It only took nine days for me to come across the first headline asking the question on everyone’s mind. Where Is Olympia? It was strange, admittedly, seeing the headline scroll across a television screen in the middle of nowhere, Arizona. Another world filled with Kaiju and supervillains and responsibilities that were gnawing at me the longer I spent away, but my absence was forcing the Olympiad more into action, so I guess that was something good coming from all this. Adam was making a name for himself as more Kaiju popped up, and supervillains who wanted a piece of the pie got put down like dogs in a back alley. The world was falling in love with my step-brother the more time he spent in the sun, and I hated to admit it, but his smile glinted in the sunlight, too.
All I could do was watch it happen, because I packed up and left for a few days. Yeah, I know, the guilt was already buzzing in my ear, so thinking I was a coward wasn’t going to help me make the decision of going back to New Olympus any easier when I was kicking myself every day. I just needed… time. I cracked after that night in Club Roho. Couldn’t do much of anything without feeling numb and empty because I had watched children get mowed down in front of me and couldn’t do a fucking thing about it. Gods, so much for being Zeus’ daughter when a damned special grade rifle could put me on my ass. The self-loathing was seeping into my bloodstream more often these days, but I was used to it by now. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt like this, anyway.
I was pretty used to not being able to help people when they needed me the most.
Adam, though, was a media darling. He was on every other late night show, filling the screen of whatever dingy motel I ended up at every night. Every channel. Every broadcast. The world wanted to know more about him, and I did, too. But, like all Capes, he had media training. He smiled the perfect smile, told the perfect lie. Vomited up all the right buzzwords that would light up social media and the interviewer’s faces. I grew up in Maine with my aunt and uncle. Mom… I didn’t know her much, and she didn’t leave a lot behind. She was always so busy helping people, you know? She was a field medic, and died in combat two year after I was born. It hurts, still does, and all I want to do is be just like her—save people until I can’t anymore. What a load of horseshit.
But the world lapped it up, because Olympia might have a new brother. They asked about his powers, and if there was a chance if he and I were related, but he was smart, played his cards close to his chest, and smiled the question off and waved it aside. I never saw her at the family cookouts, he would say, then they would all laugh. Maybe if she tells us who she really is, then I might finally get to know some of my family. It’s been lonely the past few years, and I can’t wait to meet my sister one day. And to that, they’ll always ask him: So then, where is Olympia now?
“I don’t know, Paul,” he said in his latest interview. “Maybe she quit being a hero.”
For the record, he was wrong. I hadn’t given up on being a superhero. I just needed time away from the constant noise and hassle that was New Olympus. Dealing with Ava was a problem I wasn’t emotionally ready for yet, because I knew exactly how I would react the second I saw her again. I was trying to step away from that side of myself, anyway. The trigger-ready anger that bubbled up so quickly, that reacted so violently and suddenly. Call it growing up, because yes, running away was something grown ups did when shit got hard, but then again, most grown ups didn’t have the permanent site and smell of burning children seared into their brains. So if Adam wanted to talk badly about me, then fine—it didn’t really matter to me, anyway. I would be pretty bitter, too, if I was forced to eat a mouthful of tarmac and brick on my first time out in the field.
Those were the thoughts I was forcing to circle through my mind to stop myself from getting pissed off. I was getting sick of thinking the same things over and over, but as I lost count doing crunches, running, sparring with myself, and pacing around in this little dingy motel room, it was the one thing keeping me sane. Thinking about being a superhero was taxing, but knowing that they were still talking about me even though I had technically vanished was still somewhat comforting. The humans really do care, was a thought that had popped up recently in my time away. But soon enough, reality was going to hit me like a freight train and send me crashing back down to earth. I told myself that this break was what I needed. To stretch my legs and loosen my hair and just let the world pass me by for a few seconds as I watched from a ridge of puffy clouds.
It was fun for all of two days, and then I started feeling the need to do something again. I had gotten so used to doing things all day and every day that having all this time on my hands left me feeling wasted, useless, guilty, even, because my purpose had always been to kill villains.
And I wasn’t even doing that anymore.
Cool it, Ry, I thought, laying on the floor, sweaty, panting, because I had just come back from crossing the States because I was starting to get sick and tired of seeing the same ceiling. Relax a little. You’re on spring break, remember? The thing that teenagers your age always do.
I lay there panting, sweating into the shag carpet, listening to the audience laugh at another joke Adam told. The tv was the only thing illuminating the darkness, making it shine a dull blue.
