottom lip nervously. "I haven't got a response from Grant. Not even on read."
"He doesn't have a class until this afternoon; could he be sleeping in?" Ethan asked.
Craig shook his head. "Nah, he hates sleeping in, says it ruins his sleeping schedule. I'll ask Beau to check his dorm, maybe his phone's off?"
"No, his phone's on, dude," Terrence said, flicking through his own phone and list of contacts. "I mean, the battery is hella low so he needs to charge it in, like, half an hour or it'll die. But it's definitely on."
"He's on a street around the corner from the university, but... " Adam frowned, tilted his head, then tapped a few things again, his frown deepening when he saw the results. "It's saying he's been there all night. The street cams don't show anything, though. He's not, like, lying in a ditch or something."
"Which street? I'll go check myself," Craig said, already standing.
Their phones started going off with several messages as Jewel and Beau realised their boyfriend was missing.
Donny grabbed Craig's hand and lowered him to the seat gently, his eyes unfocused as he caught snippets of Layla and Warren's thoughts. "Grant's being taken in a north-east direction. The brand's working, but Grant's wearing a power repressing cuff. He's still on the move."
"They can get through cuffs; that's the whole point of the brand," Craig hissed, his voice low.
"There's something else stopping them. I can't work out what it is. What's Honey say about it?"
Ethan frowned. "She didn't know it was going to happen. She hasn't seen any of this."
Warren could feel his fire brand on Grant's shoulder. It was dimmed thanks to the power repressing cuff, but it was still there. Grant was moving faster than walking speed - a car, truck, or van, perhaps, but certainly not fast enough to be a plane - which added a bit of difficulty, but it shouldn't be restricted in the way it currently was. Warren concentrated more, his entire focus on the fire burning in Grant's shoulder, until everything around him faded away and all that remained was that one spark of power. A small flicker of heat let Grant know he was aware of his presence and then the flicker died forcefully. It wasn't anything external - the vehicle, whatever it was, wasn't made out of power repressing beams - but Warren recognised it anyway.
Grant was powered up despite the cuff on his own wrist, forcing Warren and Layla's brand to be kept under wraps. Whatever he'd gone through overnight had somehow resulted in Grant deciding that it was better they didn't find him or, at least, not straight away.
"We're going straight to the Hive this afternoon. Skip Save the Citizen, if you can," Layla said, squeezing Warren's hand just as tight as he was squeezing hers.
"How am I meant to do anything when Grant's out there being kidnapped?!" Craig snapped, tears in his eyes.
"He's alive and conscious enough to power up. We can't go after him without a plan," Warren pointed out.
"I'll let everyone else know to meet us there early. Honey's freaking out in the middle of a Board meeting, and Jewel's threatening decapitation," Ethan read, wincing.
"Cee, stop time. Give yourself half an hour, okay? You need to concentrate and keep going like nothing's changed."
"I stopped time five minutes ago! Fuck this, where is he?" Craig snapped.
Their phones all turned off, and Craig turned on Terrence with a glare. Terrence held his hands up in a gesture of peace. "If Grant's powered up to stop Layla and Warren from finding him, don't you think he's got a reason for it? He probably wants to be taken to wherever he's going, right?"
Craig knew he couldn't argue with Terrence's logic, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Tears in his eyes, Craig turned and left the cafeteria, Adam and Ryuu hurrying after him.
...
End of the hundred and eighty-fifth chapter.
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