Ch. 10...
The house is empty; he misses his parents teasing each other in the kitchen, he even misses his brothers picking him up and calling him Baby-Bells.
A run would help clear his mind. He doesn’t bother putting on a coat, just throws himself out into the cold. His breath is visible as he takes his usual route through the neighborhood, then veers off to the right, and then keeps going. And going. And going. He runs past warning signs and abandoned remnants of old buildings, following the barely there trail.
Bells keeps running. He can’t get the images out of his head: Emma kissing Carlos, Jess and Abby giving each other fond glances. Everybody has someone. He waits for that moment when his head clears and he can run mindlessly, but it doesn’t happen.
By the time Bells looks up he’s somewhere in the canyons, in the opposite direction from Abby’s home. He can see Andover sparkling in the distance. He sits, catches his breath, and flicks through his messages and call history. He pauses on the image of his father and before he knows it he’s activated the call function.
The call rings and rings. “Hello—”
“Dad,” Bells says, choking up.
“You’ve reached Nicholas Broussard, owner of Broussard Family Farms and also Andover’s very own award-winning restaurant, Home Away from Home. I’m unavailable right now but our jambalaya special is available, now for only eight credits! Visit us at 44 Main Street for a little taste of home.”
“I miss you,” Bells says to his dad’s recorded face. “You and Ma. I hope you guys are doing well, and I know you said not to call, so I don’t know when you’ll receive this message—”
The DED blips.
“Bells?”
“Dad!” Just seeing his face again makes Bells feel better, safer.
“Hey, son. What’s going on? Do you need me to help you with your T-shots?”
Bells sniffs. “No, I’ve been doing it myself. I—” He stumbles on his words. If he talks about everything he’s feeling he might break down and cry. “I just missed you. How are you guys doing? Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you that, but we’re safe. We’ve been doing lots of good work; there were a lot of people affected by Ca—er, Cindy’s experiments.”
Orion? Is she still kidnapping meta-humans to experiment on? “Did you guys see her?”
“No, we keep losing her. But we have put the word out and we’re getting everyone to safety.” Nick gives him a warm smile. “Don’t worry about us. Genevieve’s got a good group of people here, and everyone’s been very welcoming. And some good news! Councilmember Robledo has been great about stopping Kingston’s produce bill.”
“That’s good,” Bells says. “One step at a time.” It seems small, especially knowing what needs to change. He remembers with a shudder how Kingston encouraged him when he was in the League and the threat the politician made when Bells refused to cooperate.
“What about you?” His dad turns the question back to him, patient and easy, as if he knew Bells wasn’t ready to lead with it.
Bells’ voice quavers. It tumbles out of him, first in bits and pieces, then every feeling he’s kept bottled up rushes forward: his loneliness, his aching worry, his guilt about focusing on his feelings because they’ve got bigger things to do.
“Hey,” Nick says. “You’re going to be fine. All of this? It is important. You are important. And your friends haven’t forgotten you.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I love you, okay? I gotta go, but remember that, and your friends love you too.”
He says goodbye, feeling a bit better. He stands up and brushes dirt off himself. Bells looks at the mountains and turns around. He can retrace his steps. It’ll be a long run back, but he can do it.
His DED chirps again.
From: Jess 7:39 pm
hey, can you come over to my house?
To: Jess 7:39pm
ARE YOU OKAY
From: Jess 7:40pm
yeah, i’m good. just wanted to hang out with you. you seemed really down at dinner <3 <3 <3
Bells types out a YES, OKAY, and sends it with a smile.
Jess welcomes him into the Trans’ home. “Hey, I’ve got pizza, your favorite, with three cheeses!”
“Awesome,” Bells says.
“Hey, this is for you!” Brendan offers Bells a box of chocolates and gives him a shy smile, then runs away.
“Thanks!” Bells calls after him as Brendan disappears into his room.
Jess laughs and gestures for him to follow her downstairs.