This wasn’t bad, I figured. Just a few more days of this and I would be fine. Some peace and quiet never harmed anybody, and it wasn’t like I was sitting on my butt all day doing nothing. I was dragging along rotting train carriages, flying at speeds I’d never before. My powers really were that little bit better now. Stronger. Faster. My senses were more, well, sensitive. I was more agile in the air, something I had always struggled with compared to other fliers. I pivoted better, maintained more force behind my punches (judging by the craters I left in the Nevada desert, at least) on the follow through. I flew fast enough for sound to become dull and droning. And yet…
You still couldn’t save them, no matter how powerful you’ve gotten.
My phone began vibrating, lost in a pile of clothes spilling out of my backpack. I let it continue for a while, but whoever was calling was persistent, shattering the silence around me. My lips thinned as I shut my eyes. A pit was forming in my gut, vast and cold, swallowing me up as more laughter came from the late night talk show. I wanted to be sick. To cover my ears and just wait until both my phone and the television stopped making sounds, but neither did, because the world was spinning underneath me right now and wouldn’t stop just because I was feeling sorry for myself. Exhaustion wasn’t supposed to be part of the job, but opening my eyes again, and letting myself bleed back into the world left me feeling dizzy and tired and empty to my bones.
I sighed as I sat upright, sweat on my brown and running down my stomach. I pulled up my shirt to wipe down my face as I hovered toward the bed. I expected to see Bianca or Em, Denny, too, and sometimes the occasional call from a private number that was probably Poseidon.
My automatic response was to cut the call or let my phone keep ringing itself to bits.
But this phone number was new to me, unsaved. It came with messages, though. Messages that sapped the air out of my lungs because I had forgotten about being Rylee for a very long time.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, hearing its squeaky springs complain. I readied myself, then I picked up. “Hey, Brett,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. My voice was flat. “What’s up?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and massaged them as silence stretched for several seconds. This world that Rylee operated in felt so, so small now, but without it, I would be relying on Ava for forever. I wanted something of my own. Something that I did that wasn’t related to Olympia and her mess of a social life. But it was hard to continue thinking that way after the past few weeks.
But that same cold desperation was still in my body, swimming around my bloodstream.
“No, no, I’m great, kid! Just fine!” He could act, I’ll tell you that much. “What about you, huh? How’s your lovely Thursday night going? The weather is fantastic here in Los Angeles.”
“Yeah, it’s—”
“Where’s the comic you promised me?” Brett said flatly. “It’s been three weeks, Rylee.”
I massaged my temples, leaning forward and shutting my eyes. “I don’t know, Brett.”
“I’m sorry?” he asked. “I think I might’ve heard wrong. That sounded like an admittance.”
“It is,” I muttered. “Everything about the comic slipped my mind. New Olympus kinda fell apart the day you left, and I’ve been wrapped up in trying to help people figure out how they’re—”
“Look, kid,” Brett said, cutting me off. “I love the stories you come up with, because they’re always so sad and depressing—and really, my heart goes out to those poor, poor people who lost their loved ones that day—but sad and depressing doesn’t really sell ‘action superhero comic book,’ now, does it? Especially to the crowd that is gonna hate seeing Olympia’s face in book stores and malls.” I didn’t have an answer, so I let him continue. “I know I said we could make a story out of you, a sensation that would blow most of these hacks right out of the water.”
“You said you could make something great out of me,” I said quietly.
Silence. Silence for a long time. “I did,” he said softly, losing the spunk in his voice. “But I can only do that if you want to make something of yourself, too. I’m an agent, not a manager—not yours, at least. I’ve got to focus on what I can work with, and right now, your little friends from high school seemingly don’t want to do that, either. I’m cashing in and heading out, and I guess you missed the train for what could have been your destination to mark yourself down in history. It sounds big and dreamy and oh-so-wonderful, and that’s because it is. I believe in that kinda stuff. I just wish you had too before you gave up on yourself, but I’m starting to think you never did.”
I sat still, completely still, not knowing what to do or say. It was like downing ice cold water on a hot day, except it wasn’t refreshing, but made your teeth hurt and your throat raw. I couldn’t be angry at Brett. He had given me a chance, and I had screwed it up. I didn’t know what to say to him that would even make him reconsider, and by the sounds of it, Atomville was going out of production, too. I didn’t have any weight in my corner anymore. Hadn’t spoken to Em ever since the Kaiju attack on 12th Avenue after she snapped her arm. Gods, I should check on her.
