Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (21 page)

He pretended he didn’t hear her
question and began to nervously play with a Freedom Squad fastfood kid’s meal
toy.  “….Never did a single thing that helped anyone.” 

“But they wouldn’t give him a
chance to!  They shut him out!”  She paused.  “…Or
would have
if he had
actually applied for membership there like my essay suggested.  What other
careers are really open to a man of his power? 
None
.  They would have
left him no other choice but costumed crime.  He made a few mistakes, but they
offered him no chance at redemption.  No opportunity to try to make it right. 
The only door open to him was evil.”

Wyatt nodded, obviously trying hard
not to laugh.  “That poor man.  Hell, Gandhi would have butchered those people
too.  It was the only logical option.  Imagine…the NERVE of those people trying
to label a super-powered murderer as a ‘super-villain’.”  He shook his head sadly. 
“Those intolerant bastards.  Now I’m
glad
they’re dead.”

She scowled.  “Sarcasm isn’t going
to help you.  You
know
I’m right.” 

He gave another sharp laugh of
genuine amusement.  “I know nothing of the sort, but I love seeing the way your
crazy little head works.  I mean, I look at you, and I think you’re going to be
all normal and stuff, because you’re obviously gorgeous and brilliant…but no.  Everything
out of your mouth is just so
delightfully
insane and naïve.”  He paused,
a smile still on his face.  He winked at her.  “…But I mean that in a
good
way.” 

She blinked at him, trying to
decide whether or not she should be offended.  That was
almost
a
compliment.  He
had
said she was pretty and smart…  And oh god, but that
wink was sexy…  And it was nice to see that he wasn’t on the verge of crying
about his brother anymore… 

It just wasn’t right to see a man
who had done so much for the world, so sad.  There should be statues
celebrating the man, and instead, all he got was a scrapbook filled his old clippings
she had collected on him over the years.  He deserved more than that.

Whether Wyatt was ready to admit it
or not, he lived under just as oppressive a label as Primeval did.  First Wyatt
was a hero, and he had apparently chaffed under that yoke.  Then the city had
labeled him a murderer and a traitor.  Now?  …Now, he was trying to escape into
his own self-imposed label of ‘villain’.  But she was beginning to see that he
wasn’t going to be able to escape his fate any more than Primeval had.  The city
would probably always see him as the fallen hero.  As a murderer.

The thought made her terrible
sad.      

He had once been a hero, lived in
the shining tower that was the Fortress of Liberty, but he had slipped, and it
was a long way down.  Now, the doors of heroism were as closed to him as they hypothetically
were to Primeval.  He was tired and jaded and had nowhere left to go.  And so
he had come here.  To evil.  Wyatt apparently didn’t see the comparison, but
she did.

She shifted closer to him on the
couch.  “You know I’m not going to let the ‘hot’ thing drop, right?  You
understand that I’m going to keep after you about it until the end of time
unless you tell me more?”

He laughed.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m
starting to realize that.  But as one of my brother’s letters recently said;
there are worse things in life than being forced to talk to a pretty girl.”  He
looked around the room, still smiling.  “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any
of that Fabricator cereal they used to make, would you?  That stuff was awesome
and I’d love to have a bowl again!”

A
boy was dying, and said to his mother:  "O Mother!  Do not mourn, just
pray to the gods that my life be prolonged."  She replied, "Alas!  My
son, which of the gods do you think will pity you? Is there one whom you have
not outraged by stealing from their very altars a part of the sacrifice offered
up to them?”  The moral of the story?  We must make friends in prosperity if we
would have their help in adversity.

Wyatt stared down at the path
before him.  Each choice was fraught with peril and invited certain death. 
This was certainly one of the most dangerous situations he had ever gotten
himself into, and he would truly need all of his skills to come out of this one
alive.  In fact, from the looks of it, the chances of his surviving at ALL were
quite slim.  He was a dead man, and everyone knew it. 

He reached a tentative hand forwards
and slowly moved his small pink game piece two spaces forward into the Quagmire
of Questions.

 “Can’t roll a two when you’re on
Liberty Lane, Wyatt.”  Harlot shook her head sadly.  “That
always
happens.”