Abby, already halfway through a slice, waves at him from the couch. She pushes a plate with three slices at Bells, who promptly digs in.
Jess flops on the floor as her MonRobot buzzes around her, cheeping at Bells. Abby’s custom MonRobots—Jacks and Jills—whir around on the carpet.
“Is Chả trying to vacuum my hair?” Jess asks tonelessly.
The little round robot is, indeed, shuffling over to Jess and making its whirr whirr noise. Bells gently picks it up and turns it around, and Chả meeps at him, then makes a surprised beep when Jills bumps into him.
“Do they know they’re playing tag?” Bells asks, amused.
“I’m not sure,” Abby says. “They know they’re playing a game. At least they’re entertained.” She waves her pizza slice at Bells. “Does your family have a MonRobot?”
Bells nods. “Yeah, but the house cleaning model is incredibly old, a 2116 model. We keep our newer ones at the restaurant.”
“Aw, that wasn’t a good year,” Abby says. “A lot of the tech that year was pretty weird. But it still works, right?”
“Of course,” Bells says. “I don’t think it’s as smart as these, though.”
Chả is zooming around in a circle.
“Smart,” Jess repeats, laughing.
Bells practically inhales the three slices on his plate; he didn’t realize he was so hungry. Jess and Abby draw him into conversation about school, about his brothers, the restaurant. It’s fun, even if a little different, and he knows they, too, can feel the gaps in the conversation where Emma would have fit in seamlessly.
He pushes his empty plate away, rolls over on the floor, and listens to the MonRobots beeping at each other. He opens one eye; they’re fighting over vacuuming up a piece of cheese.
“So, uh, do you wanna talk about it?” Jess asks. “It’s okay if you don’t. I mean, I like Carlos, but…”
“He’s great,” Bells says listlessly.
“I thought you already told her; or were going to really soon,” Jess says quietly.
“You know, it’s a lot harder than it sounds!” Bells protests. “I couldn’t just… and now I definitely can’t—”
Abby chuckles. “Why not?”
“It isn’t funny,” Bells says. “It’s not that easy! Just to tell someone how you feel about them! It’s not the same… You and Jess had it so easy; she just up and asked you out.”
Abby throws her head back and laughs. “Really? That’s what she said? Okay, she did try to; it was adorable.”
“Hey!” Jess makes a face.
Abby gives her a quick kiss. “But I’m pretty sure I’d been dropping hints forever before that, and she kind of… trailed off during the asking, so I’m not sure if that counts.”
“Look, I don’t think it would be right for me to tell Emma how I feel now. She’s very happy with Carlos. I can’t just tell her I love her. It would put her in a terrible position.” Bells groans. “If you were me? What would you do?”
“I don’t think I would have let it get to this point,” Abby says. “When I’m interested in someone, I let them know.”
“I just want to stop feeling like this.”
“Can you write it down?” Jess asks.
Bells sits up. “What?”
“Write her a message. Type it up, save it, don’t send it. Just… get it out so those feelings aren’t rattling around inside of you anymore.”
Abby nods. “Jess writes all the time. She puts down feelings and stuff in journals. When I was struggling with losing my powers, writing down my thoughts helped a lot.”
“Are you gonna be okay?” Jess asks.
“Look, as long as she’s happy,” Bells says.
“But you’re not,” she says quietly.
“I will be. Look, it’ll take me some time to get over it. My feelings aren’t her problem, and I’m not going to make them her problem. She likes Carlos? Great. She and Carlos are happy together? Great. It is a good idea, though. I appreciate the help.”
Jess draws him into a hug. She sniffles, as if she’s been holding back tears.
Bells doesn’t cry. He’s had a long time to think about it.
When Bells gets home, he tears a piece of paper from his sketchbook. Emma bought this one for him. She never thought his art was just a hobby; she knew it was something he truly loved to do. And she understood why he didn’t care much for drawing on a lightscreen, that he enjoys the feel of pens or colored pencils in his hand and the sound they make scraping across his paper.
