The briefing on pay, insurance, and all the other tedious sundries of a new job had taken over an hour, and many pens worth of ink, but they were finally done. Along with coming up with potential hero names and costumes, which was the only way Jason had stayed awake. Nothing had been finalized, they would be contacting them throughout the week for additional details and input, but they were in. Time to eat!
When they and the dozen or so other hero candidates had joined in the hall, they’d been told they were getting a ‘welcome to the superhero community’ speech by one of the locals, a man calling himself Raging Storm. Max watched cautiously as a slender man in a long, black leather trench coat, combat boots, fatigues, and long, stringy hair took the stage. He had a scowl on his face and carried a great many guns and knives strapped to his body, but was barely taller than Jason. It looked like the weight of his gear would tip him over at any moment.
“Welcome, maggots. Welcome to the last days of your pathetically peaceful lives, where any of the cares and worries plaguing this city can’t worm into your soul. You know what they call this place: Tarnished Silver City. I call it a cesspool of greed and corruption infested with filthy, flea-bitten rats gnawing on the decaying corpse of dignity. You’ll face degenerates that would have to clean themselves up to be called scum, and a bullet to the brain is the kindest sympathy the angel of mercy can bestow.
"Filth stroll these rotten streets, and we’re the garbage men to take it out. Mark my words, those who empathize with trash are trash. I hope that someday the walking sludge containers we call ‘citizens’ wake up and smell the sewage, but I’m not holding my breath. Decency and hope are four-letter words in this town, but it’s up to us to pack this keg with powder and ignite it with our pure hate, blowing it all away. Gone with the demolition charge. Heh.”
He smirked and whirled away from the podium with a flap of his treachcoat, to a smattering of polite, apprehensive, and confused applause.
“Raging Storm, everyone!” Vivian said enthusiastically.
“Is that man stable?” Max wondered aloud.
“Oh, that’s just Raging Storm. He’s been active the last couple of years, he’s always like that. He scowls and tries to be intimidating, but no one really buys it.” Jason said. Just then, Vivian came up to them.
“Excuse me gentlemen! I hate to interrupt your presentation, but there’s a matter that’s come up we’d like your help with. Please come with me.” Jason glanced at Max, who just shrugged and followed.
She escorted them to a bare office on the second floor, with only an overhead light and a table for furnishings. Max raised an eyebrow. It seemed more for an interrogation than a meeting place.
“Alright, now that we’re here I’m afraid that we’re going to have to hold on for just a moment as not everyone-” Her phone beeped. “Oh! Speak of the devil. Much faster than I anticipated!” Vivian said brightly. “He’ll be here in a mome-”
The door burst open, Detective Armstrong barreling in with his revolver drawn, followed by the harried proctor from the exam, and what looked like two nervous-looking men in robotic armor.
“Don’t move! Detective Armstrong, SCPD! Down on the ground, hands behind your back!” Armstrong barked.
“Is something the matter, gentlemen?” Max asked pleasantly.
“Down on the ground!” one of the power-suited men said.
“Hands in the air!” the other cried.
“Get on your knees!”
“Hands on your head!” The floodgates of police commands had opened up, the two men shouting them holding up extremely large guns, vaguely reminding Max of hairdryers, that began to hum ominously.
“Should we take the shot, sir!?” one of them asked the proctor. The man opened his mouth, but the other jumped in.
“Suspect has not complied! Requesting orders to open fire!” he shouted, and pulled from his belt another strange gun. Max had all he could take.
“ENOUGH!” he bellowed, the force of his voice making the walls and table vibrate. Everyone was silent as they stared. “Ahem. I’m sorry. Who is in charge here?”
“That would be Det. Armstrong and my supervisor, Director Harrison!” pointing to the man who looked like he’d stepped off the set of a noir movie, and the dishevelled proctor.
“Thank you for that, Viv. Now shut up.” Harrison grumbled, rubbing his head. Damn that was loud! “I’m Harrison, director of operations at Intrepid Inc. We called the cops after a missing child with no known history of power suddenly strolls in with a mysterious individual and is now capable of shapeshifting. Forgive us if we’re suspicious.” he drawled, looking around. “Where is the kid, anyway?”
“Right here!” Max supplied, bringing a cat out from under the desk.
“...that’s a cat.” Armstrong said.