He sighed and leaned back in his
chair.  “Yes, I see that, Harlot.  Thank you.”

He had been summoned down here
twenty minutes ago by a blaring alarm.  He had raced into the war room,
assuming that the world was coming to an end or something, but was shocked to
discover that no one was there.  It had taken him a few moments to find Harlot,
Cynic and Undercurrent in the TV room, enjoying what they called “Game Night.” 
Evidentially, they used the Volcano Crater Lair’s emergency alert siren as a
signal to everyone that the board games were starting. 

He had tried to leave again, but
Harlot had looked completely crushed, so he decided to stay because…well…he
didn’t know why really.  He didn’t feel like playing board games.  At all.  He
didn’t even
like
them since they were a waste of time.  But he found
himself playing nonetheless.  Harlot was a very hard person to say no to.  Her
lower lip would pout slightly and…well…it was one hell of an evil power.  If
she had made that face years ago, he would have been forced to help her commit
crime long before now.  It was impossible to resist.

He really didn’t understand this
place at all.  Didn’t they have jobs to do?  Duties to attend to?  Why were
they always around?  He wasn’t used to that idea.  In his experience,
co-workers didn’t ever spend time together, and CERTAINLY didn’t seek each other
out to play something as trivial as
board games
.

Cynic put his head back and cackled
with laughter at Wyatt’s game token’s predicament.  “Tough luck, hero!  HA!”

Wyatt scowled down at the Freedom
Squad board game.  Stupid game.  He didn’t even WANT to play.  This was
COMPELTELY unfair.  NOW he had to answer questions or something.

Harlot put down her diet cola and
pulled out a box of game cards, and looked down at one of them.  “Okay…an easy
one…”  She reviewed the card again.  “Secret origins; what is the name of
Captain Dauntless’ home planet?”

Wyatt stared at her for a long
moment.  Shit.  Where the hell was Roger from again?  Dammit.  “…Ummmm…”

Cynic’s mouth dropped open.  “Oh,
come on!  You have to know this one! 
Even *I* know this one!
”

Harlot gave Cynic a reproachful
glare.  “Shush!  Give him a chance!  Of COURSE he knows it.”

Goddammit! 
WHY DIDN’T HE KNOW
THIS!?!
 

“Umm…it’s like ‘Nitron’ or
something, right?”

Harlot blinked at him in pity, and
then slowly replaced the card back into the stack.  “…It’s ‘Supertron’, Wyatt. 
Everyone knows that.  He comes from the planet Supertron, in sector 9 of the
Zeta-Alpha 6 galaxy.”

Cynic shook his head in contempt at
him.  “You stupid fucking asshole.  Your asshole-yness is off the fucking scale,
man.”  He snorted.  “
Nitron
.  Moron.”  He rolled a two and moved his
small yellow Badger game piece three spaces forward.  “Yeah!  ‘Amazon Mountain.’ 
Time for some lovin’!”

Harlot picked up the die and rolled
a six.  She reached down and moved her small Fabricator figurine towards the
Fortress of Liberty. 

He frowned down at the board.  “Hey,
how come I don’t get to be me?”  He picked up his small pink token.  “Why do I
have to be
Seraphim?
”

She smiled in satisfaction as she
was awarded twelve hero points for passing the headquarters building.  “Because,
I’m the one who customized the Fabricator figure from the ‘Architect’s
Mini-Workshop Playset,’ and I didn’t go through all of that trouble just to
play
Seraphim
.”  She said the name like it was the stupidest possible
person she could ever be.  “This game didn’t actually
come
with the
Fabricator figure, and since I’m the one who bought the ‘you’ in a similar
scale and added it to the game, I should be the one who has the fun of…”  She
read a red rectangular card she was awarded and grinned.  “I just saved the
city from a meteor and get four MORE hero points!  HA!”  She pointed at them. 
“
For Freedom
, losers!”

Cynic scowled.  “You’re fucking
cheating.  You ALWAYS get that card.”

Stacy gave an excited squeal.  “Yay! 
My turn again!”  She rolled her die and moved her…Pickachu game token forward
five spaces.  “I’m in the Opposite Sector.  Darn.”  She started trying to speak
backwards.  “Nrut txen tuo m’I.”

