Sidekicked (28 page)

The old gunslinger holds his empty mug out in front of him, as if he's waiting on it to fill itself. “Code says that all life is precious. That everyone deserves a chance at redemption. The Titan believed it, as much as any of us. But it ain't always that easy. You can't always pull your punches, especially when you punch like him. I tried to tell him it wasn't his fault. That there is good and there is bad and there's no in-between, and that as soon as you start thinkin' there is, that's when you need to hang up the cape. But I guess that was the wrong thing to say.

“Two or three weeks later, he stepped down as head of the Legion. Within the year he was pretty much done. I tried to take him out on patrol, easy stuff. Armed robbery. Kidnapping. Couple of car thieves. But I could see his heart just wasn't in it. Somethin' snapped that day, though maybe it was splintered already.”

Red leans back in his chair, staring into his cup as if wishing it full again.

“It's funny,” he says. “You look at the Dealer, and all you see is a villain in a mask. But the Titan saw something else. Something worth saving. He tried. Tried to hold on. But he ended up squeezin' too tight.

“And he ain't never been the same since.”

W
hen Red finishes, I stand up from the table, pushing my chair back.

“I need to talk to him.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Red says. “Weren't you listening? Six years and he hasn't gotten over it. Six years, and he hasn't saved a single soul, yours included.”

“Mine especially,” I say. “Which is exactly why I need to talk to him.”

Red—Kid Caliber—looks like he's going to protest further, then gives up with a shake of his head. “He hasn't had a drink in three days . . . just so you know,” he warns.

I look over at Jenna. “Do you want me to come?” she asks. I can see in her eyes she thinks maybe he's dangerous still. She hasn't seen him. She doesn't know.

No, I tell her, giving her hand a squeeze. “Remember, I'm always only in danger whenever the Titan's
not
around.”

I leave her standing by the window and Red sitting at the table and walk down the hall. I stand at the back bedroom door and listen. His breathing is regular. So is his heartbeat. I figure he's still asleep and decide just to peek in, but when I open the door, I see him sitting on the edge of the bed, arms on his knees, staring at a mirror on the dresser in front of him. He doesn't bother to turn and look at me, but from where I am, I can see most of his face in the mirror anyway.

He looks better than the last time. He's wearing a new shirt and new pants, at least. He must have showered since I saw him last. He's not wearing his sunglasses, and I realize it's the first time I've ever seen the man's eyes. They are light gray, a kind of milky hue, and they make him look inhuman, almost. They don't look my way, just keep staring blankly into the mirror.

I clear my throat. The Titan still doesn't move. I take a few steps so that I'm standing near the corner of the bed, only three feet away. I can count the scars on his face. I forgot there were so many.

“I know what happened,” I say.

He still doesn't budge. Not even the slightest twitch. As if he's frozen in place. Like in a Mr. Masters minute. I move closer and take a seat on the corner of the bed, careful not to touch him.

“It's the same with me sometimes,” I say. “I see things. And hear things. From miles away. I know they're coming, and it pisses me off because I know I can't do anything about them.”

The Titan's hands are folded in his lap. So large. I think about every thug, minion, and villain he's captured with those hands. Think about them wrapped around the Jack of Hearts, crushing the life out of her. Think about his hand holding my own outside the bowling alley, squeezing just tight enough. He tried to warn me, even then. But I wouldn't listen.

“You can't save everybody,” I continue. “As much as you'd like to. It's just not possible. I know that. But that doesn't mean you stop trying. The city is in danger. You're in danger. The Code says I'm supposed to stand beside you. To follow you. But I can't stand by you if you won't get up.”

I stand back up and look at him. Not at the reflection, but at the man himself.

“You told me to go save myself for a change. Now I'm asking you to do the same.”

That's it. That's the big speech.

