Month: February 2020

Chapter 5

 

Ethan stared out the window of his hotel room, sipping his coffee and considering his future.

It was a rainy day in Chicago but the temperature was pleasant enough, and his room contained very comfortable furniture. He had tasks that needed doing, but he wasn’t really in the mood. Besides, it was the kind of soft rain that made you want to just sit and enjoy the moment.

He glanced down at the table nearest to him, full of scattered notes and files. Research. On the HCP, on Chicago, on Sizemore University. Blueprints of the entire campus lay there. Every restroom noted and every office labeled. Mom had taught him well the advantage of being prepared.

His purpose in becoming a hero wasn’t for revenge. He’d already accomplished that. Nor was it from some sense of self-doubt in his abilities. Stolen or otherwise. No, Ethan Burkhardt had a much more unusual reason for dedicating his life to such a goal.

An Oath and a Dream. His oath was his own, taken the moment he realized mother’s death was his fault. The dream could have been from anyone. It could have been his own subconscious causing trouble. He doubted that theory. It had been too clear, too easily remembered for it to be purely imagination.

His mom had always warned him about faulty memories, and though it was said with a laugh, he had taken it to heart. The next four years would likely be only the start of a career rife with hardships and pitfalls. He needed to remember it all. There was also the matter considering the drop out policy all applicants were forced to sign. It spelled out a version of identity protection that involved fogging a person’s memory.

While Ethan would do everything in his power never to get to that point, it was always better to be cautious. He had too much riding on this. He wanted it too much. He knew that. But it was worth it.

He would start with a small notebook, written in a code made of pure nonsense. Perhaps the pattern could be recognized, but translating it without the key would be nearly impossible. Nearly, because for whatever precautions one might take, there was undoubtedly a hero somewhere that could undo them with a snap of their fingers.

Notes, thoughts, reviews of training and combat, summaries of classes, and journals of daily activities. All offline.

He sat down his mug on the table and sorted aside his current semester schedule. There was English Lit, a history class, and Intro to Physics. A basic social elective filled out the calendar.

Only a few days left before classes began. He would be living in the dorm rooms and had already packed most of his items (such as there were) in preparation for the move. He’d have to put more work into meeting people once he was finished.

The problem was, he’d just been so busy trying to find a decent part-time job, but most were already locked down. This was Chicago, you’d think it wouldn’t be too difficult for someone to find a place to work. His mistake was in forgetting that this was also the end of summer, and college students were flooding back into the area like locusts. The good jobs were all snatched up quickly, and what’s left were the dregs of… huh. Dregs. An idea began to form. There had been a number of cafes or coffee stands near the Market. Perhaps one of them would be hiring? The turnover rate was fairly sharp when working in retail or food industries. He might just get lucky.

Plus, his high school summers working in The Lodge might finally come in hand, and the thought of being a barista for a few semesters wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

That goal in mind, Ethan moved back from the table, stretching widely before beginning the process of destroying the paperwork in front of him. It had served his purpose, and while not strictly illegal in any way, no evidence was always better than offering a confusing explanation.

His mind wandered to his future classmates. What would they be like? He fully expected the peace and quiet he was so used to while living alone to be shattered on campus. Hopefully, they would be interesting enough to make up for its loss… though actually, he’d rather desire that they be useful.

Ethan’s goals for the future relied on him becoming friends (or at the very least building connections) with a large number of Supers. Teleportation was at the very top of the list, but any kind of advanced mind would also be necessary.

The only question was, who would he meet first?

 

*******************

 

With a gentle stride, Jackson moved off the train and dropped to the floor of Union Station. He smiled a little then, looking about with eyes that saw more than they seemed. He shifted his duffel to the other shoulder, then began moving softly forward, the crowd of people in his path quickly giving him a wide berth. His obvious background showed clearly here in the city, his size only seeming to declare it all to the world. He disregarded the fearful looks that stared in his direction and made his way through the station to the taxi parking.

He quietly handed his duffel to the driver, who seemed fairly nonplussed about his size, and squeezed into the backseat. After giving the address of Sizemore Tech to the driver; he sat back and watched as the city flew past his window.

Well… it certainly wasn’t the forest. But to his surprise, Chicago did have its own unique beauty. It streamed from the high glass windows of the skyscrapers, flowing down across the brick and mortar of a weathered cathedral. There was a busy feeling to the city, a breath of purposefulness and determination, of excitement and possibilities.

“Heading to Sizemore, huh?” the driver glanced in his rearview mirror.