Wyatt reached for the die and
rolled a two, still trying to get out of the Quagmire of Questioning.  Harlot
pulled out a new question card for him to answer.  “Okay…REALLY easy one now. 
Famous battles; what weapon did Fabricator use to defeat Chairman Panzer in the
invasion of ’98?”

Wyatt slowly closed his eyes,
trying to control his irritation over the seemingly random question.  “WHY
would I know that!?!  It was YEARS ago, and I was trying to keep from getting hit
with the depleted uranium tipped shells, being fired from his chest mounted
cannon at the time! 
How should I know!?!
  What kind of PSYCHO would
remember…”

Harlot reached for her game token
and moved it forward the two spaces he had rolled.  “It was a golf club.  You
hit a stone with it, and it lodged in his gun turret and blew it up when he
tried to fire at you.”  She smiled.  “You yelled;
FORE!
  It was so
epic!
” 
She nodded.  “Fistfuls of awesome.”

Wyatt paused trying to remember
that…Oh yeah.  He HAD done that, hadn’t he?  Damn.  That was really stupid. 
REALLY stupid.  Harlot seemed to find it hilarious, for some odd unknown reason,
though.  What kind of person actually liked those stupid hero fight puns? 
He
certainly didn’t, and she
claimed
that she didn’t either, but she still
seemed to find his old stale jokes amusing.  The girl
obviously
had
absolutely no taste, which was to be expected from an insane person.

She grinned at him, again.  “But tell
you what; how about you get a new question?”  She fished one out.  “Okay,
Beginner Level Super Powers question; What does Fabricator call his abilities?”

Easy.  He absently reached forward
to move his token, since he had no difficulty with THIS question. 

“Telekinetic object construction.”

She shook her head sadly, and
turned the card around so that he could read it.  “Sorry, Wyatt.  You call it;
Smithikinesis.  Cause you’re a weapons smith, see?”

His mouth fell open.  “I most
CERTAINLY do
NOT!
  I’ve never even HEARD that word before!  That card’s
lying!”

She shook her head again.  “Sorry. 
The cards don’t lie.  Says right here that’s what you call it.”

He pounded a fist down on the table,
causing all of the pieces to bounce.  “I think I know what I call my OWN
powers, and I’m telling you, the game is WRONG!”

His opponents snorted. 

Harlot rolled her eyes.  “My, we’re
awful touchy about being wrong, aren’t we?  There’s no shame in guessing wrong,
Wyatt.  Afterall, you’ve never played this game before, so it’s only natural
that you’re getting stuff wrong.  A lot.”

He crossed his arms over his chest
sulkily.  “I am NOT guessing wrong; that’s NOT what I call it.”  He glared at
the untruthful card.  “
Smithikinesis?
  What does that even
MEAN!?! 
That’s not a word.
”

Cynic took a break from pantomiming
sex acts between his Badger game piece and the Amazon statue representing their
sacred hilltop and glanced over at Harlot.  “Now we’re SURE that this moron is
the REAL Fabricator, right?  And not some weird clone or robot duplicate?”

Harlot rolled her eyes.  “YES,
Steven.  For the FIFTH time, I’m sure.”  She looked at Wyatt in concern.  “You
know…for being…YOU….you actually don’t really know a lot about your own life,
do you?  I mean, you’ve been missing REALLY easy questions about you all night
and….”  She glanced down at the space she landed on.  “Oh!  Oh!  Wildcard!”

Everyone around the table suddenly
looked very excited.  Harlot beamed and produced a stack of cards and began
dealing them out quickly.  Stacy and Cynic grabbed them eagerly, and looked
down the cards in wonder.  He picked up the cards he had been dealt; his brow furrowing
in utter confusion.  The three of clubs, a baseball card of a Red Sox player, a
business card for an accountant, a paint sample of a grayish color and what
appeared to be two tarot cards; The Hanged Man and Death.  What the hell?

“Wait…are these cards really all
from this game?  Because it looks like all you did was get a random bunch of
cards together and…”

Harlot beamed and placed down a
baseball card in triumph.  “Yes!  Mickey Mantle!  Beat that!”