Dear Emma…
She’s never going to see this, right? He can say anything, everything he’s always wanted to say.
Dear Emma,
I love you. I think I’ve loved you since we were five…
* * *
On Wednesday night Bells leaves home, already late for the Sidekick Squad meeting; it seems like the first time he’s seen Emma this week. He does feel better, but he’s still nervous about seeing her. He takes his motorcycle out and zips around town. Abby didn’t just take out the tracking system, she completely re-engineered the bike. Bells careens around turns, enjoying the speed and how smoothly the motorcycle corners, and finally gets to Abby’s just around sunset.
“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late—” Bells starts, and then his heart skips.
Emma is sitting on the couch, clutching something to her chest, sighing at everyone.
“It was written on paper, like out of a romance movie,” she says.
There’s no way she could have found his letter, no way she could have seen it. He fumbles, reaches for his sketchbook in his bag and, yes, it’s still there, along with some loose pieces of paper. He glances inside. The letter is still there.
The paper Emma’s holding is heavy stock, and it’s definitely not recycled either. The paper smells like that musky cologne his dad wears sometimes, but as though his dad poured the entire bottle of it over his head. It’s making Bells’ nose prickle.
“Oooh, that’s sweet,” Jess says, reaching for the letter. She waggles her eyebrows at Bells. As she scans the letter, her expression shows confusion.
Emma smiles. “Go on, read it! What do you think?” For a moment, it’s as though they’re all back in middle school, giggling about their crushes on superheroes.
Abby gives Bells an apologetic look.
Jess coughs. “Dear Emma,” she reads.
Dear Emma,
I love you. I love the way your hair curls, I love your smile, how sweet you are. You are everything to me.
Yours, Carlos
Emma glances at it once more, and then at the three of them.
“He loves you,” Jess says. “Aww,” she croons, but it sounds forced.
Emma doesn’t pick up on that, though, re-reading the letter. “I know.” She blinks, tilting her head. “He is cute, isn’t he?”
“Yes. Very cute. Handwriting the letter was a nice touch,” Bells says, seething.
“Are you… are you going to write back? Tell him how you feel?” Jess hands the letter back to Emma.
“I should,” Emma says. She lies back down, frowning. “He’s a good boyfriend. This was a lot less complicated before there were feelings involved,” she says, getting into a comfortable position with her head in Bells’ lap and her feet propped up on Jess’ legs.
Bells wants to curl his hands in her hair and stroke her comfortingly, but he doesn’t. “I thought that was the point of dating,” he says.
“He hasn’t tired of me yet,” Emma says softly. “It’s been like, three weeks. And then he writes this letter and he loves me?”
“Abby told me she loved me pretty early on,” Jess points out. “I don’t think it was quite three weeks.”
“You guys thought you were gonna die in the desert. I think that’s different,” Bells says.
“Is this normal?” Emma asks. “I know I say ‘I love you guys’ to you two all the time, but it’s supposed to feel different, right? With people you’re attracted to? When you’re dating?”
Jess nods. “Well, everyone is different, but yeah, if you like someone and wanna hang out with them—”
“Like friends.” Emma sighs. “I don’t know, maybe that’s why it’s never worked with anyone. I mean, I couldn’t make it work with Will or Kyle or Damon or Scott or Denise—”
“Wait, you dated Denise?” Jess looks up in surprise. “Denise Ho?”
“Yeah, went to the movies with her once in sophomore year,” Emma chuckles at Jess’ stunned look. “What?” Emma pokes Jess in the stomach. “I was trying to figure out if I was attracted to girls!”
Jess raises her eyebrows. “And?”
“Well, I would have told you, wouldn’t I?” Emma shrugs. “Maybe. I haven’t entirely ruled it out. But definitely not Denise. I was bored out of my skull.”
