Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1) (2 page)

Lenny sighed. “Shit, Titan. Why couldn’t you give those kinds of speeches back in the day? I could have made you freaking king of the Heroes if you tugged the heart strings on command.”

“What can you do now?”

“I can make a few calls,” Lenny said slowly. “No promises, just a few calls. For an old friend. A favor, if you want it.”

Owen gave him a smile, and for an instant Lenny was staring through time at the enthusiastic kid he’d first signed so very long ago.

“I’ll take it.”

1.

Two Months Later

“You’re sure about this?” Lenny asked for somewhere around the ninth time, if Owen’s count was correct. “That’s the beauty of living behind a mask and a costume. Change those elements up and Poof! New Hero. It takes a little wiggling here and there, especially with guys of your proportions, but it’s nothing I can’t pull off.”

Owen shook his head solemnly. They were in Lenny’s office, cheesy decor surrounding the two very different men. Owen was suited up in his Titan costume, red shirt, red mask, and blue jeans all wrapped around nearly seven feet of solid muscle. As strong as he looked, he was actually far more powerful. Lenny, on the other hand, was still round and balding with a nose that looked like he’d tried to win a few boxing bouts by attacking his opponent’s fists with his face. Still, there was more than a touch of smarts and charisma in that foul-mouthed cherub’s eyes. Both were masters of their respective trades, though one had been out of the game for a long while.

“I’m not changing identities,” Owen said. “I’m coming back as Titan. If I don’t, then I feel like I’m still running. It might not make sense to you, but this is how I have to do it.”

Lenny ran his hand across the top of his head, touching more skin than hair by a large margin. Habits didn’t die easily, though, even if follicles did. “I was afraid you were going to say that. You know that makes things harder, right? The other way would open up a lot more options.”

“The options for going at it the right way are the ones I want,” Owen insisted.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Lenny slid a manila envelope across the desk to his client. “Even with your license reinstated, there weren’t a lot of people clamoring to have you on their team. You come with more heat than most folks are willing to take.”

“Solo Heroes exist,” Owen said.

“Not for you they don’t,” Lenny countered. “We let you go solo and that’s how you’ll be until the end. You’ll look like an outcast, the guy that no one wanted after his scandal. People like me will use your story as a cautionary tale to keep younger Heroes in line.”

“But no one
does
want me,” Owen pointed out.

“Why would you bring that up? My ulcer isn’t bad enough this week without you reminding me what we’re trying to pull off here? You’re a hurtful man and you should be ashamed,” Lenny chastised. “Besides which, you’re wrong. The team in that folder agreed to take you, so at least some people want you.”

Owen took the clue to flip open the folder. As soon as he began reading, a frown formed at the corner of his mouth, visible just below the bottom of his skintight mask. The frown deepened the longer he read, until finally his gaze rose from the pages and across the desk to his agent.

“Corpies? Are you shitting me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did my months of trying to impress upon you how few your options were not provide a slight clue that you were getting the bottom of the shit-bucket? And don’t call them that. The technical term is Privately Employed Emergency Response Supers, or PEERS if you don’t have all day.”

“Come on, Lenny, these people aren’t even Heroes.” Owen dropped the file onto the desk. “Why would I be on a team of corpies?”

Try as he might, Owen couldn’t imagine what sort of justification Lenny would use for this proposal. Corpies were Supers who hadn’t gone through the screening or training to get their Hero Certifications and therefore were not allowed to confront criminal Supers. However, through some loophole maneuvering and fancy legal footwork, it had been established that a Super did not need a Hero Certification to assist in any emergency response operation that didn’t involve combat. This charge was led by corporations that yearned to get their logos emblazoned on the capes of champions doing good, saving innocents, and spreading the word about how this particular laundry soap got your whites the whitest. Rarely did a corpie attain any real popularity; however, the few times they had gotten a following had been so profitable that companies eagerly rolled the dice and kept right on paying to keep their names on Supers. Though many Heroes considered them worthless hacks who couldn’t cut it in the Hero game, the fact remained that having them on hand usually did more good than harm, so their continued existence was tolerated with minor grumbling. But that didn’t mean Owen wanted to babysit a damn group of them.

“Why? Because in order for them to function as an independent team, working in their own fancy headquarters, responding to various disasters and calls, they have to have a Hero Liaison on staff. Someone to bat cleanup if things get messy or trouble shows up. This team, as luck would have it, just lost their Hero to retirement. No others are stepping forward, so they either had to take you on or go back to working in the basement of a police station where the lights don’t work and it smells like piss. Those were their options: piss smell or you.”

“But-”

“AND,” Lenny said, raising his voice and rising slightly off his chair, “I had to wheel and deal to make it happen. It was you and a luxury high-rise loft, or no you and a dank piss-scented basement, and I had to
convince
them to take you. Are you getting the picture here?”

“Then forget it,” Owen replied. “If no team wants me then I’ll go solo after all. Let me be a story. Let everyone call me an outcast and a failure. Better that than chaperoning a bunch of corpies.”

“That is your prerogative,” Lenny said, his temper cooling as he lowered himself back into his seat. “You have the right to go at this alone. But if you do, then you’re doing it completely alone.”

A pang of uncertainty smacked Owen in the gut. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you go solo, I’m out. I’ll finish the paperwork to make you official again, and that’s it.”

“What the hell, Lenny? Suddenly it’s my way or the highway? What ever happened to finding what works best for the Hero?” Owen resisted the urge to jump out of his own seat, only because he was afraid he might crack the floor.

