Saturday, December 19
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Flashbulbs and camera lenses filled the entire quad outside Tokyexico University’s Student Union Building. Fans of Heroics 101, Dr. Mays, and Mindstorm yelled and shouted behind the media, waving banners. And on the opposite side, APPEAL had assembled, chanting slogans and waving their own flags. It was press conference time.
It’d been a couple of days, and TU’s administration had used every trick in the book to keep the reporters off campus and away from students, but finals week was over. So, here I was, on the stage with Mindstorm and Dr. Mays, thinking about how unfair it all was.
They’d had their conference earlier, of course. All they had to do for finals week was collect papers, proctor exams, and do a little grading. Meanwhile, I’d been attacked by a major league villain, fought an army of temp heroes to a standstill, cleaned Bianca’s nightmare dorm room, and managed to at least half-ass my exams—all while both her parents and mine grew ever closer by road and plane.
And now, since they’d had their conferences, all the professors of superpower studies had to do was watch the press eat me alive and freeze my butt off. At least Bianca was entertaining all the parents, so I didn’t have to do that too.
“According to our research team, TU’s policy was for little and minor league heroes to hole up during the major league attack,” An absolutely gorgeous woman in a bright blue jacket said, “so what was behind your decision to get involved in the episode?”
I clenched a fist behind the podium. This had been going on for almost ten minutes. “You’re mistaken. TU’s official policy was for mid-to-low minor and little league student supers to avoid contact. However, my partner and I had been moving up the minor leagues, and we considered ourselves qualified to help. We’ve both worked with the Triad as auxiliary heroes, and we knew how to act in a support role. It also seemed like Lord Destructo and McHammer were using lieutenants, and we wanted to counter them as a threat.”
“When the episode turned into an all-out offensive by 3V1L, how did you continue justifying your presence on the battlefield? There were now two serious threats, and you weren’t equipped to handle either of them,” another reporter said, smiling a smarmy smile from under his mustache.
“Easy. Once it became clear that 3V1L was involved, it became our show. Fursona and I are responsible for dealing with 3V1L and have been all semester. They’re part of our rogues’ gallery—honestly, the only part that’s been a thorn in our side rather than an annoyance—and this was a direct attack by them on us.” I glanced at Mays, who nodded slowly.
He still looked shaken. It’d been days since The Agent shot Dr. Jackson outside of Walnut Tower, and she wasn’t out of the hospital yet, but the Ilneats were coming back, and I was confident they’d fix her right up. Dr. Mays didn’t seem to share my confidence; he didn’t seem to have slept since Tuesday, and I reevaluated whether the professors were having an easy finals week.
I continued, holding up a hand before another reporter could interrupt me. “Look, I get it. You think I made a bad decision. But here’s the thing. 3V1L wasn’t on campus because they saw an opportunity to help out Lord Destructo and McHammer. They hate those guys—there’s even a big rivalry going down in Evergreen that you aren’t covering. They came here for me.”
Most of the reporters went silent for a moment, but the one in the blue jacket grinned. I winced; I’d seen that smile before. The media reserved it for villains—and when a hero walked into their ambushes.
But she didn’t say anything, and after a second or two, the other reporters seemed ready to keep up the bombardment. Another man, this one with a haircut that would’ve been Agent-like if his hair wasn’t so gray, cleared his throat. “How long has 3V1L been after you specifically?”
I could answer this one, but it’d sound funny. “Okay, that’s a tough question to answer. Last year, Golden Goose wiped out 3V1L, killed their leadership, and scattered them to the winds. But someone picked up the pieces. I don’t know the details, but I think they saw a business opportunity or a chance to diversify their portfolio.”
Official policy, passed down from Rocko and the Council of Heroes, was not to mention The Agent’s name. Rocko’s reasoning made perfect sense; the Ilneat producer had a perfect plot twist, and they stood to make a lot of money by waiting until the episode released to make the reveal. The only thing that bugged me was that they hadn’t released it yet.
The Council of Heroes could only be covering their asses, though.
“So, this mysterious someone took the reins of 3V1L, became the new One L, and started recruiting henches and Vs. This person also did a great job of raiding the Tokyexico Council of Heroes’ archives for any information about their identity, tactics, or whereabouts, so there’s not much evidence about how long they’ve been after me, but if I had to put a rough date on it…May of this year.”
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Another reporter shouted, “And you don’t know who this One L is? How do you propose to deal with 3V1L without a Top Five hero like Golden Goose? Do you have any comments on her death?”
“No comment. Her death’s a tragedy, and she’ll be mourned,” I said stiffly. It was true; plenty of people missed the world’s strongest heroine, and even I wished she was back. All this wouldn’t be happening if she was around. “I can’t speak about the One L’s identity, but I do know that, following their assault on Tokyexico University, their organization’s a shadow of its former self, which was a…shadow…of its former…self.”