I sighed for a few seconds, blowing air through my teeth. “Yup,” I said. “Yeah, I…”
“It’s all right,” he replied. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to make this kind of call, but it doesn’t get easier hearing a kid’s heart shatter. You’re still young. Still got something great going on. You’ve just got to put in the work. It won’t be with me, but maybe someone else will pick you up, but if you do end up doing great stuff, then you’ve got my number. Until then…” Brett sighed a little, then said, “If you are a superhero, Rylee, you should consider saving yourself some time.”
He cut the call, leaving me on my bed, staring at the carpet, holding the phone to my ear.
I wanted to be so many things in that moment: angry, bitter, but I had done that to myself, dug my own grave, signed away any chance I might have had at not relying on a supervillain for my future, because it all came back to one single thought: if I was a better superhero, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be thinking about dead kids. Wouldn’t let my phone slip from my hand and bounce off the carpet, taking my way out of this mess with it. There was always a little more to do, always more to push for. The bar really was right there above my head, but the more I reached for it, the further away it felt. Things used to be easy for me. I woke up heading to school knowing that I stopped a bank robbery last night before coming home and finishing my math homework. I won medals and held trophies. Flirted with the idea that Bianca and I could be more than friends. I walked around keeping this secret that would change everyone’s life around me if I let it all out.
Being a superhero used to be fun, this thing that would keep me awake rolling over in my bed to sneak a look at my costume every night, but my mom hates me, I’m guessing my friends do too, the city needs my help but I seemingly can’t get that right, either. I was playing chicken with a supervillain who had a leash around my throat, threatening to upend my life once and for all. It was this series of cascading events that just went on and on and fuck, I wanted to catch a break, all right? Was that so bad? I could swallow it like I always did. Lift up my chin and take it because that’s what superheroes did, and that’s what they were supposed to do. Zeus’ mighty daughter, the heir to New Olympus. The girl who was going to rebuild the pillars that this city was once built on.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Well, there were rats fighting in the floorboards, and there was mold growing on the ceiling. I missed mom’s meatloaf and wanted to hang out with my friends at lunch all over again.
A part of me figured this would be easier if I wasn’t half-human. Less fiddling emotions, more decisive actions. Dad never stuttered, but… I guess mom didn’t stumble around either. When dad kicked it, she never stopped moving along. Never stopped raising me. She stayed strong.
I pushed my fingers through my hair, the realization dawning on me that I might just miss my mom. I smiled a little, because thinking it was admitting that she was right about being a superhero. About it not working. About me not being cut from the same cloth that dad had been.
But you know me. I was stubborn, and that wouldn’t change any time soon.
A knock on the door startled me awake at some time around three in the morning. My mouth was stale, my throat was hot and dry. I blinked and sat upright, untangling myself from the rough bedsheets. The tv was still on, playing some late night commercial about some guy talking about how he could teach your kid how to fly out of the back of his van. My phone was dead. The lights were glaring. More knocking on the door, each hit harder. Who was it now? I was planning on touring a few more states and their villain hotspots to get my blood pumping in the morning. A girl needed her rest if she wanted to get her head on straight and remove a couple heads in the process.
I had convinced myself that at least a few more days away would be good for me. I never said anything about giving up. All I needed was to get my head straight again, because at some point, I got lost in the constant fights and arguments and the gutter trash under my nails. I was planning on coming back better, more focused, but that was supposed to be in the morning, not right now with someone banging so hard against the door it made my head hurt with each knock.
So maybe it was the sleep deprivation playing tricks on me when I opened the door and found nobody waiting outside. Residue of stress messing with my head, making me hear things that didn’t really exist right now. I stood there in my t-shirt and sports shorts, touched by a humid gust. Moths fluttered around the light above my door. The other rooms in the motel were silent except for an ancient radio playing hit songs from the past three decades. I frowned, looked around once more, then shut my door. Maybe it was just the wind, I thought. Or some speedster playing a prank on me. I yawned, turning back to my bed, dragging myself across the tiny room until—
Lucas was sitting on the sole armchair in the room, right there in the corner. He was smoking a cigarette that illuminated his eyes. He stared at me, sucking on the tube of nicotine.
I glanced at the locked window and the recently locked door, then at him. “How’re you—”
“Sleep muddles your senses,” he muttered. “It was the same with your old man.”