Lenny didn’t yell back this time. Instead, he took an antacid from his desk drawer and dropped it into a glass of water with a fizzy plop.

“I am thinking about what’s best for you. We worked together for a long time, back in the day. I know you, and that’s why I’m telling you that you need a team. The family man image we sold you as worked because you
are
a family man. You need people around who depend on you. They give you strength. They are what push you past your hardest moments. Last time you went off on your own, your funk lasted over a decade and didn’t break until your sons called you a fucker. You need a team, Titan. Without one, it’s just a matter of time until it all becomes too much and you fall apart again. And I’m not hanging around for it this time.”

Owen felt his indignation morph in to shame. He’d been calling Lenny a quitter when he was the one who’d walked away. Lenny was doing what he did for all his clients: just trying to make sure they were put in the best position to stay happy and employed. He was watching out for Owen, even after Owen had nearly cost Lenny his reputation all that time ago.

Owen reached across and picked back up the folder. “Are they expecting me?”

“You report for duty at nine tomorrow morning,” Lenny informed him.

“Seems late.”

“They have a photo shoot at seven.”

Owen resisted the urge to groan, but only barely.

2.

Owen stared up at the building, admiring the way it jutted into the sky as though it were trying to spear clouds. On days with the right weather, it probably succeeded. He adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder more out of nerves than necessity. Even as fully as it was packed, the bag was nowhere near heavy enough to actually cause him discomfort. Most of his possessions had been stored back at his place in Colorado, though some had been sent ahead to this building via courier. The things in the bag he never trusted to anyone else. They were too important to be risked.

“Titan?”

The voice snapped Owen out of his marveling and brought him back to reality. He wasn’t dressed as Titan currently; instead he wore simple clothes and a generic gray mask. Wearing such masks was standard practice for Heroes who didn’t want to be “in character” but still needed to go places without showing their face. It was inconvenient; however, it beat the hell out of having one’s identity blown. Since he wasn’t wearing his Titan costume, though, it meant this was the man who had known he was coming. Or someone who was a really good guesser.

The fellow who had spoken was tall and lean, wearing a suit that was conservative enough to say corporate but expensive enough to show he was high on the food chain. His glasses and watch were designer, and his hair had been expertly styled. Owen suspected he was not going to like this person.

“You’re Harold?”

“Mr. Greene, if you don’t mind,” the man replied.

“Whatever you say.” Owen hefted his bag again. “We going inside?”

“Of course,” Mr. Greene said. “If you’d be so kind as to follow me.”

Mr. Greene and Owen walked through the front doors, large glass ones that opened into a sprawling lobby that seemed to be made of marble. All around them other people in suits and business appropriate outfits scuttled about, doing things that they no doubt believed were of the utmost importance. In the center of the lobby, just ahead of a long row of elevators, was a circular station where a pair of guards sat. Mr. Greene stopped at this station and handed them a card extracted from his breast pocket.

“We’ll get your keycard and I.D. done this afternoon,” Mr. Greene informed him. “You’ll need them at all times while on premises, otherwise you won’t be permitted access.”

“That so?” Owen said the words casually, but as he spoke his eyes swept the room, years of experience alerting him to the bits and bobbles of security a casual observer wasn’t supposed to see. “Have to say, the tazing system built into the floor wouldn’t really slow me down, and the knockout gas dispensers you’ve got disguised as fire alarms would only tickle my throat. Now, the pulse cannon you’ve made to look like a potted plant, that might set me back a few steps.”

“Impressive,” Mr. Greene commented. “I suppose there is more to you than size and reputation.”

“I aim to please.”

Once they passed the security guards, Mr. Greene flashed his card in front of an elevator near the end of the line. Its doors whooshed open and the two men stepped inside.

“All this for one team?” Owen asked as the elevator began to rise.

“Don’t be silly. This building houses offices for multiple companies, all owned, at least partially, by Mordent Holdings. Each member of the team is sponsored by at least one of our companies, so we made a few floors into facilities for them. We find it best if our representatives stay on site.”

“You mean where you can keep an eye on them,” Owen said.

“We provide housing, food, facilities, and entertainment, all at no deduction from their salaries. I’d say that’s quite a generous situation for them,” Mr. Greene shot back.

“Because we all know corporations love doing things from the goodness of their hearts.” Owen fiddled with his duffle bag once more. “Look, I’m not telling you how to run your company or your team, just calling it like I see it.”

“I’d suggest you call it more quietly.” Mr. Greene’s eyes never wavered from the climbing numbers on the elevator’s display. “We approved taking you on as the Hero Liaison because it was deemed to be an overall net gain. Should that equation change, we may need to revisit your position’s feasibility.”

“Yeah yeah, toe the line like a good boy or I’m out on my ass. If you don’t mind me asking, what made you decide to take me on, anyway? I’m not exactly the best PR magnet these days.”

“Mordent Holdings has recently received negative publicity at the hands of discrimination lawsuits alleging we create a hostile working environment for women and homosexuals. Some of the recordings played in court and leaked online were particularly damning. As part of our efforts to assure the public such culture will not be tolerated, we’re making strides to earn back the trust of the female and LGBTQ communities. Hiring you was one of many examples of our new corporate culture.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing a carpeted hallway leading to a single door at the end. Owen peered down its depths, counting at least four more security measures designed to take down anything from humans to rhinos to Supers with enhanced durability. These people didn’t skimp on security, at least.

“So you give me a second chance and hope the public will give you one. Not bad. What about the rest of the team? They picked to smooth out scandals too?”