Super Villain Academy 2: Polar Opposites Read online

  Frowning, Jeff looked up and down the line of cops. He didn’t sense any warm or fuzzy feelings nearby. This kind of situation was what supers lived for. So, where were they? Hoping his intuition was just distracted by the melee, Jeff slid along the barrier, pushing people out of the way and reaching out with his underdeveloped super intuition, hoping to run into another super. By the time he’d jostled and barged his way around the perimeter of the park, his super intuition was flagging from exhaustion, and Jeff had grown super irritable.

  A bottle with a flaming rag stuffed into it whizzed past Jeff’s ear. It bounced against a policeman’s riot shield and fell back into the crowd. The fire licked and teased next to the pant leg of a downtown high-riser twenty-something guy. Jeff suspected the young professional was completely ignorant of why he was participating in this protest, and considered letting him and his expensive suit go up in flames. With a growl of frustration, he lunged forward. Blowing a heavy layer of frost onto his hand, he reached down to snatch the burning rag. Steam accompanied a hissing sound as the fire was squelched.

  The guy’s brows drew together as he stared at the steaming rag in Jeff’s hand. Finally he looked up at Jeff. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  Jeff shrugged and shook his head.

  The guy’s mouth hung open and his expression was a cross of awe and fear.

  “I think you’re in over your head, dude,” Jeff said. “You should probably go back to your office.”

  The guy turned and melted into the crowd so fast, Jeff lost sight of him immediately. He dug his phone out the front pocket of his jeans. “Call Source,” he said to it. Most of the supers had upgraded to voice recognition phones because of the likelihood they’d be involved in a situation and wouldn’t have a free hand to call for help. When nothing happened, Jeff pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the display. It was searching for “Sidiopig.” Annoyed, Jeff ended the function and pressed icons until the phone dialed Source’s number.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Source said on the other end of the connection. “Whoa! It’s loud there. Where are you?”

  Jeff had the phone pressed to his ear as tightly as he could and a finger stuffed into his other ear, but he could barely hear what Source said. He yelled, “Dude, I can’t hear you.”

  “I can hear you just fine!” Source yelled back.

  Jeff heard enough of it to understand he didn’t need to yell. “Hey, I’m at the park. There are no supers here.”

  “What do you mean, no supers?” Source hollered.

  “None! Can’t find one. Circled the entire police line, and picked up nothing.”

  The guy standing next to Jeff bellowed in anger at the police. He swung a baseball bat that probably was supposed to be directed at the police, but instead made a very solid connection with Jeff’s hand, which held his phone, against an ear, attached to his head.

  Stars erupted in Jeff’s vision like fireworks on the fourth of July. He roared his surprise and stumbled into the man.

  “Polar! What happened? You okay?” Source called through the phone.

  Jeff had enough wits to spare a passing thought to the fact that his phone had survived the blow, but then all the dancing stars turned from white to red as anger coursed through him. Unable to control his reaction, he grabbed a healthy amount of the guy’s shirt collar and twisted it tight while he lifted him off the ground to eye level. “What were you thinking?”

  The guy’s eyes bugged out from fear and probably dwindling oxygen. He was only able to squeak unintelligibly. Jeff tossed him away like a rag doll. The guy flew into a group of protesters and bowled them over like bowling pins at the end of an alley.

  “Everybody stop!” Jeff’s roar rumbled the earth and he inadvertently stuck everybody within the city center in place with an epic surge of gravity.

  An eerie silence descended on the revelers. Most stared at Jeff as if a huge spotlight was directed on him.

  “Go home!” Jeff yelled.

  A burly, tattooed, bald man eyed Jeff frantically while he rocked back and forth in place. Jeff frowned and then felt the pull of gravity radiating from him and through the ground in all directions. “Crap.”

  Without thinking, Jeff released the gravity all at once. The crowd surged into action; people stumbled into each other, tumbled to the ground, tripped over their own feet as they kicked into a run. They scattered like roaches when a light is turned on. Without a care in the world for those who’d fallen over, they just clamored right over them in their haste to leave the city center. Cries of pain and screams of terror accompanied the mass exodus.