“Yes,” Jackson responded softly.

“Going to be Hero someday?” he grinned.

“Who can say?” Jackson turned back to the window. “The future is unknown. Full of potential, but undetermined nonetheless.”

The driver nodded with appreciation.“Huh. I guess that makes sense. Well, good luck anyway.”

“Thank you. Luck is always a good thing to have.” Jackson smiled back.

The rest of the drive through the city continued peacefully and without interruption, the taxi finally dropping him off at the front of the Sizemore Tech Campus. After a friendly goodbye to his driver, then shouldering his duffel once more, he made his way to the administration building.

Emerging about an hour later, he slowly began the walk to the designated dorms. Apparently, he would be living in Randolph Hall this year. He wondered what exactly that would entail. After all, a great many of the buildings in this area of the city were very old. Many voices resided here, though they might be worn with age and disheartened by remaining unnoticed for so long. He’d noticed much impatience while in the city, a far cry from the laid back feeling so prevalent in the forest.

Well, this time someone was able to listen. He couldn’t wait to get to work.

 

*******************

 

Travis stopped walking once he reached the curb and stared at the dorms, a look of excitement spreading across his face. Behind him, Casey continued dragging his suitcases over to the curb, waiting for the rest of the family to catch up.

The blond-haired young man was slightly winded, but couldn’t use his ability for fear of being noticed. It was definitely an odd feeling, that of trying not to stand out. The boys had always been… well, noticeable, and had thrived in such an environment. This was a much different atmosphere.

“Hey, Travis buddy, if it isn’t too much work, thank you could manage to liberate a few boxes from the top of the stack? I’d rather get moved in sooner rather than later ya know?”

“Sure, sure. Be there in a sec.” Travis continued to gaze with thoughtful delight at the surrounding campus. From their current viewpoint at the northwestern top of the quad, they could see over quite a large area.

To the south and east, the campus spread out in a fascinating blend of the old and new architecture styles Chicago was somewhat famous for. Ancient red-brick buildings surrounded the central part of the school, usually two to three stories in height. Only slightly further beyond that, one could see the gothic church steeple rising in the background. Since the establishment of HCP in the 50s, the small community college had undergone something of a renaissance, shifting into the massive sprawling institute it was now.

Lake Michigan provided the perfect backdrop from this viewpoint, its shining waters reflecting the sunlight into a myriad of colors. A soft breeze from the north shifted Travis’s dark curls, and he closed his eyes to just feel the moment.

It felt so right.

Casey’s hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him from his reverie and into a tight side-hug.

“Hey. She would have been proud ya know. Seeing you here.” His best friend had a solemn look on his face and was joining him in staring at the distant horizon.

With a small nod, Travis broke the hug and stepped back with a grin. “Here, let me help you carry that. Before you break something. Again.”

“Hey! It was one time ok! I just misjudged how much I could carry. Cause, ya know, I’ve been doing all this work while you’ve been daydreaming. So now we have to be without your fancy speakers. Boohoo.”

Readjusting his load, Casey waited for a few other students to move past them on the sidewalk before continuing his journey to the second floor of Stangel Hall. The atmosphere around them was full of energy as over 20,000 new or returning students made their way on the campus in preparation for a new semester.

He shoved his way past the boxes lining the hallway, then virtually threw his suitcases into their shared dorm room. “Hey man, you never did tell me how we got a room together. I thought that was a random thing for incoming freshmen?”

With deft hands, Travis continued sorting his clothing into the small closet provided. “Well, you see, first I had to bribe the dean of admissions, which was no small task by the way, then I had to convince the dean of students, which was slightly easier, but then I had to talk to the dean of the HCP, and that my friend, was the real challenge.”

He turned to find Casey staring at him with a dead expression plastered across his face and two upturned fingers presented expressively. Laughing, Travis threw a package of underwear at his friend’s face. “Nah man. There was a note in the application if you already wanted to room with another incoming student. Since we’re both freshmen in the HCP, it was approved.”

“Cool.” Casey belted the underwear back towards the other side of the room. “Want to grab a bite to eat after this? I could go for some pizza.”

“Sure. Uh, but seriously though, pizza? You know orientation is tomorrow, right? All that grease, rolling around in your gut. Just a disaster waiting to blow.”

“Nah, I ain’t worried. After all, it’s the first day. What’s the worst that can happen?”