I stand there. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. Waiting. Breathless. This is the moment in the movies where the music swells. The camera pans to the feet, starting to twitch. Maybe the hero clenches those giant fingers of his into a fist. The camera zooms in on a narrowing of the eyes, the look of determination surfacing as he rises up at last to the crescendo of trumpets blaring.

But there's nothing.

The Titan doesn't move.

And all of a sudden I want to scream at him. To get behind him and kick him off the bed. To grab his face and force him to look at me, to apologize, to admit that anything he might have done in the past doesn't compare to what he's doing now by abandoning his friends, his city, his sidekick, his Code. But I don't.

Because I just can't make myelf believe anymore.

“Drew?”

I turn and see Jenna standing in the doorway. I don't know how long she's been watching.

“Let's go,” I say.

Jenna puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me out, but I can sense her own muscles tense as she looks back into the room at George Raymond Washington Weiss.

“Hardly worth it,” she says, then turns and follows me through the hall.

Red is waiting for us with the front door open, eager, it seems, to usher us out.

“Hate to say I told you so,” he says. “I mean, really. I would have liked it to have gone the other way.”

“You could leave, you know,” I say. “Get away. Take him with you. It's too dangerous here. The Dealer is still out there, and he's taking revenge on anyone who has ever worn a cape. He won't have forgotten. He will find you eventually.”

“Son,” Red says, “I once stared down a mechanical bull that had fifty-caliber machine guns for horns and hand grenades for poop. I ain't afraid of the Dealer or his Jacks. Besides, I've managed to say hidden this long, so unless one of you decides to break the Code and start spilling secrets, I'm guessin' I can hold out here a little while longer.”

Red holds out his hand, and I take it. It's a lot smaller than the Titan's, but the grip is still firm. His other hand holds an envelope. “This is what I wanted to give you,” he says, holding it out to me.

I already know what it is. I can trace the shape through the paper. It's the Titan's ring. The one he's supposed to use to track me down. The one he's supposed to use to save me. The one Red used to contact me, to bring me here, only so that he could push me away.

“He says to give it to someone who deserves it.”

I steal a look at Jenna. I can't help it. It's an unconscious move. But she doesn't notice. She's not looking at me. She's looking over her shoulder and down the hall.

“You were never here,” Red says, eyeing us both.” Either of you.”

“I understand,” I say, taking Jenna's hand and pulling her after me.

Red stands in the doorway, watching us go down the stairs. Then I hear him lock the door.

The bus ride back is quiet. I sit on the inside, staring out the window. Jenna sits noticeably apart from me, studying the back of the seat in front of us. Neither of us knows what to say, I guess. I keep one hand in my pocket, playing with the Titan's ring, turning it over and over in my hand. It has our names engraved on the inside, Titan and Sensationalist, one beside the other.

“You don't need him,” Jenna tells me again, though this time I really can't argue with her. “Nobody does.” I drop the ring into my pocket.

When the bus drops Jenna off at her house, she puts her arms around me and tells me not to worry. “It will all be over soon,” she says. “Then everything will be better, I promise.”

I ask her how she can be so sure, given everything that's happened. “He was the best of them,” I tell her.

“Not anymore,” she says.

Then she squeezes me again, and I can smell the lilac from her shampoo underneath the haze of the body spray, and trace the lightning-bolt part of her hair, and feel the heave of her chest against mine, and I squeeze back as hard as I can, afraid she might let go.

S
he's right, of course.

That night, the Fox strikes a major blow to the Dealer, emptying his hand in one fell swoop.

I find out about it the same way everyone else does—well after the fact. Mike calls me at midnight and asks if I'm watching the news, that he can't believe what he's seeing. I sneak downstairs and turn the TV on, turning it down so low that only I can hear. I find a place on the couch, and Mike and I watch together. At first all I can see is fire. Then from the smoke and ash, I see her emerge, like the phoenix. The reporter is practically shouting to be heard above the sounds of sirens and the helicopters.