“That doesn’t explain how you got in here,” I said. “How long have you been sitting—”
“You talk when you sleep, right in between your snoring.” He continued smoking, filling the room with the acrid scent. “Something about a girl. Bianca, I’m guessing. And Olympia, too.”
How the hell did he find me?
As if he read my mind, Lucas said, “Tracking device,” like that made perfect sense, which it didn’t, because he had taught me how to pick through my clothes for them. That’s why finding Ava’s shadow was such a pain because I couldn’t find anything in my room or on my clothes.
Which left one place left that I hadn’t checked, but that would mean…
“Did you put a freaking tracker inside of me?”
Lucas killed his cigarette on the coffee table beside him. “Precautions.”
“That’s a violation of… fuck, that’s a violation of me!”
“You were a baby,” he explained, waving his hand. “I was just being cautious.”
“You know where I was born,” I said, lowering my voice—the walls here were thin. “I couldn’t exactly just run away one day never to be seen again. Explain yourself better, Lucas.”
“Fine,” he said. “I was being cautious for us. Humanity. Because when someone like you vanishes, it sets off the alarm bells. I mean, Jesus, kid, you picked this place to bury your head in?”
I sat on the edge of my bed and spread my arms. “It’s simple, and it’s cheap, and when I saved a bar about two miles away from a biker gang, I didn’t have to spend the entire night trying to figure out who’s boss works for who and why they have an agenda against a hole in the wall. Hell, they even give me free beer! I don’t get drunk off it, but did you know how many calories are in those bottles? I swear, it makes me wonder why I even bother fueling up on food all the time.”
Lucas nodded slowly, staring at me. I wasn’t sure if he’d blinked. “So,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a child, “dealing with a pack of bikers is what you want to be doing with yourself.”
It beats trying to create a web of conspiracies like some lunatic at midnight. But I kept that thought to myself, because the lunatic in front of me was very good at playing the common man.
I looked away, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not hiding,” I said, defending myself. “I just needed a breather before I came back to New Olympus. Everything in that damned city is rotting, Lucas.”
“And it’s supposed to be your job to clear out that rot before it kills everything.”
I nodded, not too impressed. “Right. And how’s that been going so far?”
“Oh, cut the bullshit, Ry,” he said dryly. “I didn’t come here to console some self-pitying teenager having a mood swing. You have a duty, so you do that duty. Come on let’s go, we’re wasting time sitting in this damned place. It makes me feel filthy just sitting here in this armchair.”
I waved at the door. “New Olympus is that way, Mr. Superhero. Go save ‘em.”
His eyes narrowed, his jaw setting in place. There was something unnerving with how easily his face blanked. “I’m gonna assume that something major happened for you to react this way, because the Rylee I know wouldn’t be so willing to sit on her butt in goddamned Arizona.”
“Hey,” I said, shrugging. “Arizona ain’t so bad once you get used to the heat.”
“Rylee,” he said, his tone flat and cold, sapping the air out of the room. Lucas waited for me to crack, to break and explain myself. We had gone through interrogation techniques before, but I wasn’t a very patient person, especially with bad guys. I knew to play the long game, knew that Lucas would eventually stop tapping his finger against the arm rest, and stop staring at me with those cold green eyes, or at least move a little so his entire body wasn’t facing me for several minutes. The distance between us was getting smaller, eaten up by the simple intensity in him.
I did, finally, sigh quietly and lean forward. Lucas tilted his head, waiting for me to speak. I ended up telling him almost everything, except for the parts about playing a supervillain. He would find out one day, but until then, all he did was become more and more stoic as I explained what had been going on over the past month in Lower Olympus. He knew the situation was bad, but judging by how he stopped moving entirely, he didn’t know how bad. I had been giving him updates, sure, sending him texts and voice messages when I could, but when I reached the part about the children, their screaming, hearing them screech and bark and cry and try and fight against people who didn’t even bother looking them in the eyes as they pulled the trigger… he told me to stop talking. It was the first thing he had said in minutes, and I obliged, sick to my stomach.
Neither of us said anything for a while. The TV continued playing ads, oblivious to us.
“The Jericho Triad,” Lucas said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “Lucian would never—”
“He’s not in charge anymore,” I said. “The gang’s under new management right now.” Still, his reply set off a silent alarm in me. A long time ago, Ava had said that my father and hers had shaken hands. That there was a reason the Olympians never bothered with Lucian’s gang. The Olympians who were still alive weren’t big enough fans of me to answer my questions, but I had one sitting right in front of me. “How would you know that Lucian wouldn’t? He was a villain.”
