Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (12 page)

He put his feet up on the coffee
table.  “Watching the Global Cup Race with Blackguard.”  He nodded.  “You know,
I really think Spain may take it this year.  I like their hustle.”

Blackguard snorted.  “Portugal,
man.  Spain’s team is terrible this year.  I’ve sailed faster row boats.”

Her eyes narrowed at Wyatt.  “You
can’t just walk out on meetings like that.  We weren’t done.”

He scoffed.  “Yes, you were. 
That’s not a conference room; it’s a fight cage and I have no interest in
staying in there another second.”

Blackguard went back to watching
his program.  “Better get used to it.  Word on the street has it that you’re
moving in here.  Going to trade in the cape for some evil tights or some such
thing, right?”

Wyatt nodded.  “How do you know
that?  You weren’t at the meeting?”

Blackguard snorted.  “This might
look
like an evil fortress, Fabricator, but it’s actually a small town.  Gossip
travels fast here.”

Harlot sighed and sat down between
them on the couch.  “Wyatt’s going to be one of us now.”  She yanked the bowl
from Blackguard’s hands and absently chewed on a handful of popcorn.  “Hey,
‘member that time that you and Alistair…”

They both started laughing again about
his foray into competitive racing.

Wyatt absently began looking over
the selection of books on the shelves.  It was like a schizophrenic picked them
out or something; everything from tomes on the ancient world and obscure poetry,
to philosophy, movie novelizations and mystery novels.  One shelf alone
contained what appeared to be an issue of
Hustler
, several books by
Louisa May Alcott, a stack of
Soldier For Hire
back issues and fashion
magazines, a ceramic figurine of all-too-cute children in lederhosen huddling
under an umbrella in the rain, and a pop-up book on zoo animals.  Very odd.

Harlot ate more popcorn.  “He’s
really fitting in here, Phil.  I mean, it was one of our best meetings ever!”

Blackguard looked unconvinced.  “How
many fights?”

She beamed.  “Only THREE!  And
there was hardly
any
blood!”

He nodded in surprise.  “Wow. 
Certainly an improvement.”

She offered the bowl to Wyatt.  “This
is a nice place; you’ll like it here.”  She turned to watch the race again.  “See,
that’s the thing that heroes like you never understand.  Villainy is a
lifeboat; it’s your last option when there’s no other choice for you.”

Blackguard nodded in agreement.  “Yep.”

She rested her patent leather
high-heeled boots on the coffee table.  “It’s society’s pressure valve to keep
things from exploding.  It’s like…it’s like the old West, you know?  Like all
the people who didn’t fit into Eastern society and nineteenth century norms who
had someplace to escape to.  Someplace they could go to get away from all the
rules and people, and just be themselves.”  She thoughtfully munched more
popcorn.  “If heroes could only understand that, I think everything would be
fine.  We’d be able to be who we are, and you’d be able to be who you are. 
Everyone would be happy.”  She shook her head sadly.  “But the world is so
intolerant of
every little difference
.”

Wyatt stared at her in disbelief.  “Every
little difference!?!  You guys
KILL
people! 
THAT’S
why no one
likes you!  Murder and theft are
NOT
political issues!  It’s not about
people trying to control villains; it’s about the Consortium HURTING people!”

She shrugged.  “The West is a wild
place.  No doubt.  Be a whole lot worse if we Westerners were forced to deal
with the East full time though.  Would
YOU
want Tyrant as your landlord? 
Poacher taking your daughter to the prom?  Have Meg on your kid’s PTA board, or
Gurrier as your barista?  I don’t think so.  Best for all involved that we’re
allowed to lurk here in our own underground kingdom and do things OUR way.  Sure,
we may grab the occasional Eloi, but no one wants monsters and freaks like us
running amok in their neighborhoods full time.  We’d only scare the norms if we
were forced in with them.  We don’t belong there; we belong on the open range
of the West.  The heroes are around to act as sheriffs and make sure that things
don’t get too out of hand when we Westerners come into the border towns. 
Protect the people from the worst of the bandits, but in no way try to stop the
Westerners when they’re
outside
of the Eastern towns, or try to make
them relocate East full time.  That’s how the game is played.  The pressure of
being an outcast has to be released somewhere though; it can either be here in
the West, or East with the norms.”  She nodded in affirmation of her own words
and took another handful of popcorn.  “But we’re all Misfit Toys here, Wyatt;
circus freaks.  And you’re one of us now. 
Welcome to the troupe.”

They were all silent for a long
moment.  He finally reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn.  “I had no
idea that murder was a freedom of expression issue, Harlot.”  He deadpanned.  “I
apologize.”