“We're coming at you live from this abandoned boathouse on the lake, and you can see it's absolute chaos. Some fishermen who had been on the water after dark said they heard several explosions and called 911. We arrived just in time to see the whole place go up in flames and our city's savior emerge,” the reporter says.

The Fox stands before the camera: flaming red hair, tight white bodysuit, samurai sword slung across her back. She has dragged two bodies out of the burning building, both limp, unconscious, dressed in black suits ripped to shreds. One of the bodies is average size, but the other is enormous, probably the biggest catch anyone at the pier has ever seen. She pulls the two Jacks out of the smoke and drops them at the feet of the authorities, who take several steps back instinctively.

The camera zooms in on the Fox, the Jacks of Spades and Clubs crumpled at her feet. She is alone.

Mike gushes. “Just look at her, man. She is so hot. I wish I could have been there—you know, not to do anything, of course, just to watch. Do you think she did that thing where she claps her hands together and creates a sonic boom? They must not have even seen her coming. I mean, did you see them? Those guys were out cold. And she took 'em down solo. There's no way the Rocket could have done that.”

“I wonder how she even knew where to find them,” I say. It wasn't like the night of the party. There was no mayor to dangle as bait. Was it just an old-fashioned throwdown? Did the Fox leave them a note somewhere—Meet me behind playground after school? Did she somehow set them up?

“Who cares?” Mike says. “Don't you get it? That's all three Jacks. It's just the Dealer and the Fox now, mano a foxo.”

I tell him “fox” in Spanish is
zorro
. Which is pretty cool, given the sword and all.

“Seriously? That is so awesome. I can't even imagine what Jenna must be thinking right now. To have H.E.R.O. shut down the very same day that her Super beats the bad guys. That really sucks.”

Jenna.

“Right. Listen, I'll call you back,” I whisper.

“What?”

“You just keep drooling. I'll call you later.”

I somehow manage to get off the phone with Mike and immediately call Jenna, but she doesn't pick up, so I text her instead. On the news, the Fox stares into the camera. “I'm coming for you, Dealer,” she purrs, which from anyone else would have been cheesy, but coming from the Fox it gives me chills. She leaps over the reporters who are desperately trying to interview her and the cops who are trying to question her and the groupies who are trying to fawn over her and disappears into the shadow of night.

“There you have it,” the reporter says, visibly shivering despite the fire raging behind her. “The city's true champion. Triumphant once again. And a firm message to the Dealer—that wherever you are, whatever you're up to . . . the Fox is on the prowl.”

My phone rings and I answer it instantly, but it's just Mike again.

“She did it. That thing with her eyes? Did you see it? Just then? I swear they change colors. It's wicked. God, what I wouldn't give to be her sidekick. Do you think she'd let me hold her sword?”

“You'd probably just cut your other arm off,” I say. The camera zooms in on the bodies of the two Jacks. The same guys who took out Cryos and Hotshot. And yet she somehow managed to take them both on at once.

“She makes it look so easy,” Mike marvels.

I can't argue with him. It's almost as if she was waiting until this very moment to make her move, waiting until she was practically the only one left who could stop them, to stop them.

“Don't you think—” I start to say, but before I can finish the thought, my phone buzzes. “Mike, I gotta go. See you tomorrow, 'kay?” I hang up before he can protest.

“Hey,” Jenna says. “You called?” She sounds distracted.

“Hey,” I say. “I didn't know if you'd be home. I thought maybe you'd be, you know . . .”

“Out?” she says.

“Busy,” I say.

On the television, the fire trucks have arrived and have unleashed three hoses on the hollowed-out remains of the building. The unconscious villains have been strapped down and loaded into bulletproof vans, surrounded by a dozen armed officers.

“I just thought, when you didn't answer—”

“H.E.R.O.'s suspended,” she says curtly. “We aren't sidekicks anymore. You were there. Remember?”

“I know, but I thought . . .”

“That the Fox would make an exception? That things were different between us? I'm not a Super, Drew, any more than you are.”