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CHAPTER 4

 

A landline phone rang shrilly on top of an empty desk, in the middle of a doorless, windowless room. A single-occupant sitting in the only chair provided stared harshly down at the noisy device, frustration evident in the intervening silence.

Finally, on the fifth ring, a hand reached out to snatch the phone off its cradle.

“Thirty seconds.”

The first voice was quiet, the meaning clear. The response was quick and cold.

“Then I won’t waste our time. The Game the Three of us have been playing at has just been escalated. Something has changed, and no one can foresee how. A new timetable is in the works, and unique pawns are approaching the horizon. The goal is this: take control of the incoming HCP class at Sizemore Tech. Utilize whatever methods as best you can, and gain their trust and loyalty by any means. Whoever controls them most by their graduation will likely win the final conflict.”

“Rules of Engagement?”

“No deaths unless agreed upon. No face to face contact. No blackmail of the HCP instructors. Addendums may arise.”

“When do we begin?”

“We just did.”

The phone went dead. A moment later, it was carefully and gingerly placed back in its appropriate position. The lone individual stood, then lifted the chair and tucked it underneath the desk.

First, a straightening of their sleeves. Then, a crack of the neck. Lastly, the whisper of a device being removed from the foremost pocket of their suit jacket. A sigh, then the device was engaged, causing a flash of light and a crack of ozone being left to echo in the now empty room.

 

*******************

 

Holding the last remnant of his bloody uniform, the tired-looking man gazed across the flowing fields of grass.

This was the day. It would begin in the next few hours, as the Windy City lived up to its name, and the young students began to explore their new home.

They had no idea what awaited them. And somehow… someway… he would have to save them. He had no other choice.

His attention was caught by the blowing rags, and the faded writing across its surface. Only the letters W A R… were still visible, followed by the number 1.  The patch above the letters had already been torn off, but he knew what belonged there. Acies. A good name. His name once. Well, one of them.

The last memories of a forgotten life. He let the rag blow away in the wind, following its wandering journey with weary eyes. When it finally dipped below another hill, he turned back towards the highway, gazing at the traffic winding into the sprawling city far distant.

The world didn’t need to know. Not yet. Hopefully never, but he was far too jaded to believe such a thing. This was the beginning of the end. Every action mattered.

Zipping up his new coat tighter, the man once known by many names, now only known by one, gave the barest of smiles. Acies was back.

After all, there were Heros to save.

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Chapter 3

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Jackson sat quietly alone on the high mountainous ridge and absorbed the feel of the day into his skin. The whisper of the wind that flowed through his dark hair was a comforting friend, the cool summer breeze carrying the sound of forest glen and bubbling stream into his conscience. Time slowed in this world, space fluctuating in soft tones of gravity and light… he breathed deeply, dwelling in the moment, completely immersed in the peaceful absence. It was like the strongest drug, the clearest emotion, the purest definition of true energy. An energy suddenly tinged with worry.

His eyes slowly reopened; and expelling a soft sigh, he rose and began the long hike back to the ranch. Stocky, well-muscled, and with hair black as night; the man with an unmistakable Native American heritage picked up speed while traversing the narrow game trail. This would be his last sojourn to the mountains before departing, and it was already over too soon. Perhaps he could befriend a teleporter, there undoubtedly would have to be one in the program, even if they weren’t in the same year. 

With these thoughts in his mind, he arrived back home in short order. Striding into the ranch yard and up the front steps of the mill house, he took a minute to greet Old Brett. The worn cattle dog was getting quite on in years, but his tail still wagged as hard as any young puppy when he saw Jackson walk up to the front door. As he was busy kneeling and scratching the dog’s ears, Uncle William stepped onto the veranda.

Tall and broad-shouldered, Uncle Will showed every day of his 40 plus years. His blond hair and light blue eyes were evidence enough of his thick Scandinavian blood, but his weathered face and hands depicted a work ethic few could compare to. He smiled at Jackson though, and with a shake of the head, motioned him to sit on one of the wrap-around benches surrounding the house. 

“You have thoughts, what are they?” he calmly said, as a small pocket knife and short whittling stick appeared out of nowhere into his awaiting hands.

“I am worried. My future has seemed sure… but now on the mountain, I felt a disturbing emotion. Something is moving unseen, and those with eyes ahead do not like it.” 

“Does this prevent your goals? Will you be unable to accomplish what you wish to?”

Jackson thought about it for a minute. “Unclear.”

Uncle Will nodded. “Then nothing has changed. You will go to school, you will become a hero.”