Blackguard nodded.  “That’s just because
you’ve never seen Tyrant use that blade thing of his, or Vaudeville pull out
his bow.”  He made a face of wonder.  “Pure
ARTISTRY.
”

She frowned disapprovingly at them. 
“You know what I mean, guys.  All I’m saying is that just because we’re sworn
enemies who fight constantly, that doesn’t mean we can’t get along.  Heroes are
good people too, and…”

Blackguard and Wyatt shook their
heads in unison.  Wyatt took another handful of the salty snack.  “Not so much,
no.”

She waived a dismissive hand.  “Nonsense. 
You just say that because you don’t know them like I do.”

Wyatt frowned.  “…Okaaaaay.  Living
with them my whole life doesn’t count?”

She shook her head.  “Nope.”  She
brightened.  “Wanna look around the lair?”  Before he could answer she was
already on her feet and headed towards the door.

Yes.  This whole thing was a
mistake.

A bat fell upon the
ground and was caught by a weasel.  The bat argued that his life should be
spared.  The weasel refused, saying that he was by nature the enemy of all
birds.  The bat assured him that he was not a bird, but a beast, and thus was
set free.  Shortly afterwards the bat again fell to the ground and was caught
by another weasel, whom he likewise entreated not to eat him.  The weasel said
that he had a special hostility towards other beasts.  The bat assured him that
he was not a beast, but a bird, and thus escaped a second time.  Moral of the
story?  It is wise to turn circumstances to good account.

Harlot didn’t understand what was
going on anymore.  Wyatt had always been this grand glorious heroic guy, and
now he appeared to be not only depressed, but also apparently on some sort of
mission to rule the world.  All in all, NOT what she expected her childhood
crush to be like in person.  Not at all.

The man in question trudged out of
the TV room and walked towards her, looking
incredibly
long-suffering. 
His negativity really was growing tiresome.  Heroes were supposed to be UP! 
Optimistic about the world and their future!  Go-getters who dreamed of the
world being a better place, and were out there every day making it happen! 
They were NOT supposed to look like they were some sort of manic depressive in
a suit.  The entire situation was throwing her off balance, and when she felt
off-balance, she got frustrated, and he was the only target around for that
frustration.  It was his own fault, really.  He had no one to blame but
himself.

“If you’re going to live here with
us, you’ll need to become better acquainted with our facilities.”

He rolled his eyes.  “I don’t plan
on staying here any longer than is absolutely necessary to accomplish my plan.”

She laughed.  “Oh, yes!  You’re
glorious plan to rule the world!  How silly of me to forget it.”  She poked his
chest with her finger.  “Listen; my family has been trying to take over the
world for decades now, mister.  If you think you’re just going to come in here
and do it over the course of a weekend, you are
sadly
mistaken.  It’s a
lot harder than it looks, ESPECIALLY if you’re an
amateur
.”

He walked around her and sat down in
one of the chairs set up in the hallway.  “True.  I’ve seen your crack team of
experts in the field, and I just don’t know how I’m ever going to measure up to
that kind of firepower.  Hell…I can’t talk to bees
OR
fish.”

She crossed her arms over her
chest.  Heroes shouldn’t be so sarcastic.  It wasn’t right.  “Being mean to your
HOSTS isn’t a good idea if you want to remain a member of their team for long.”

He ran a hand through his hair. 
His sadly SHORT hair…she still missed his longer, sexier locks…Losing them was
like the death of a friend…  “I am NOT a member of this team.  I am just
temporarily
working with you all.”

She rolled her eyes.  “FINE.  Then
as a TEMP, you should feel the need to be even NICER to us, since we can shove
your ass out on the street if you anger us.”  She took a calming breath and
willed herself to relax.  She gave him a winning smile.  “Now, does our new
temp
need a tour of our facilities here?  Even though he’s obviously NOT a member?”

Please say yes…Please say yes…

He looked up and down the hallway. 
“Ummm…I don’t really care what…”

She looked into his eyes.  “This is
basically the only thing I get to do around here until someone gets themselves
captured, or decides they need something stolen.  So, I don’t care if you
actually NEED a tour or not, you’re getting one.”  Her eyes narrowed.  “
Got
it?”

He gave her a half smile, the same
one he used on the cover of the ’98 issue of
Heroes in Review. 
Wow.  “When
you put it that way, how can I say no?  Lead the way.”

She took him down the main corridor
towards the cafeteria.  “I think you’ve already met most everyone who’s here
today, but sometimes people don’t come to the meetings.”  She frowned in
thought.  “I don’t know why.”

