Zach watched the blocky grey clock with tired eyes. 11:13. He had about an hour and a half left. Class wouldn’t be out for another two minutes. He leaned back against the tarnished railing, tearing his eyes away from the digital display as he glanced out the window. Outside, in the courtyard below, a handful of students pushed fliers of a particularly garish shade of green into the hands of passerby. Even without seeing their contents, Zach knew more or less what they said.
“March Against the BSC!” “Justice for Peoria!” “Reject the Superpowered Elite!” “10 Easy Tricks to Foil Clairvoyants!”
There were similar fliers pinned up all over the city. It was particularly bad near Zach’s workplace, but campus was even worse. You could barely move thirty feet before running into one. Zach had probably seen dozens, just on his walk into this building today.
A murmur drew Zach’s attention back to the door of the classroom he had been watching. The wooden frame was now open, and students were beginning to pour out of the classroom inside. Zach monitored the flood of students from a short distance, checking each face as it emerged. Student after student disappeared down the hallway, none of them matching the description of the student Zach was looking for.
Finally, a tall, twiggy student appeared. An olive-colored beanie nearly covered a shock of bright, copper hair. The boy fiddled intently with his phone in one hand as he turned to exit down the hallway. Zach pushed off of the railing, half-jogging as he hurried to catch up to the student.
“Hey,” Zach hailed the student as he neared his side, “Scott Bauer, isn’t it?” he asked, extending an arm. “My name is Jeff. Jeff Casey. I was wondering if you had a minute. I’d really like to talk to you about something.”
The student looked up from his phone, scrutinizing the man who had addressed him. What he saw was a man of average height. His dark brown hair, almost black, was parted neatly and slicked back. The style matched the formality of the suit he wore, which was entirely black and paired with a black tie. It took less than a second for Scott Bauer to pin Jeff Casey as a government agent.
“Sorry, I don’t talk to feds,” Scott replied with a frown, as he returned his attention to his phone and turned to leave.
Zach smiled and a hint of menace entered his eyes as they met with Scott’s.
“I’m not a fed, but I am here to discuss your recent acts of civil disobedience. We can either discuss that loudly on the way to wherever you’re going, or you can spare a couple of minutes and we can find a quieter place to chat.”
Zach watched as doubt swam through the student’s eyes. There was no way he’d believe that ‘Jeff’ wasn’t a fed from a single, unproven claim. Right now he was probably trying to figure out if any of his friends had snitched on him, or if perhaps the BSC had used a clairvoyant to find him. Regardless, there was no way the boy would risk the contents of such a conversation being overheard. His expression hardened as he nodded.
“Follow me,” he commanded, both his tone and expression, hostile. Zach smiled, sliding his hands contentedly into his pockets as he turned to follow the boy.
Scott led him down a flight of stairs in a remote corner of the psychology building, and out the same obscure side door that Zach had used to enter it. The two followed a trail of dry dirt that had been carved into the university’s lawn, back behind the row of university buildings and into the treeline that divided the university from a local park. The same trail divided the sparse undergrowth, clearing their path through the thin strip of woods, before emerging behind a gazebo.
The gaudy, white structure was some ways from the rest of the park. It was used occasionally for weddings and informal recitals for the music students, but nobody would have reason to visit it this early on a weekday.
“Alright, what do you want?” Scott sighed, dropping onto one of the gazebo’s many stone benches.
Zach looked down at the distraught student for a moment, before beginning.
“You and a couple of friends recently vandalized the BSC office on 30th and Pacific.”
“Look man,” Scott interrupted. “It was just a little paint. We can clean it up, if that helps.” A genuine grin broke across Zach’s face.
“A little paint?” he chuckled. “That had to have been buckets! The entire staircase out front was dripping with red.”
Scott frowned, realizing his failure to trivialize the crime committed by him and his friends.
“I got a good laugh out of that,” Zach continued.
At these words, Scott’s expression changed to one of confusion.
“I told you I wasn’t a fed, didn’t I?” Zach shrugged.
“If you aren’t a fed, then who are you, and why do you care?” Scott queried angrily. “How did you even know how to find me?”
“My name’s Jeff Casey. I’m a person, like you, who opposes the use of superpowers by law enforcement entities.”
“And what do you want from me, Jeff Casey?” Scott retorted skeptically.
“I want to help you,” Zach said earnestly. “Your stunt with the paint was entertaining, but like you said, it was just a little paint. I think you can do better.”
“Better?”
Zach adopted a grave tone.