  “Super crap,” Jeff mumbled.

  “Polar, what’s going on? POOOLLLLLAAAARRR!”

  Jeff blinked down at the phone he still held in his hand and then slowly raised it to his ear. “Um… hey!”

  “What do mean, hey?” Source spat. “What just happened there? Shit, there’s breaking news on TV.”

  “Some guy walloped me with a baseball bat,” Jeff said, hoping to avoid the rest of the explanation.

  “Uh, Polar? How did getting hit with a bat clear city center so quickly?” Source asked.

  “How do you know city center’s cleared?” Jeff turned in a circle and confirmed that indeed, the only people left in view were dazed police wandering around in circles.

  “I’m watching it right now. Oh, actually, I’m watching you. The helicopter has zoomed in on you. It’s a really clear picture of your ugly mug. You better get out of there, Polar.”

  Jeff did his best imitation of looking dazed and confused like the police and wandered out of the city center. “I’ll talk to you later, Source.”

  He shoved the phone into his pocket and ducked into a parking structure, hoping the helicopter would lose interest in him and fly off.

  Chapter 19

  Jeff jammed his eyes shut and ended the phone call with Mother. Why couldn’t she wait until he was home before unleashing the condescending tirade about getting caught on camera?

  He fell back against a concrete pillar; the stone’s cold seeped through his shirt and into his skin. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Oci, for her to lay her head on his chest and make some lame joke about being stuck in a parking structure hiding out from the media. He wanted to feel her tiny arms snake around his waist and her hand slip into his back pocket. Sniffing, he tried to conjure the memory of her scent, but he could only remember the salty ocean breeze that often accompanied his dad’s ability to relax people instead of the fresh, spicy mix of sea breeze and sea lavender that filled the air when Oci was happy.

  Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smelled her signature good mood scent. Jeff frowned. Had she been unhappy? Why?

  Strains of the Goth-metal song, Super Villain, erupted from his phone. He knew he should change his ringtone to something more balanced. He glanced at the phone’s display and answered, “Yeah, dad.”

  “The news just reported that the police are looking for the boy involved in the incident downtown. They flashed a darn clear close up of you in the city center.”

  “Did they really call me a boy?” Jeff asked.

  “Son, stay focused. Keep yourself hidden. Don’t let anyone see you.” His father hung up without so much as a suggestion of how to escape the parking structure without being seen.

  Jeff stared at his phone in disbelief. “Thanks, Dad.”

  The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. Jeff ducked beside a parked car. Footsteps approached. They had the telltale click of high heels, so Jeff doubted it was a cop, but he crawled to the front of the car to avoid being seen regardless. He scrunched as low as he could between the grill of the car and the cold concrete wall. The jingle of keys was followed by the bounce of the car directly in front of him.

  “Seriously?” Jeff grumbled. He stuffed his phone in his mouth as he shifted to all fours to scramble down the row of cars. The smell of oil assaulted his nose. The rough surface scratched at his hands. S
uddenly the synthesized notes and screaming guitar of Super Villain blared through the otherwise quiet garage. “Grup,” he mumbled around his phone.

  Jeff fell into the fetal position and fumbled with his phone frantic to answer fast. “Yeah!”

  “Jeff, I can get a car there, but we can’t get any closer than the corner of Highland and Tower,” Mother said.

  “That’s a couple blocks! How am I supposed to get there without being seen?” Jeff whispered. The person who’d gotten into the car still hadn’t started the engine. Jeff squirmed like a worm trying to see if the driver had gotten out to investigate the noise. He didn’t see any feet.

  “I don’t know, Jeff,” his mother snapped. “I’m not the one who got myself into this situation.”

  She hung up.

  Jeff forgot himself and let out a loud growl of frustration. Luckily for him, it was at the exact same time the person started the car. Curled up like a baby and seething, Jeff waited until the car drove off before he cautiously got up and looked around.