He absently glanced into the rooms
as they passed by.  Once again, he seemed to be trying to memorize the floor
plan in case he ever had to escape in a hurry or fight his way out.  Jesus,
this guy never relaxed.  “Don’t you?  Because I have a pretty good idea, and
I’ve only been to one meeting so far.  Could it be because you’re all
irritating violent lunatics?”

She scowled.  “Is this going to be
another critique of how we SHOULD behave?”

He stopped to read one of the
bulletin boards as he passed.  “All I’m saying is that if you want to be taken
seriously as an organization, you need to take your organization seriously.  If
you wa….”  He stopped midsentence and pointed to a flyer in confusion.  “You
guys have a weekly
BOOK CLUB?” 
He double checked the advertisement.  “…and
tea?
”

She looked down at her feet.   “Umm…
sort
of
.”  He mind raced with horrifying images of what could happen to him
during the meeting of the Consortium’s Book Club each Wednesday morning.  Oh
god…and this week’s book was
Water for Elephants
too…she fault nauseas
now as the meeting played out in her head.  Her voice took on a slightly
panicked tone, but she tried to sound casual.  “Just…just PROMISE me you won’t
try to join it.  Please?  You don’t want to!  You REALLY don’t want to! 
PLEASE
don’t go to one of those meetings!”

He looked confused, but was
apparently willing to forego the horror of the Book Club and returned to his
criticisms of the attitude in the Consortium.  “Like I was saying, if you want
to be professionals, your meetings should be conducted with SOME decorum. 
Perhaps institute some sort of parliamentary procedure on who can speak and when.”

She nodded.  “Is that what they do
in the Freedom Squad then?”

He nodded.  “Yes.”

She leaned against the wall beside
him.  “And remind me again; aren’t you trying to KILL them all?  So they can’t
be doing things that great now, can they?”

He smiled again.  “Good point. 
Still, might be nice to not have people try to kill each other
AT
the
meetings.”

She laughed.  “That was YOU!  YOU
were the one who tried to kill someone!”

He shrugged.  “Doesn’t matter who
does it.  Still wrong.”

They continued down the hallway,
and she pointed out each room as they passed. 

He shrugged.  “Doesn’t matter who
does it.  Still wrong.”

“See we all live here and it’s a
lot of fun!  Like…”  She pointed at a man walking around the corner down the
hall.  “Oh look, there’s Booth!  He’s Abraham Lincoln’s evil twin.”  She waived
at the tall man in the stove pipe hat and then continued her earlier thought.
“…I mean, most of us have apartments and stuff, as well.  But…”

He cut her off, his gaze darting to
the corner she had just been looking at.  “I’m sorry.  WHAT!?!”

She stopped, becoming confused. 
“We have apartments?”

He shook his head.  “No, before
that.”

“Umm…we live here and it’s fun?” 
She nodded.  “It’s like summer camp or a college dorm.  Always something cool
going on!  A couple weeks ago, we had a hula party.  It was such a blast!”

He sighed.  “No, I meant who was… 
Oh, never mind.”

“This place is like summer camp or
a college dorm.  Always
something
cool going on!  A couple weeks ago, we
had a hula party. 
It was such a blast! 
Some of us have cover houses and
apartments, just to keep our secret identities intact…”

He laughed.  “WHAT secret
identities!?!  You people don’t
HAVE
secret identities; you practically
wear T-shirts with your real names and addresses on them. 
Groucho masks
would be better at protecting your identities than the system you currently
use.”

She scowled.  “Why are you always
down on everything we do here, huh?”

“I don’t know…gee, let me think…because
you’re all
EVIL?
  And most of you are
ALSO
incompetent, which
makes the evil even more
insulting
.”

She stopped walking.  “Out of
curiosity…which group am I in?  Evil or evil and incompetent?”

He was silent for a long moment.  “Honestly? 
I’m not sure yet.  I’m still trying to figure you out.  You’re not at
all
what I expected you to be.”

She walked faster to catch up with
him.  “Really?  How did you expect me to be?  Why were you expecting me to be
anything at all?”

He looked at the floor for a
moment.  “I expected you to be…I don’t know….”

Her eyebrows rose expectantly.  “Evil
and whorish?”

He nodded.  “Yeah.  Kind of.”

She shrugged.  “Well, I only kill
puppies on
Mondays
.  It’s a nice break from the near constant orgies I
participate in over the weekends.  Really tires a girl out.”  He stared at her
for a moment.  Then two.  She laughed.  “That was a JOKE, by the way.  Jesus. 
You really
don’t
know how we do things here, do you?”