“Our legal system wasn’t built for the existence of superpowers,” he sighed. “Any legislation that’s been created, has served only to protect and empower those who already exert power over our society. The scales are too imbalanced. You and I both know this isn’t a battle that can be won within the confines of the law. It’s a battle that needs to be fought on the streets by those who understand that we can’t afford to allow the government to use superpowers to control us. Sure, passing out fliers, and picketing out front of Cypress Pharmaceuticals and dumping cans of paint on the steps of the BSC might help bring attention to the issue, but they aren’t going to win the battle.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” Scott gasped. Of course he understood the implication Zach’s words held, but he wanted to hear it for himself.
“I’m suggesting that a more active stance needs to be taken,” Zach stated simply
“You want to fight them?” Scott asked incredulously. “We can’t fight them. They’ve got guys that shoot fire from their hands.”
“Yeah, and who says we can’t do that too?” Zach shot back. “The cartels have managed to wage an all-out war in South America.”
“The cartels? The stuff they use is way weaker than what Cypress is cooking up for the BSC. The only reason they’ve been able to last this long is because of their numbers.”
“That’s fair,” Zach smirked, “but, I’m not offering the stuff the cartels use. What I have is the real deal, government grade Trufloxin. Even a little is enough to last for hours, and there’s none of the side-effects you see in the street versions. All we need is a small, carefully selected group of people executing targeted attacks with a little help from Liquid Gold, and we’ve got a solid chance at a meaningful rebellion.”
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“Do you seriously think you can pull this off?” Scott scoffed.
“I already am. I’m simply offering you a chance to become part of it,” Zach goaded.
“And what if I decide to turn you in to the BSC?” Scott threatened. Zach shrugged.
“If I thought that giving you my name or face would compromise my operation, I wouldn’t have done so. All you’d accomplish by going to the BSC is outing yourself and your friends as the vandals who sabotaged their office. Still, though, it’s up to you.”
Scott scowled.
“Why should I trust you?” he asked.
“I’m glad to see that you have a healthy sense of caution, but I have both a plan and the means to execute it. I can give you a real shot at the revolution you’re imagining every time you pass out fliers or toss cans of paint,” Zach answered without missing a beat.
Scott’s scowl softened and he now seemed to be deep in thought.
“Naturally, I don’t expect you to decide right now,” Zach added. “I’ll give you some time to think things over. Expect to see me again in a couple of days.”
The the sharp-dressed man waved over his shoulder as he stepped lightly down the steps of the gazebo. Ducking around back, he returned they way they had come, vanishing into the trees.
The second Scott was out of sight, Zach’s left hand was out of his pocket and his eyes were on his watch. 12:07. Only 20 minutes or so left. He was cutting it close, but it should be enough.
He heaved a sigh of relief, but before he could take a step, he heard a twig snap some distance behind him. Was it Scott? The dorms were in the opposite direction. Did he have business on campus, after all? As Zach glanced behind him, his eyes met not with Scott’s, but with those of a burly man wearing a suit. Another suit-clad man followed behind him. BSC.
Zach broke into a sprint, closing the distance between him and the edge of the woods in seconds. He could hear the men following close behind as he raced down the dirt path and back into the psychology building. Thankfully, this hall was clear of students. He ran a couple of meters along it before stopping. Calming his breathing as best he could, he turned and began walking slowly back towards the door he had come from.
Seconds later, the men in suits burst through the door, only to find one student walking towards the exit. A young man in cargo shorts with shaggy and untamed blonde hair stared wide-eyed at the two men. The man in front blinked and looked around, searching for any sign of the dark-haired man they had been chasing.
“A man in a suit! Which way did he run?” he shouted, startling the youth. He glanced at the men and then back towards the entrance to one of the side-halls that branched off of this one.
“One just ran that way,” he answered, gesturing towards the side-hall where he had been looking. “What’s going on?” he asked, concernedly. The two men ignored his question, instead racing down the path he had indicated. Zach smiled as he watched them disappear. Opening the side door with the heel of his hand, he once again exited the building.
Maintaining the appearance of the student, he made his way, this time, towards the front of the building. Mixing in with the other students, he crossed the courtyard in front of the psychology building. As he made his way along the path, a student shoved one of those green fliers into his hands.
“This weekend! March against the BSC!” he shouted as Zach passed.
A glance at the flier confirmed his earlier suspicions. They were advertising a demonstration that a student organization had planned to give the public a chance to voice their dissatisfaction with the Bureau of Superpowered Containment. What a joke. Zach scowled as he folded the flier neatly and slipped it into his pocket. He would have to burn it later. It had his prints on it now, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
Maybe next time he made one of these runs, he should wear gloves, Zach thought to himself. He silently cursed his luck. He would have to give up on Scott Bauer. It was especially unfortunate, since he had seemed mostly convinced at the time of Zach’s leaving. It also meant that his Jeff Casey persona was now burned. This was the exact reason why he used a different persona whenever dealing with a contact, but it was still unfortunate. This was likely the first glimpse that the BSC had gotten of any of his numerous personas.