“That’s what you said about everyone, though,” Bells says.
“Denise was especially boring.” Emma rolls her eyes.
Bells and Jess share a glance. He starts over. “I mean, whenever you date someone, you go out once or twice or maybe three times—”
“Like Kyle—” Jess jumps in.
Bells nods. Kyle Duan was a great example. “He was cool.” It was a strange two weeks, and Bells thought they would have an addition to their group. Kyle adored Emma, ate lunch with them a few times, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know Bells and Jess.
“I liked Kyle!” Jess grins.
“I thought I did,” Emma says. “But I guess not. I—”
“Lost interest,” Jess and Bells chime in.
“Pay attention.” Emma flicks Bells in the nose as he’s sprawled upside down on the couch, listening to them go round and round about what to do next. “Do you even know what we’re working on?”
“Find the Resistance, decode the thing, get the news leaks to stay up long enough to matter, save the world,” Bells says, deadpan.
“It’s not that simple,” Abby says. “Everything we’ve done—trying the regular news outlets, blogs, even the conspiracy theorist forums—any mention of Captain Orion that’s different from the official story disappears.” She clenches and unclenches her fist. “What we need is a simultaneous nationwide broadcast that can’t be shut down, and we need my dad for that because I can’t— I’m not—” Abby’s voice wobbles.
Jess squeezes her hand. “It’s going to be okay. Let’s focus on figuring out what this says.”
Jess got a message from her parents today, a seemingly random string of numbers. Bells can’t make sense of it; apparently they made several attempts to crack the code before he got there and they got distracted by Emma’s letter. Even Brendan has given up, scurrying off to work on another project.
Bells takes another look at the message. It’s nothing at all like the coded messages Brendan showed them from the conspiracy forums and the conversations of people of interest. This just looks like a string of numbers. “Are you sure we’re going about this in the right way?”
Abby shrugs. “I mean, there are many ways you can go from letters to numbers and back, not to mention all the languages in the world. We’ve barely started.”
Jess looks up from the message. “How are we doing on finding the Resistance? Hey! Bren-Bren!”
Brendan huffs into the room with several large boxes. “Sometimes I wish I had Mom’s superstrength,” he mutters. “A little help?”
Bells gets up, grabs the other end of the box, and helps Brendan bring it to the table. “What is all this? Books?”
Brendan snorts. “These are logs, printed out on all the recycled paper I could find. And I had to go out and get more because there are hundreds of pages of this stuff.” He flips open the lid of the box and lifts out stacks and stacks of paper with tiny, almost unreadable lines of code. It looks like gibberish to Bells.
“So, remember T1-2904?” Brendan points at a line of what must be encrypted chat. “They invited ST-1LE3 to this other network three months ago. Before that, their conversation on this forum,” Brendan gestures at a popular forum devoted to current broadcast shows, “was strictly about these two shows, getting to know each other, jokes, that sort of thing, but three months ago ST-1LE3 started wondering if the Collective was keeping something from them.”
“Okay…” Emma picks up a sheet of paper.
“And they weren’t flirting with each other,” Brendan says, triumphantly. “Okay, they were, but that’s beside the point. We now have this. It’s a new forum that T1-2904 invited ST-1LE3 to, but everything is encrypted. There are at least fifteen active members in our region alone.” Brendan bounces. “These people talk to each other about meetings and locations and they’ve pinged at least five of the keywords I was looking for, but they’re careful, even on their own forum. These are instructions for ST-1LE3 to meet them for the first time.”
Jess blinks. “Okay, these are just characters and numbers… why did you print these out? Don’t you have a program to decode this?”
Brendan rolls his eyes. “Yes. But this was sent as an archaic twenty-first century file type that can’t be scanned as text. It’s an image only. It’s gonna take all of us to crack this.” He rolls his shoulders and glares at all of them. “Here’s what you need to do…”
Bells only half-listens to the instructions; the plan seems straightforward: manually scan the text for any of the special characters Brendan has noted and jot those down for a second encryption.