Rising to his feet, Jackson looked over at the man who had taught and cared for him since he was a child. Without this man’s guidance, he would surely have long ago fallen into insanity. 

“Thank you, Uncle. I trust you will notify me if an emergency arises?” 

“Ja. You will find transportation?”

“Of course. It might take a few weeks though.”

“Only natural. Be smart, remember your surroundings. You are unused to the city. This will be dangerous.”

“Dangerous yes, but necessary. I must learn my weaknesses, and this is the best way.”

“Agreed.” Uncle Will sighed, rising from his chair as well, knife and wood disappearing into the air. Walking over to Jackson, he placed an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “Now, you have waited long enough. Go tell your mother goodbye.”

“Is she still upset?”

“Ja, but I doubt she will stay that way for much longer. She loves you too much to let you leave while angry. Go, talk to her. Show her the man you wish to become.”

Smiling softly now, Jackson gave a quick nod; and turned to enter the house. 

“Oh, and Jac? You must find someone to confide in at this school. Another student would be a good choice, just make sure you are familiar with their desires before telling them of your own. Trust your power, and it will not lead you astray. 

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

 

*******************

 

The deserted country road stretched for miles in either direction, connecting the horizons by its cracked blacktop. The lone individual walking quietly down the single lane was wearing what had clearly been a uniform at one time; though it was now little more than torn and bloody rags. 

Closing his eyes, he breathed in a slow, deep breath. Ah, but the delicious quiet! He had missed the silence of this area of the world; the peacefulness of being surrounded only by rows upon rows of corn and wheat. How long had it been? Years at least. It felt like centuries.

The miles had slowly passed behind the plodding individual, his mind wandering, until he slowly glanced up to see a small skirting of trees beside a small creek. “Perfect,” he decided. Carefully, he crawled through the barb-wire fence and walked through the knee-high crabgrass to the trees. After deciding to pause for at least a short rest in the grove of sycamore, he slowly and carefully began laying out what was left of his kit in front of him. A sword (about a meter and a half long) was laid gently down, it’s blade made of a bright silverish alloy. A dagger followed; the once decorated sheath that had held it was now in poor condition. A brace of throwing spikes, a now thoroughly mangled set of revolvers, and a variety of damaged gadgets all joined the small pile of equipment. 

Sighing, the weary man lay back and rested for a few minutes. Just a few minutes, nothing more. Just enough time to… 

Waking with a start, he immediately gathered energy and let it roll across his skin. Flying upwards into a kneeling position, he took a fighting stance and prepared to destroy… the stray cat calmly licking its paw. 

Slowly exhaling his pent-up tensions, the man scowled and sank back to the ground. He needed a place to rest. A safe place. Unfortunately, this was a world filled with impossible acts and incredible gifts; all directed by people with personal agendas. Nowhere was safe. In fact, the only reason he hadn’t already been found and pulled in was likely because he had been running a constant telepathic interference blanket since arriving. He could keep the interference up indefinitely, even when asleep, but almost all of his other skills required concentration and focus. Thus the need for sleep. He had lost so much in the transfer. So many skills, so many hazy memories.

Was there anyone in this world he could trust? Quickly running off a list of individuals in his mind who might consider helping him; he, unfortunately, had to discount many due to his current situation. “Hmm, wouldn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend, didn’t like them in the first place. Maybe, maybe, maybe… ahh.” 

Smiling now, he gathered his weapons and equipment up. He had a destination, and he had a goal. He only hoped it was the right one.

 

*******************

 

The door to the sleek (and obviously modified) Lamborghini opened with a barely heard hiss. Its two-toned red on black highlights stood out brilliantly in the midday sun, and it’s silver-edged rims slowed their rhythm to a stand-still. The man who could be seen emerging from the vehicle’s interior matched its theme perfectly. 

To most outside observers, they could have easily assumed that such a well-dressed individual would appear perfectly at home on the courthouse steps, or in the high rises of Wall Street and vast corporate kingdoms. Yet, he was here, on a simple university campus, walking briskly across the Commons adjunct to the Administration office. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy the admiring glances his ride got. 

The man continued walking in and around a variety of office buildings and boardrooms, before finally stopping in front of an innocuous-looking file closet situated down an empty hallway. Pressing his hand to the side of a cabinet, he watched disinterestedly as a small light flickered on the top of the doorframe. When the light turned a pale blue, he simply walked through the still visibly closed doors. 

“Hello, Adrian.” A petite looking Asian woman smiled warmly at his entrance onto the elevator. 