An entertaining thought crossed Zach’s mind and he smirked. He wondered if those BSC agents had been able to catch him on photo or video. They probably had. His disguise wouldn’t work on that, but they were gonna be pissed when they realized what he’d done.
At a the corner of 30th and Douglas, Zach entered the Skyway station. He pulled a single use ticket from his pocket and fed it into the kiosk, taking care to use the edges of his fingers whenever possible. The light on the turnstile blinked green, and Zach pushed through it, climbing the stairs to the boarding area at the top.
He eyed his watch nervously as he waited for the train. 12:21. Fewer than ten minutes were left. He was running out. Reluctantly, Zach decreased his power’s radius, concentrating his remaining energy on those nearest to him. He sighed in relief as the train scudded smoothly into the platform.
Immediately after boarding, he made his way to the bathroom. He sighed as the door closed behind him. 12:27. Zach released the illusion of the blonde-haired student, returning to his natural appearance. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and was briefly blinded by light. His hand shot up to the side of his glasses and flicked the switch that would turn off the lights.
These glasses were a special model that contained a network of outward-facing LED lights within their frame. They were designed to prevent facial recognition from recognizing their wearer when they appeared in security cameras. They would surely be of use if Zach had been recorded by those BSC agents back on campus, as he suspected he had been.
He slid the glasses off his face and tucked them into the folds of his khaki sport coat. It wasn’t quite as formal as the suit that he had worn as Jeff Casey, but it was good enough for work. He ran a hand through his messy, chestnut hair in a futile effort to keep it from falling in front of his eyes. Somewhat satisfied with his appearance, Zach went through the motions of flushing and running the sink before leaving the bathroom and taking his seat.
Zach’s eyes wandered outside of the plexiglass window of the train car as the historic brick buildings of Redwood splintered into the shining glass towers of Newton. Zach idly soaked in the city’s sprawling metropolis. He found himself frowning as his gaze ran across the rift between North and South. It was amazing how much a city could change in just a few years.
Ten years ago, an outsider could hardly tell Delsin’s various boroughs apart. It took the seasoned eyes of a local to spot the smaller details that built up each borough’s character. Now it was clear at a glance where all of the wealth was. Which districts had succeeded, and which had withered and descended into poverty.
Zach remembered the first day he had ever set eyes on the city. Fresh out of high school, the size had overwhelmed him. For the first two months after starting school at Delsin State University, he never left campus. Gradually, as he befriended local students in his classes, he began to venture out into the city. As he discovered the joys of exploration, he began taking strolls through the city on his own, just for the hell of it.
By the end of his university years, he knew the streets of Redwood and Newton like the back of his hand. He had even frequented Edgewater, back before it had become the slum it was today. Nowadays, you couldn’t go anywhere near Edgewater without expecting to lose your wallet. It was tragic. No other community had been hit as hard by the changes caused by the Department of Psychical Affairs’ new policies than them.
“Now approaching Cypress Square,” a robotic female voice rang across the loudspeaker. Zach pulled a plastic badge from his pocket and clipped it to the front of his jacket. The name “Cypress Pharmaceuticals” was boldly emblazoned across the top of the badge, followed by a photograph of a noticeably younger Zach and his full name and title: Dr. Zachary Flemming, Scientific Research Lead.
Zach exited the station, strolling through the automatic gates and down the stairs to the platform. As soon as he opened the station doors, the sound hit him. Twenty or so protesters bustled along the pavement outside the front of the building. Several of them hoisted weathered cardboard signs above their heads. Zach recognized these protesters as the usual crowd that showed up from time to time to remind Cypress Pharmaceuticals and all of its employees that they were terrible people.
A couple of them recognized Zach as he made his way towards the front doors and hurled insults in his direction. Zach sighed and glared at the protesters out of the corner of his eye as he passed through the tall, glass doors. Their hearts were in the right place, but there were so many better ways they could be using their time. It was unfortunate, but by showing their faces in a public setting, like this, they were probably all over the BSC’s watchlists. At this point, marching and chanting were the most they would ever be capable of contributing to their cause. Peaceful protests wouldn’t change anything, and Zach didn’t need reminding that he was a terrible person. Very soon, he would show them what a real revolution looked like.