Jess and Abby get to work, dutifully scratching with their pencils.
It looks as if it’s going to be a long night. Bells sighs, trying one more time to make the numbers make sense, when Jess walks into the room, biting her lip. She glances at Bells, then at Emma, and the floor; anywhere but at Abby.
“So, I found your dad,” she says quietly.
“I know you know which direction he’s in,” Abby says. “How many times do I have to tell you; until we know for certain how long it would take to get there, it’s not worth going in that direction?”
“No, I mean, I know exactly where he is,” Jess says, finally looking up and meeting Abby’s eyes. She drops her DED onto the projector, and it syncs automatically; a holo springs to flickering life: a crowd in New Bright City surrounding a podium. The mayor of New Bright City is frozen mid-clap. “This was broadcast an hour ago.”
“I don’t understand,” Abby says.
Jess flicks the projection, and it begins to play. The crowd roars applause, and the mayor holds her hands up and beams at the audience.
“I’m pleased to announce an innovative new program headed up by Monroe Industries, the nation’s leading tech company. This advancement in home assistance and security will revolutionize our world and make the North American Collective a safer place. Please welcome Phillip Monroe!”
Abby freezes, standing in front of the projection.
The holo is life-size; her dad stands in front of her with a steady smile.
“Thank you, Mayor Hodgeson. I am pleased to announce that, with the assistance of the energy bill just passed by the NAC, the new line of MonRobots is now available for purchase. And, any household with a MonRobot to trade in can have the new version at reduced cost.”
The audience applauds as a curtain parts behind Phillip, and a new MonRobot hovers onto the stage with a distinct electronic whir. It’s tall, almost the height of a small child, and capable looking, with a square head and a long, slanted body. A little arm protrudes from its side and waves at the audience while the video display behind it demonstrates how the MonRobot can be helpful with cooking, cleaning, childcare, and more.
The MonRobot says in a monotone, “Hello. I am your personal MonRobot. I am pleased to assist you in your household chores and activities.”
Abby’s jaw drops open, and she flicks at her DED. “I need to tell my mom. This can’t—this can’t be happening. He’s working with Stone?” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Of course, Mom isn’t answering because she doesn’t have access to the Net wherever she is.”
Emma scrunches up her face. “Who’s Stone?”
Bells replays the broadcast. He isn’t sure he likes the new design. All the previous MonRobots were round or ovoid. There are variations in size and function across the different MonRobot lines, but Bells likes the egg-shape.
He plays the broadcast again and concentrates on Phillip’s face. “Is it just me? He doesn’t look too happy announcing what is supposedly a huge breakthrough for his company.” Phillip Monroe looks so much older than in the holos in Abby’s home. His face has a sunken, haggard look, and there are bags under his eyes, almost like when Genevieve was…
“Tantalum!” Bells freezes the holo and enlarges the frame. “Look, just under his sleeves. Those? Those aren’t bracelets.”
Abby gasps. “I knew it. He would have contacted me and Mom the first minute he got the chance, but he can’t even use his powers.”
“Why are they keeping him?” Emma asks. “Didn’t you say Orion said they already had the plans for the new robots?”
“Yeah, but even if they had the plans, if my dad didn’t cooperate, they couldn’t build those things without our factory machines, and they didn’t know a thing about those.” Abby frowns at the new MonRobot design. “I’m not sure these are the ones we were worried about, though. Did the broadcast talk about new features?”
They watch it again. It’s just a bunch of fanfare over household chores.
Emma looks up from her DED; she’s on the Monroe Industries page on the Net. “They are more efficient than the current MonRobots: less time to charge, quicker cleaning, can do all different types of floors, can go up and down stairs easier. There are a few tweaks here and there, but it doesn’t look like anything to worry about.”