“Weren’t you listening? The kid can shapeshift.” Harrison growled. “I called you because he’s been missing for three months.”
“And it’d go a lot easier without your goon squad here!” Armstrong snapped, waving his hand to the high-strung armored men, still pointing humming guns at the duo.
“Super-strong guy comes in with a missing kid? You bet I’m bringing backup!” Harrison fired back.
“Gentlemen?”
“What?” Both turned to Max, meekly raising his hand.
“I’d be more than happy to explain, if I have a chance. I found Jason on the street a few days ago, and some people were after him so I decided to take him in. Upon doing so, we both agreed to a career change to superheroes, whereupon I believe this agency contacted you. Yes?” Max said, smiling. Armstrong was on the cat in a flash.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Someone was after you?” he asked. Jason’s fur was standing straight up, but he nodded. His form blurred and morphed in a mere moment into a boy again. Max leaned to whisper to them.
“MetaTech Industries are the ones who gave him his ability, and the ones who shot an RPG at me to keep me away from him.” he told Armstrong. The detective’s eyes went wide. “I trust you see why I didn’t go to the police immediately.”
“Did you plan this!?” Jason whirled on Max, who just hushed him.
“But then…” The gears were turning in the detective’s mind. “You’re that big vigilante.”
“Not on purpose, I assure you. That’s why we’re here, to become professionals!” Max said with a laugh. Armstrong just shook his head.
“Alright. Get the goons outta here, we need to talk.” he said, pointing a thumb at the armored men.
“You heard the detective. If this man wanted a fight you wouldn’t do much anyway. Get out.” Harrison said. They sighed with relief and filed out as quickly as they could. “Okay. I can tell you for a fact this room’s clean. Let’s take it from the top, shall we? You know who in the company’s after the kid?”
“Michael Knightsbridge. I saw him from the tube I was stuck in enough. He looks taller in the ads.” Jason said sullenly. Harrison put his head in his hand while Armstrong groaned.
“I take it that’s a problem?” Max asked.
“Only if you consider one of the richest and well-connected men on the planet after you a problem. Don’t you know who he is?” the detective asked.
“I’m, ahh, new here.”
“Michael Knightsbridge, the CEO of MetaTech Industries, a corporation that brings in roughly 2.9 trillion annually. MetaTech owns or runs 63 percent of Silver City. And it’s an open secret that Knightsbridge is dirtier than the earth’s crust.” Harrison grumbled.
“It’s true. Every single case brought against him and his company has come out either in his favor, or dismissed. There’s never been one single successful suit against him or the company daddy gave him, not even a littering fine.” Armstrong explained.
“I see.” Max said.
“Well I don’t. Wanna tell me what you’re doing here, ‘Percy?’ I don’t believe you for a second that you’re trying to join the caped club. By the way, pick a better false name next time, Scarlett Pimpernel was the first thing that popped up.” Armstrong said. Max just smiled placidly.
“What’s a Scarlett Pimpernel?” Jason asked.
“Roughly, as Hercules begat Gladiator, and Gladiator begat Superman, the Scarlett Pimpernel inspired Zorro, which inspired Batman.” Max answered, then turned to Armstrong. “You can call me Max. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around too much. Believe me when I say it’s better for everyone that my real name not be widely known. I hope that’s not going to be a problem?” he asked Vivian and Harrison.
“Not at all! We will require biogenetic samples to prove identity, but several of our employees prefer to keep mum about public personas. Additionally, should you prefer to disclose your identity, every worker is bound by a very severe NDA unless expressly permitted. It will be a little harder, but we can certainly build around your costumed persona.” Viv said.
“Don’t make him official yet!” Harrison barked.
“But sir, didn’t you say he’s got the highest score on the written and physical exams?” she said, far too innocently. “It’d be a shame if we let him get away.”
“We’ll talk later.” Harrison said darkly, then turned to Max. “I think a full explanation is best. Go over everything, from the top.”
“Capital idea! It started very soon after coming to Silver City. I was taking out the garbage in a restaurant three days ago…”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One question-filled explanation later, the situation had been appraised by everyone. Detective Armstrong slumped back in his chair, hand on his face.
“So we have substantial, positive proof that Knightsbrisdge is illegally making supers. Or at least developing a formula for them.” he said.