“Yoko! When did you get back? I thought you were going to be gone until at least just before the semester began?” 

“That was the plan originally, yes. I changed my mind after hearing a few underground whispers about HCP schools being under watch.” 

Adrian Steels peered down at the much smaller professor beside him. “We already knew about Overton though.” 

“Overton, yes. They’re not the only one though, just the most obvious.” she shrugged off his further questioning glance with a wave of the hand. “I’d rather not go over everything twice; you’ll just have to wait till we’re in the meeting.”

“Fine. But I expect all the juicy details of your vacation later. And don’t think that getting back early gets you a pass on our sparring session on Tuesday. I need the practice more than you do anyway.”

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it. After all, it’s not every day we professors are allowed to destroy the reputations of our fellow peers.” She smiled to lessen the blow.

“Ha! That’s funny. You can try, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I might be inexperienced when it comes to sharp steel and bloody maces, but I’m perfectly capable with these.” He held up his hands to emphasize the comment. 

Kiyoko Masuyo smiled softly once more. “We shall see.”

She might have said more, but the elevator dinged at this point and opened to show the HCP center. Walking past the auditorium and into the office’s section of the underground facility, the two friends continued to bring each other up to date with what had been happening over the summer. Pausing before heading into the boardroom, Adrian looked closely at Kiyoko. “It really is good to have you back, you know. Chicago just wasn’t the same without your smile brightening its streets.” 

“Thank you.” she dipped her head in response, then looked distantly away for a few seconds. “It means a lot to hear that.”

“You’re welcome. As long as you don’t forget it. Now, let’s go get this mess started.” he stated as he swung the door open to allow her entrance ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

Entering the boardroom revealed the rest of the staffed heroes gathered around an oval-like table, student files and many piles of paperwork scattered about haphazardly. 

“Good.” Dean Jackson looked up from his position at the head of the table and thoroughly scanned both of them. “Glad you guys could make it,” he commented dryly. “Now sit down and buckle up. We have a lot of work to get done, and no time to do it in. Amery, would you mind giving us a quick update on the upcoming senior class? Any issues we should be made aware of, or concerns with the students?”

The older focus instructor shifted in his seat and thought for a few seconds before answering, his Swedish accent more prevalent than usual after the summer break. “That would be a negative sir. Perhaps we’ve gotten lucky, but this year’s senior class is fairly straightforward. No situations have arisen as of yet, and I don’t foresee any in the near future.”

“The same could be spoken for the junior class.” Coach Langston’s matter of fact tone broke in. She continued to peruse a few separate files before nodding to the dean. “Should be all good for the beginning of the year, at least until trials start.” 

“Okay, then let’s move on to our more immediate subjects.” He motioned towards the display in the middle of the table. “I’m sure you’re all aware of what’s been happening in and around Overton lately. Now, there isn’t much we can do to help them directly; but I’ll be damned if I let some scrubmaker politicians try to take over our schools. In the interest of cooperation, I agreed to allow the reentrance of an extra student or two into the program, albeit if their original dismissal was unjust, and if they had the necessary potential to continue. As such, we have one applicant currently in processing.” He shuffled a few papers before pulling one out and focusing on it. 

“Susan Owens. A shifter with some interesting properties. End of second-year dropout, so she’ll be quite a bit ahead of the current sophomore class. You all have the same file in front of you, so in the interest of expediency, we’ll skip the basics. This could be potentially throwing something of screwball in our current class, but I’d like to see how they handle the changeup. Thoughts? 

Adrian grinned before mentioning what was certainly on everyone’s minds. “Meredith Hopkins is going to have a hard time handling a new top dog.” 

Langston nodded quietly. “We’ll have to keep a close eye on Miss Hopkins. Regardless, I believe Susan will be entering with quite an advantage due to her extra experience. Is there anything you wish us to implement with her training? No point in wasting forward movement.”

Dean Jackson shook his head, though he did seem to ponder the thought for a few moments. “I’ll tell you what, let’s judge her combat matches for ourselves before we make any further commitment to her future training. Regardless, I want an advanced roster and schedule replanned. Let’s keep on track with everything else we can.”

After receiving multiple nods of confirmation, he turned to the largest mixture of paperwork and files lying in front of him. “Alright, then without further ado… let’s figure out who we want to see get beat up this year.”

As the rest of the teachers good-naturedly chuckled, a screen projected to the wall on their right; filling up with a tournament-style bracket, aligned vertically with a long list of names. The Freshman beat down was about to begin.

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