  It was a bit of a nightmare to work out, but in the end, Jeff found a skyway on the fourth floor of the garage that connected to a professional building. There he found a janitor’s closet, some coveralls that were only six inches too short, an identification badge clipped to a pushpin on a bulletin board, thick lens reading glasses and a grungy baseball cap. He jogged down the stairs and walked out the service entrance to an alleyway behind the building. It took another half hour to find the car Mother had sent because she was completely lame at giving directions and had him wandering around Chinatown’s business district in his flood-water janitor’s scrubs, feeling very out of place. The whole time the car was two blocks over, on the corner of Highland and Sumpter, in the posh financial district, which, when he got there, made him feel even more out of place in his dorky get-up.

  To add insult to injury, the poser, Don, was behind the wheel. He scrunched his eyebrows together when Jeff slid into the passenger seat. “Can I help you?” he droned.

  “Yeah, you can get me out of here!” Jeff pulled the glasses and hat off.

  “Oh, it’s you. Good disguise,” Don said. Then into his phone he said, “Listen, babe, that thing I was waiting for is here. But, hold that thought. I’ll call you later.”

  Ignoring the “thing” comment, Jeff wanted to retch over Don’s creepy suggestive tone, but was sure the janitor’s clothes were too tight for him to suck a deep enough breath in order to heave. The car rocked back and forth as he tried to wriggle out of the coveralls. With his long legs jammed into the space under the dash and the roof of the car only a hair taller than Jeff’s head, there wasn’t enough room for him to squirm around and peel the clothes off. Finally he ripped the coveralls down the middle, sighing in relief when his privates were no longer squished up between his legs. “Why do you have such a miniscule car, anyway?”

  An eyebrow rose above the lenses of Don’s sunglasses. “Chicks love the imports.”

  “Come on. You’re telling me that a fine specimen of a man like you has to resort to the same ploys as a common human?” Jeff smirked when he saw Don’s jaw flap, but heard no retort.

  Relief filled Jeff when they turned onto his street. If Don told one more caller to “hold that thought” in that oily tone, Jeff would vomit on his leather interior.

  Don pulled his car to the curb and frowned at the house. “You live here?”

  Jeff was already halfway out the door. “Um, yeah.”

  Don swung his own door open and unfolded from the car. “Huh, I expected something more grand.”

  “What are you doing?” Jeff eyed Don over the top of the car. “This isn’t a date. You don’t have to walk me to the door.”

  Gaze intent on the house, Don strode around the car and hopped onto the sidewalk. “Just want to say hi to Sarah.”

  “She won’t be here. She said she was in Nigeria…” his voice faded when none other than Mother breezed out the front door.

  “We’ve been so worried,” she said as she embraced Jeff in an awkward, stiff-armed hug.

  He looked down at the top of her head as if he could see through to the inner workings of her brain to figure out where the sudden concern came from and how she got back from her international travels so fast.

  “Polar!” Frank sprang through the front door, looking like a party host welcoming guests to the luau. He clapped Jeff on the arm and ignored Sarah’s sneer at the use of the villainy nickname. “We were beginning to wonder if we’d have to go in to retrieve you ourselves, son.”

  Jeff squinted at his parents. “What’s going on?”

  Sarah managed to look insulted by Jeff’s suspicion. “I already told you, we were worried.”

  “Have you even begun to look for Oci?” Jeff crossed his arms in front of him.

  “What does that have to do with it?” Sarah’s familiar scowl was a strange comfort to Jeff.

  “Well, I’m having a hard time understanding how you guys can give a rat’s ass about an abduction we witnessed, yet you call in the Calvary,” he hooked his thumb in Don’s direction, “when a news camera traps me in a parking structure.”

  “Watch your language!” Sarah snipped.

  “Son,” Frank started.

  “Don’t chill me, Dad.” Jeff rolled his shoulders to shake off the fingers of cool air wrapping around his arms and stroking his cheeks.

  “Of course not,” Frank said. “You’re our son. We worry. That can’t come as a surprise.”