I trailed off. The woman in the blue jacket held her hand up, and I nodded at her even though I knew the trap’s jaws were closing. She cleared her throat. “Actually, I can speak for the One L’s identity and his reason for attacking you. The Agent’s had a grudge against you ever since you ruined his protege’s run at the minor leagues. He’s one of the meta-powered supers, and if given long enough to snowball, he only has two counters—one of which he put in the hospital. And no one knows where he is. Do you have any comment on that?”
Well, shit.
I glanced at Doctor Mays, but he shook his head. Mindstorm, on my other side, wasn’t any more helpful. Rocko hadn’t given me a briefing on what to do if this happened, and I didn’t know what the Council of Heroes wanted, either.
So, after an uncomfortable pause stretched a little too long, I cleared my throat and started improvising.
“Yes, The Agent is responsible for all of this. And yes, I was in competition with someone he directly supported last spring. I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, but it’s very good.”
She kept her sharklike smile, and I kept my eyes locked on hers. “So, you’re up against a ridiculously powerful hero with no idea how to track him down—“
“Quick correction,” I interrupted her, holding up my hand again. Her grin finally slipped briefly, and I pressed my advantage like I was fighting a supervillain. “The Agent is not a hero. Maybe he was someday, and I understand still wanting him to be one. He looks great on camera, and [Temp Hero] lets him set up so many cool storylines. But the reality is that he’s a villain. He’s never been a true hero, either. He’s always been out for one person, and that’s The Agent.”
“Okay, you’re up against a ridiculously powerful super with no idea how to track him down. How do you intend to beat 3V1L before he rebuilds it?”
Now, it was my turn to smile like a shark. “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”
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I landed on Walnut Tower’s roof and clomped down the stairs into the Green Room. Feng Swee’s power had been working overtime, and the whole place had changed. I still had my make-up table, but it was off in a corner, and so were the two computer screens that tracked our rogues’ gallery. The chaise lounge was off in a corner, too, and so was a very scribbled-on whiteboard.
But my couch was gone. It’d been replaced by a full-blown living room set in a conversation pit, with an absolutely massive television that, right now, was playing Bianca’s favorite thing to watch over the last four days: episode footage of her highlights. Luckily, it was muted, and Bee herself was being the good hostess; she’d poured drinks—not alcoholic, even though she wasn’t fooling anyone with that—and managed to scrounge together some chips and homemade salsa.
Mom and Dad and Bee’s mom and dad filled out the sofa. I’d been apprehensive about letting so many Extras see my workplace, but they’d worn me down, and even though it’d felt a lot like the boundaries between Anika DuPont and Magical Girl Understudy were collapsing even more, Mom and Dad seemed to get it.
They hadn’t called me Understudy once, and I wanted to hug them for it every time.
Instead, I got a face full of black hair as Bee hugged me. She pulled me in close, wrapping her arms around me, and whispered a couple of words in my ear.
“Did you call me your sidekick?”
“Of course,” I whispered back.
“Good. I don’t want to be your partner if it’s going to get me in front of the camera.”
I burst out laughing. The adults—the adultier adults, that is—were engaged in conversation around the Green Room’s coffee table, and Bee and I slipped away through the door to my apartment. I waved at Dad, and he winked at me. I shot him a thumbs-up.
Then, the maintenance door shut.
“So, it went well, then?” Bee asked.
“Not really. Rocko and the Council are going to be irritated; some reporter figured out who the One L is. Other than that, it was fine. I guess. Can we please hang up the costume for a few days now?” I asked.
“Yeah. Until next year, Fursona and Magical Girl Understudy don’t exist.” Bee pulled a chair out at the table and opened my laptop. She punched in my password, and I had an all-too-familiar sense of deja vu; Peter had known my passwords, too. Then she opened a web browser and navigated to the ‘TU Student Organizations’ page. “Okay, we’ve got options. I’d go get the whiteboard, but maybe it’s better to make a clean break here.”
“Agreed.” I untransformed—it felt weird to do that in front of my parents, even though they’d made me show them once—and sat down next to Bee. “Oooh, that one.”
“Rock climbing club? Really?” Bee poked me in the side. “You know I don’t like heights.”
“Oh, you’re so picky. You can pick, picky!”
She laughed, but then she did. She picked and picked until we had a list of eight clubs to explore in the early weeks of the next semester—from Claymation Club, Film and History, and Shakespeare to Fencing, Intramural Indoor Soccer, and Self-Defense. I raised my eyebrow at the last one, and she grinned. “It’d be really easy for us, and it’s a great way to get to meet people.”
“Okay, we’ll meet the helpless Extras, then,” I said.
Bianca didn’t laugh. “Okay, Anika, I know we’ve been joking about shop talk a lot, but if we’re taking the next couple of weeks off, we really can’t talk about our work. At all. I’ll talk to the old folks about it and make sure they know we want a regular Christmas.”
“That’d be—“ My eyes went wide. “Oh, fuck.”
“Oh, fuck?” Bianca asked.
I nodded, flushing red. Then I leaned in close, just in case someone’s parents decided to come on in. “I haven’t done my shopping.”