“Indeed! When is he going to be arrested?” Max asked.
“If only it were that simple. Remember that ‘never been convicted’ thing I said earlier? I’m afraid if we do that, he’ll just use his army of lawyers and contacts to get the whole thing thrown out. Meanwhile, he’ll have access to the kid’s whereabouts.” Armstrong said lifelessly.
“But we have solid evidence!” Max said, accidentally making a dent in the table putting his hand down. “Oops.”
“Evidence that will take time to process, including a trial. And he can get Jason declared unfit to take the stand, it’d be all too easy to paint him as unstable. Which I might be tempted to do too, if he couldn’t turn into Whiskers the Wonder Cat.” Harrison said, earning a glare from the boy. “And by that time, he’ll have him abducted. He’s got enough money to bribe, threaten, and hire whoever he needs to do it. And if his goons were willing to use RPGs out in the open, it sounds like he wants the kid bad. We already heard the incident two days ago was being resolved by the cops, we weren’t butting in.”
“Knew it.” Jason said gloomily. Only Max was close enough to hear him mutter “-have to do it myself.” Shaking his head, he spoke up. “So…what happens now?”
“That is the million-dollar question, isn’t it.” Armstrong said, leaning back and lighting a cigarette.
“This building is a non-smoking zone, detective.” Vivian said, suddenly plucking it from his lips before he could breath in. She pinched the tip out, and Armstrong grimaced.
“Right. Well, I don’t know about you, but the plan the big guy cooked up isn’t half-bad for now. Train with Intrepid and build your rep as heroes while gathering evidence. It’s not ideal, but it’ll be easier than convincing Chief Carson that this was a dead-end. Right?” he asked Harrison.
“We can fudge a few details for the paperwork. I wouldn’t even consider this normally, but this’s a chance to bring Knightsbrisdge down. We’ll either be heroes all, or dead.” Harrison shrugged. “Even so, the kid’s a minor. He'll have all the other restrictions minors with powers have, including only part-time, and a GPA requirement. Along with mandatory psychological councilling.” he explained.
“What!?” Jason exploded, standing up.
“What? You’re twelve. I don’t care how hard your life’s been, or what kinda powers you have. Minors need stability and socialization, as well as an education. We’re not gonna employ a dumbass. You are a dumbass if you think we’re not gonna try to treat the trauma you’ve been through. If we don’t, you’re gonna get people killed. We require checkups with all our heroes, you’re no different. Got it?” Jason looked ready to argue, but Max put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. Jason hissed through his teeth, but held his tongue.
“Got it.” he said sullenly.
“Wonderful! And ah, those vigilantism charges?” Max asked. Armstrong waved his hand dismissively.
“Now we know the full story, it isn’t gonna be a problem. Especially now you’re employed by a heroics office.Just...just keep your nose clean, ok? Let the cops do the heavy lifting on the investigation side.” he said.
“Excellent! I look forward to working with you, detective!” Max said enthusiastically, grabbing Armstrong’s hand in his giant one and shaking vigorously.
“I...ah...but…” the detective sputtered, his brain catching up that he’d just inadvertently volunteered to be around these lunatics during the investigation.
“See? We can all get along if we talk it out!” Vivian chirped, earning her a glare from Harrison and Armstrong, and a thumbs-up from Max. “Now gentlemen, if you’d please follow me! We have to take your measurements and get preferences and requirements for costumes.”
“All right!” Max led a still-scowling Jason away, leaving just the detective and Harrison in the room.
“I can’t go to my superiors with this. Chief Carson’d practically tie a bow to the boy and put him on a silver platter.” Armstrong said. Harrison sighed.
“Yup.”
“Which means all of this is technically illegal. But if we don’t, Knightsbridge gets his hands on the kid, to do who knows what.”
“Yup.”
“And I doubt Intrepid’s lawyers are good enough to fight MetaTech’s.”
“Oh yup. Just gonna set ‘em up like normal, no big deal except for the false names. It won’t last, not for long. We have to get enough dirt on Knightsbridge before he figures out the kid hero who can shapeshift is the same one he lost.” Harrison deadpanned.
There was a long stretch of silence between them, just staring into space and contemplating the task ahead.
“We’re doomed, aren’t we.” Armstrong said. Harrison pulled out a flask.
“Yup.”