  Jeff looked from one parent to the next, remembering how his dad had mounted a search when Jeff had gone into hiding because he’d been so confused about his dueling heritage and who he was supposed to be. He remembered the impressive show of force they’d mustered from both sides of the super front—most astounding because it was pre-balancing—in order to bust him out of Mystic’s possession. Yet, something didn’t ring sincere in his dad’s explanation. Dad was an ex-villain, though; maybe he couldn’t help that saccharine tone that made your mind scream, “Fake!”

  Frank must have recognized the acceptance in Jeff’s expression, because he swung away with his hand stuck out.

  “You must be Don. Thank you for getting Polar…er, Jeff. I couldn’t find an available super that isn’t still on the police’s most wanted list.” Frank pumped Don’s hand enthusiastically.

  Jeff noticed that the appreciation didn’t extend to his dad’s eyes. He chuckled when he realized his dad didn’t like Mr. Smarmtastic any better than he did. Suddenly framed by a frown, Frank’s gaze shifted to Jeff when he heard him chuckle. Making up a quick excuse, Jeff stammered, “Oh, I… uh… never thought about the villains being on wanted lists before.”

  Don leered at Sarah, still shaking hands with Frank as if they were having a thumb war. “I’m always there for my girl.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and shifted all her weight to one foot.

  “If you need the kid to hide out for a couple days, I could arrange something,” Don offered. He pulled his hand from Frank’s grip and wiped it on his thigh. Then pinning Sarah in his sites he said, “I could put you and the kid up for the time being. I’d make you real comfortable.”

  Sarah grimaced. “No, Don, that will not be necessary. That will never be necessary.”

  He shrugged. “Very well then. Keep your nose clean, kid.” He clapped Jeff on the arm, sending him stumbling sideways.

  The three watched Don drive away. Staring at the departing import, Sarah said, “Sorry about that, Frank. He’s the only one who answered my request for help.”

  “I thought good guys were supposed to be good,” Jeff said. Then immediately thought of his mother’s freezer burned personality and wished he could take back the comment.

  “They just fight for good, Jeff,” Sarah said. “Well, fought. Now everyone fights for right. They don’t have to be likeable, though.”

  “Well Don Juan there sure has that one sewn up.” Jeff turned and walked toward the house. “What’s for dinner?”r />
  Chapter 20

  “You’re quite the showboater,” Set drawled.

  Jeff tossed a packet of papers onto a card table. “Yeah, that’s me. I just love to be in the limelight.”

  “What’s this?” Set shifted the top piece of paper to look at the next sheet.

  “Mystic’s phone records,” Jeff said.

  Set’s left eyebrow arched high on his forehead. “How did you manage that? Are Daddy and Mommy finally helping?”

  Jeff rolled his eyes, but wasn’t sure if it was because the question annoyed him or because his parents annoyed him. “Well, I don’t have a clue if they are finally helping or not. They supposedly are, but I haven’t heard anything, and I’m not gonna sit around waiting.”

  “So, how’d you get these?” Set asked with what Jeff suspected might be a hint of respect in his voice.

  “Source,” Jeff said. He reached over and fanned out the pile across the table.

  “I understand you have sources,” Set growled. “I’m wondering if they are reliable or not.”

  Puzzled, Jeff asked, “Huh?”

  “Who are your sources?”

  “Source is my sources,” Jeff said.

  Set glowered.

  “You don’t remember Source, do you?” Jeff asked.

  Set shook his head, looking suspicious.

  “Skinny kid, glasses. Total nerd, really,” Jeff said. “He was abducted a couple months before me from SVA. White hats took him and converted him. Not that that matters now, but… well, anyway, he’s super smart and knows how to do stuff like this.”

  Set shrugged. “That’s good then. Anything interesting in here?”

  Jeff shook his head. “I don’t think so. Source pulled the most recent activity, plus the activity around the time of the abduction, and also a few months before it. We were hoping to find some sort of change or a number that was used a lot, but I haven’t been able to spot anything, though I’ve really only glanced over it.”

  “Leave it here and I’ll study it,” Set said.

  Jeff wasn’t sure he appreciated his tone of voice, as if Set managed to include, “because you’re far too stupid to work this out on your own,” without saying it aloud. Rubbing a hand over his face, Jeff decided not to fight. “Fine. What have you been up to?”