Bells glances at the square design of the new robots. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t worry about it.” He puts a hand on Abby’s shoulder. “I’m glad we know where he is. I mean, it opens up a huge set of new problems, but…”
“Thanks. I’m not sure what to think. It’s almost worse than knowing he’s being held captive in a dark cell. I can see him, but I can’t talk to him or…”
“Let’s focus on something else for now,” Emma says, pointing at the little round robot on Abby’s floor vacuuming itself into the corner. “I think we aren’t in danger from attacking robots anytime soon.”
They work quietly until Jess sighs and says, “This is going to take forever. What about the new MonRobots? Let’s go back to that, maybe there’s something we can learn about them, if they are a threat.”
“Well, the main production line is here in Andover,” Abby says, touching her chin thoughtfully. “If my dad really is making the prototypes available, he would have the plans in the Monroe Industries archive.” She leaves and comes back in a moment with a box labeled “ABBY’S LAB.” She rummages until she makes a triumphant noise and holds aloft a keycard with the Monroe Industries logo. “This still works. I should be able to walk right in and make a copy, but my mom made me promise not to set foot in that building again.”
Jess frowns. “But you told me that Stone knows…”
Emma lifts both her eyebrows. “Okay, might I remind you that the rest of us don’t automatically know everything that happens in Jess-and-Abby land and we don’t need to know everything, but can you fill us in on how Abby can get these plans?”
Jess and Abby share a glance, and Jess giggles.
Bells snorts. “Now you’ve got them thinking about each other, Em, great job.” He snaps his fingers. “Welcome back to reality where the rest of us live.”
“Right, right, Jess knows all this, but I technically… don’t exist. I mean, on paper I do, as Abby Jones, yeah, who exists just about as much as Barry Carmichael exists, right?” Abby points and grins at Bells.
“Okay, you’ve got a secret identity, but we all knew that, Miss I-Don’t-Want-To-Pick-A-Hero-Name-Yet,” Bells teases.
Abby’s face falls, and Bells instantly regrets his teasing. He guesses her reluctance to pick a name is mostly because her powers are gone.
She shrugs, deftly changing the subject. “I mean, the League knows that my mom and dad had a kid; they’ve known since I was born that I exist, but that’s all they know. They don’t know my name or what I look like.” Abby shrugs. “My parents wanted to hold all the cards for my future as a hero, you know.”
“Okay, but what’s stopping you from walking into Monroe Industries, other than your promise to your mom—” Emma starts off, scrunching her nose.
“How would she even know since she’s gone?” Bells says, rolling his eyes. He’s still frustrated that the adults just up and left to look for Abby’s dad without even asking their kids for help.
“Because Stone knows,” Jess says.
“Yeah, he was over for dinner once. My dad and he were pretty good friends until their differences about the purposes of the MonRobots,” Abby says sadly.
Emma’s mouth falls open and she gestures wildly. “Who? Is? Stone?”
“He’s on the board of directors at Monroe Industries,” Jess says. “Definitely in favor of militarizing the MonRobots when Phillip Monroe didn’t want to.” She looks at Abby, who doesn’t say anything but squeezes Jess’ hand. “He was the guy standing behind Abby’s dad during the speech.”
“Okay. So you can get into Monroe Industries as long as Stone doesn’t see you…” Bells says, thinking out loud. “Any other employees who could be a problem?”
“I pretty much worked on my own or with Jess, and Stone would check in with me from time to time to see Master Mischief’s progress,” Abby says. “I don’t think anyone else would have noticed that I’ve been gone for the last few months…” She scrunches up her face, clearly searching her memory for other employees who might have noticed her absence.
“So that’s easy,” Bells says. “You get in, get out, and, if you see Stone, run the other way.”
“Not so fast,” Brendan interrupts. “I need Abby here because she’s the only one of you who can code. I’m going to need her help writing the next program, and there are all these logs that need to be sorted manually…” Brendan gestures at the stacks of paper all over the table.