Stacy frowned down at her cards and
pulled out two Pokemon cards and placed them down. “Sneasel and Mew.  Mantle’s
no match for that pair, Harl.  He’s toast.”

Harlot pouted as Stacy reached for
the cards.  Cynic laughed and put his hand out to stop her.  “Hold it right
there, honey.”  He slapped a Tarot card down on the table.  “*BAM*!  Have a
taste of
The Fool!”

Both of the women made an impressed
“oooooh!” sound.  Wyatt looked down at his cards.

“I don’t understand the rules of
this game.”

“Neither do we.”  Harlot laughed.  “So,
we made up our own.  The instructions want us to like roll die or something,
and this is so much more fun!”

He made a non-committal sound and
shuffled through his cards again trying to figure out some semblance of order
in this game.  He pulled out the Hanged Man.  “Can I play this one?”

Stacy grinned.  “No, you should
hang
onto the
Hanged
Man.”

They all chuckled at the pun in
unison.  Wyatt shook his head.  He really didn’t understand the rules of this
place at all.  “Whatever.”  He tossed the card onto the table and collected his
‘winnings.’  “Is this game almost done now?  Can we get onto REAL work?”

 “Such as?”  Harlot frowned in apparent
confusion.  “We’re not really doing anything today.”

He sighed.  “So, why wasn’t I
allowed to leave?  Why did you force me stay to here?”

She smiled, and reached for the
dice even though it wasn’t her turn, but no one seemed to object.  “Because
you’ve been cooped up in your room all day!  You should be out here having fun
with us!”

He picked up the rules to the game
and started to review them.  “And you believe that this game is somehow
fun?
”

“Absolutely!  You should be having
a GREAT time; you’re winning!”

He closed the instruction manual as
it was of absolutely no help explaining their
highly
modified rules. 
They seemed to be making them up as they went along.  “How am I winning?  I’ve
been stuck in the Questioning Quagmire for several turns now.”

She added several more hero points
to her score sheet.  “What are you talking about?  You’ve got a killer Tarot
hand!  And look!”  She pointed to his game piece.  “You’re on my team.”

He blinked down at the piece.  “Why
are we on the same team?  I didn’t even know this WAS a team game.”

She laughed like that was a stupid
thing to say.  “It’s not.”  She pointed at her game token. “…but we OBVIOUSLY
go together.”

 “I don’t know what you heard, but
Seraphim and I had nothing going on.”  He pointed at his own game piece.  “I
took her to that awards show once but…”

She laughed, again.  “No, silly.  I
mean you and me.  WE
obviously
are on the same team.  You can’t argue
with des…”

An egg timer went off and she
stopped speaking.  Cynic reached under the folding table and pulled out a new
box.  
“TELEPORTATION!” 

Stacy pounded a petite fist down on
the table.  “Darn it!  And I almost had the Emerald Monkey too!”

Cynic shrugged.  “Sorry, Stace. 
That’s the way the cards play out.”  He laid out a new game board on the table
and rapidly transferred all the pieces from the Freedom Squad board game, onto
what appeared to be an old edition of Clue.  “Badger’s in the Library!”

 “No way!”  Harlot shook her head. 
“You were in the Library LAST time!  You start out in the
Kitchen
this
time!”

“Nuh-uh!  I was in the kitchen last
time!  I remember, cause I had just sunk Stacy’s Battleship after she passed
‘Go.’”

 “Only because you
cheated
.” 
Stacy frowned.  “A full house does NOT beat Boardwalk and a Papa Smurf scratch
and sniff sticker.  EVERYONE knows that.”

He rolled his eyes and glanced at
Wyatt.  “Don’t listen to
Rainbow Not-So-Bright
over there, wonderboy.  You
and I both fucking know that a full house beats everything but a stolen credit
card or a
Happy Days
trading card.”  Cynic reluctantly placed his game
piece in the kitchen.  “But FINE.  I’ll be the bigger man.  But I get an extra ‘Get
out of jail free card’ when I find the ghost player’s treasure, agreed?”