Lucas nodded slowly, mind far away as he said, “Yeah, but not that kind of villain.”
“Shit is shit, doesn’t matter who it comes from.”
“If you’re accusing us of being in bed with supervillains, Rylee, then say it.”
I glared at him. “I would just like to know if my mentor is fucking with me.”
He stared at me, silent. “I don’t have to explain the actions we took to you. Times were different than they are now, and it’s as simple as that. Your father understood that better than you.”
I swore, shaking my head. “Right, of course he did. Zeus knew freaking everything because he was just so awesome and powerful and made a deal with a goddamned supervillain.”
“What, you’re angsting about the legitimacy of your own father now?” he asked, spite in his voice. “Grow up, Rylee, and understand that decisions had to be made. Lucian was evil. A sick, twisted, god forsaken man who knew what he was doing. You think I was on board with it? You think everyone was? We fought in the dark and smiled in front of the cameras because of kids just like you who thought we were perfect, but news flash, Rylee—we shook hands with the devil and guess what? Lower Olympus was in its best shape for nearly a decade. Now look at it, Ry.”
I stared at him, disgust in my mouth. “You made a deal with a supervillain. A supervillain who nearly killed me. His daughter is running the show, and… What, I shake her bloody hand?”
“That depends,” he said smoothly. “How much do you want peace in Lower Olympus?”
“The hell kind of question is—”
“Or do you want everyone to know that you cleaned the city up, as they take photos of you with whatever big bad is controlling it dead in your arms? Smiling I’m sure, and covered in blood.”
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Her men murdered dozens of children, Lucas.”
“Yes, they did,” he said calmly. “And there’s nothing worse than seeing a kid get killed in this mess that we live in, but her subordinates were working on their own accord, weren’t they?”
“You’re making fucking excuses for a gang that murdered a bunch of trafficked kids!”
Lucas looked at me, through me. “What I’m doing is trying to make you understand how that family operates. Lucian went on every outing, every smuggle, every bang, because he knew exactly how these people operate. Most of them are thugs with ill blood. Guys and girls who grew up already screwed up in the head and got stuck with an assault rifle and a job that lets them justify themselves. There are criminals, and then there are supervillains. The Rivera family is a dynasty, and has been for more decades than both you and I have been around combined. They’re smart, they’re calculating, they’re manipulative, and do things that only benefit them, but it has to be logical. Make sense. From what you’re telling me, his daughter is still new to this game, but she’s learning quickly, and she’s made mistakes, but she’s still pointing in one direction and not taking any detours. Tell me, Rylee—sit down, now, and tell me—why she would want children dead.”
I was simmering inside. I couldn’t stop arcs of light jumping between my fingers. “She’s a supervillain, Lucas. Those people don’t need any reason to do anything evil. I know that much.”
“You’re not listening,” he said, leaning forward. “Think. Why would she do it?”
“Why are you making me justify—”
“Was she with them when it happened?”
“No, but—”
“So think.”
I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. He wanted me to even consider the fact that a supervillain like Ava wouldn’t kill those kids? She was the one who wanted us to get Cedric in the first place. She wanted us to grab him. She must have known about the kids, about this entire operation. My guess was that I wasn’t filled in on most of the mission brief because of Ava’s mole problem. Information was being kept tight so the Triumvirate didn’t get one over her.
But… wasn’t that also just another excuse? Some other thing keeping me ignorant?
I didn’t know. I did not know. There, was he happy, seeing the resignation creep into my eyes, making him sit back? I hadn’t thought about it, because why should I? Kids were murdered. It was as simple as that. Ava was to blame because she had responsibility over her people. She knew, had to, but I didn’t know if she did, but did it really matter? She was the one who gave O’Reiley the gun, despite not being the one who pulled the trigger. Gods, this was the reason I didn’t want to go back. I was jumping through hoops for these godforsaken creatures. Humans. Humans and their games and their deep-seated want to be higher than the rest of their species.
And it’s not any different back home, I thought bitterly.
Fuck it. I needed some air before my body got any hotter and I ended up hurting Lucas.
“If you leave,” he said, just as I put my hand on the door, “be prepared for what’s next.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?” I asked over my shoulder, spitting the words.
“Your mom,” Lucas said, sighing. “She’s on the other side of that door.”