Bells stands up and squares his shoulders. “This looks like a job for Chameleon,” he says, winking at them while giving them his best heroic pose. Everyone laughs, but Emma’s eyes widen and she gives him an appreciative look, which fills Bells with confidence.
* * *
Monroe Industries is one of the tallest buildings downtown; it gleams silver against the skyline. As Abby, Bells walks right through the front doors, past the desk bots that scan his card and his face at the entrance.
“Welcome, Miss Jones,” the reception bot says evenly.
Bells tips his head at them; Abby’s red curls fall into his face. He walks quickly and finds the elevator as Abby instructed. She said her main computer in her old lab should have access to everything. Abby’s keycard beeps, granting him access to Abby’s locked lab floor. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust. He relaxes back into his own form and looks around. Machines hum behind the second door on the right exactly as Abby said, and beyond that is a messy office with a computer tower that has multiple dataports. The projector is still on, showing a desktop background with a close-up photo of a mecha-suit.
Bells hums, tossing a datachip into the air and catching it playfully, happy to be doing something, anything, to get away from being a fifth wheel; happy to be doing something that resembles hero work.
He plugs the datachip into the console. Abby’s automatic program scans for the plans. Bells watches the lines of code flicker on the display, and then the program closes. He plucks out the datachip and places it in his pocket. He was hoping for a little action, this was too easy. Maybe he can find some clues about Master Mischief’s whereabouts.
Bells pokes around the lab, but it’s so disorganized, he has no idea where to start. The only area that seems in order is a cabinet full of files that contain the history of all the Mischiefs’ exploits, stolen artifacts, successful pranks, and the like.
Bells throws up his hands and turns around. A map on the wall shows the research department, production floor, various offices… Ah, so that’s where Stone’s office is.
He shifts back into Abby’s form, gets in the elevator, and presses the button for the seventeenth floor. On the map it looked as though Stone’s office was at the end of this hallway. Two people walk past him, but no one gives him a second glance. A cold chill rushes through him when he reaches the last office. Abby said to get in and get the files and get out, but surely seeing what Stone is up to is worth just an extra moment.
Voices ring out against the background of people working, and, through the glass wall of Stone’s office, Bells can see the man standing, arms crossed, in front of his desk. He looks exactly like his photo on the company’s holopage: tired and balding and scowling.
Two people are in his office. One wears a long coat, sunglasses, and large-brimmed hat. It would be comical, how obvious this disguise is, except Bells’ instincts are telling him danger. The stance, the way their hands on their hips are just so… it’s a very distinct pose, but Bells can’t recall where he’s seen it. It’s one of those times when, if Bells had more than a second to think, he’d figure out who’s wearing the disguise. The woman in the crisp button-up suit seems really familiar. If she wasn’t also wearing sunglasses, Bells could definitely place her.
Stone’s voice is firm. “Look, Cindy, it’s a powerful proposition, but I can’t help you. Without the support of the League I’m afraid…” he trails off and catches a glimpse of Bells in the hallway, and his eyes widen. “Abby Jones? But I thought we…” Stone brings his DED to his face and speaks into it. “Security needed on floor seventeen. I thought we had this asset locked down already for levera—”
“I’m not done with you,” the overly disguised person grabs Stone’s shoulder and turns him around. Her hand curls in a gesture Bells has seen immortalized in comic books—Cindy is Captain Orion. She’s about to fry Stone with her lightning.
Heart pounding, Bells’ sets his DED to record and dashes forward, ready to pull Stone out of the way. But, when Orion flexes her wrist, nothing happens.
Stone laughs. “You really think you scare me?”
There’s no lightning, despite Orion’s gesture, and she scowls.
“You don’t think I’ve got a personal cache of tantalum ready in case any meta-human tries to—”
The second woman gasps, and stares right at Bells as he crosses the doorway.
Bells looks down and realizes that he’s himself again. There’s a painful blow to the back of his head, and everything goes dark.