He looked relieved.  “Well, I guess
that’s why I’m taking the tour, right?  Figure out how the evil-half lives?”

She bobbed her head in excitement. 
“See?  THAT’S the spirit!  I really think if you give us a chance, you’ll love
it here!”

He made another non-committal
sound.  “Yes, I’m sure.  Can you just show me where I’ll be sleeping?”

She shook her head.  “Nope.”

He blinked.  “…Why not?”

She laughed.  What a silly question
to ask.  “Because I need to finish the tour first, silly.  The dorms come at
the END of the tour.  Everyone knows that.  Jeez.”

He blinked rapidly as he tried to
process that.  “Um…okay.  How silly of me.  How could I not have known that?”

A large man turned the corner in
front of them.  She smiled at him.  “Wyatt; this is Skullduggery.  He…”  Her
words where cut off as the man roughly shouldered his way between them and kept
walking.

“
Get the fuck out of my way
.” 
He turned back to glare at her.  “You seen that little bitch, Gia around?” 
Harlot shook her head.  She hadn’t seen Infernal since yesterday.  Doug’s eyes
narrowed at her in disgust, and he pointed a gloved hand at her chest.  “
Just
what the fuck good are you then?
  Huh?  Why are you even HERE, Harlot? 
Answer me that?  No powers; all fucking mouth.
Useless.
”  He started
stalking away again.  “You see Gia, you tell her that I’m going to kick her
skinny fucking ass.”

She waived after him cheerily.  “Will
do, Doug!”

Wyatt watched the man stalk away
for a moment and then refocused her and nodded with mock sincerity.  “I think
I’m
really
going to like him.”

She paused.  “Umm…I doubt it.”  Her
happy smile returned.  “Anyway, like I was saying; we have to finish off the
rooms on this level first and then we can…”  She trailed off again and raised
her voice.  “Hey, Tutt!” Wyatt turned his head to watch as the mummy man slowly
made his way down the hallway.  Harlot smiled at the bandaged figure, her voice
taking on a pitying tone.  “If you’re headed to the meeting, it’s already over,
Honey.  I’m afraid you missed it again.”

The man dropped his arms to his
sides dejectedly and slowly shuffled back down the corridor in the direction he
had just come. 

She looked over at Wyatt and shook
her head sadly.  “He always misses the meetings cause he moves kind of slow.” 
She lowered her voice to a whisper.  “We’re going to buy him one of those little
scooter things for his birthday.”  She paused.  “Don’t tell him.”

Wyatt made a noncommittal humoring
sound. 

She pointed to a large room filled
with tables and a stainless steel counter at one end which connected to a
kitchen area.  “This is the cafeteria.  There are usually a bunch of people in
here.  The food is actually awesome.”  She paused and lowered her voice to a
whisper again.  “Stay away from the meatloaf though.  It…isn’t the best.  Don’t
eat it.”  She paused again.  “Just
please
don’t eat it.”

He nodded.  “I’ll make a mental
note of it.”

She ushered him into the room.  “Let’s
go see who we can introduce you to…”  She pointed at the group of people
scattered around the room.”  She waived at them.  “Hey guys!”

Half of them ignored her and the
other half gave her an offhanded wave like you would give to someone you were
embarrassed that you actually knew, and didn’t want to talk with.  Her smile
faded.  Damn.  They couldn’t even PRETEND to be civil even for a moment.  Well…..maybe
Wyatt didn’t notice.

Wyatt stared at the other members. 
“They don’t
seem
overly thrilled to see us, do they?”

Damn.  He noticed.  She tried to
cover rapidly.  He didn’t need to know how negative some of the members of the
Consortium could be.  So far, all the people he had met were down right
pleasant, and she didn’t want to spoil that.  “They’re just…umm…”

He shrugged.  “…Maybe they had the
meatloaf.”  He walked towards the door again.  “Whatever.  Forget them.  Let’s
get on with the tour.”

She pointed to a man in a trench
coat and fedora, slumped down unconscious in his chair, his face resting in his
plate of food.  She sighed sadly.  Damn.  Bannon started drinking earlier and
earlier every day.  Poor man.  “That’s Prohibition, he…”

Wyatt nodded.  “I am already
familiar with Mr. O’Banion, thank you.”  He squinted at him a moment,
apparently noticing for the first time that Bannon appeared to have been pulled
from an old gangster film and had no color.  “Has he always been all grainy and
black and white like that?”

Harlot shook her head.  “Not until
recently, no.”  She paused.  “He’s…been going through some stuff.”  She pointed
to the kitchen staff behind the counter at the front of the room; Amy, Emily
and Adam Eden.