The Division Page 2

  Sometimes he felt that Slugger missed the point. Having his exploits show up on TV gave people hope—that they were protected by heroes. Of course, it was easy to bask in the attention when he wore a mask that covered most of his face. With it, he was Valor, not Mitch Michaels from South Jersey.

  He grinned, feeling the weight of the leather on his cheeks. Socket had suggested it, back when they were teens, after Socket had recognized him even with the flimsy little mask he’d worn then. If Slugger had been the one to show him how to be a hero, it was Socket who made the life fun.

  “This way, please.” The chairman led him up the stairs to the short stage that had been set up at the front of the room. This was too fancy of a ballroom to have anything as common as a DJ, but Valor felt a little like he was standing in front of a high school prom. The audience was all decked out in tuxes and sparkling evening wear, in shades of dark reds, sapphire blues, deep purples, and forest greens. The twinkling chandeliers gave off a soft glow as the people moved along the polished marble floor.

  Valor stepped up to the microphone and struck his best hero pose, just like Slugger had taught him. He planted his fists on his hips and thrust his shoulders back. The rest of the team filed in behind him. They weren’t at that place yet where Valor could anticipate their movements like his own, but he was confident that they would reach that point together.

  The Earth depended on it.

  He flashed his “V” salute at the cameras. Man, Valor wished Socket could be up there with them. It was a damn shame nobody knew about the things Socket did behind the scenes. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” He grinned and nodded at the people who attempted to respond. “Good, good! Everyone, I’m here to introduce you all to The Division.”

  The name of the group—like so many other things—had been Socket’s idea.

  “The Division. I don’t know, isn’t that little generic?” Valor grasped Socket’s shoulder, his eyes on the computer screen as they worked on registering the webpage for their new superhero team.

  Socket took his hand off the keyboard. Watching him type without moving a finger still made Valor smile. “You have a better idea?”

  This was their one chance to name their own superhero team. Valor had hundreds of ideas. “I was thinking something like ‘Heroes of Justice’ or something like that.”

  “That’s fine if you want us to come off like a bunch of pricks.”

  That was Socket—why would he sugarcoat something when he could just tell you the truth? He hadn’t changed a bit since high school. Even back then, Valor had envied Socket’s ability to just say what he was thinking and damn the consequences. Of course, Socket didn’t have to be careful like Valor. The press wasn’t aware of Socket’s existence, and thus his skeletons were still in the closet. Valor still feared that someone would dig up his secret, the one thing about him that even Socket didn’t know.

  Valor gestured to his teammates with one hand, conscious of his role as the leader. He needed to be front and center—the voice of The Division as they addressed the media for the first time.

  “I’m sure most of you know who I am, but just in case, they call me Valor.” He went through the “V” salute again and winked. The audience chuckled. “Let me introduce you to my team.”

  If only Slugger could see Valor now, leading his own super group. It was just like Slugger and The Infamous back in the fifties. Valor was making his own history, striking out on his own path using the tools Slugger had given him years ago.

  May the old man rest in peace.

  “I’m sure you all know Doc Lightning.” How could they not? She had single handedly powered the entire city of Atlanta when a hurricane took out the control grid long enough for the power company to reroute everything. Valor might be a little in awe of the sheer amount of raw energy she possessed.

  “Lord knows I’ve been around a while.” She laughed as she stepped up next to him. Doc had been around so long, she didn’t have a secret identity anymore. That was why there was no mask to go with her Division costume, which was a black jumpsuit with a glowing blue lightning bolt stretched across her chest.

  “Mace, who’s active out of Chicago.” Valor slipped to the side and beamed as the next member of the team stepped up.

  Mace looked the most at home in the matching version of his own costume. A bandana covered his bald head and a half mask hid his eyes, leaving his full beard visible.

  “Tiana of the Ellorian people.”

  The woman was an honest to goodness alien, which was obvious by her purple skin and the fact that she stood nearly seven feet tall. Tiana crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at the reporters with her glowing golden eyes. She didn’t like the press—but then again, Valor wasn’t sure if she liked anyone. He’d never seen her smile, but maybe being trapped light years from home would do that.

  “And some newcomers. Dash and Jester.”

  The kids, as Socket called them, had only emerged on the hero scene in the past year. Dash had long blond hair that fell to her waist, which was a shock against the darkness of her uniform. Jester’s entire head was covered by a full face mask, which was quartered and divided in white and black.

  Socket had the idea for the team to wear black variations of their own costumes. He said it gave them a unified look and then grumbled something about not being a gay stereotype since he usually lacked any fashion sense. At least Valor got to keep the red and blue accents of his original outfit. He couldn’t be Valor without the giant “V” on his chest. It was his signature. He did like seeing Socket in his own black jumpsuit, since for once Socket had a uniform.

  “Valor, will you answer some questions?” One of the reporters in the crowd called out.

  “I’d be happy to. But we’re all here tonight to have some fun and raise money for charity. You can always check out our website—thedivisionheroes.com—that covers everything.” He repeated the address one more time for those who hadn’t caught it. Socket had told him to push the website and avoid saying anything stupid. Valor had told him he couldn’t promise the latter.

  This would be so much more fun if he had Socket up here on stage with them. Socket would insult the reporters, and then Valor would swoop in and have them eating out of his palm. Then again, they could let the entire conversation dissolve into quips and inside jokes—exactly how they lost the election for student body president and vice president back in junior year of high school. Valor couldn’t help but grin at the memory.

  “You can’t just introduce the team without any explanation,” one of the reporters complained. Valor didn’t know her by sight—she wasn’t someone who’d interviewed him before. “Is this sanctioned by the Governor? The President? Who are you affiliated with?”

  “You know, nobody asked me questions like that when I ran with Team Blue back in the eighties.” Doc winked for the assembly. Most people laughed, though the reporter who’d asked the question didn’t look happy.

  “Yes, but everyone knew Team Blue was formed as a result of The Cold War. You still haven’t explained the motive behind The Division.”

  Valor took back the mic from Doc. “Do we need to?” He meant it as a serious question. The mysterious portals and the killer robots that continued to emerge were certainly no secret.

  “So you’re not going to talk about the incursions from unknown alien forces?”

  “Yes, the team was formed to fight the portals. But I can’t answer anything more than that, because we just don’t know who’s behind them or what they want.” Valor held his hands out toward the crowd. “We’re just one group doing the best we can to protect innocent people. You can read all about it on our website.”

  There—that would make Socket happy, one last plug.

  The chairman stepped forward and reached for the microphone. “I’m sorry folks, but I’m going to request you save further questions for another time. Please let our guests mingle.”

  Valor flashed his “V” salute again as he descended the st
eps at the front of the stage. He stopped and posed for photos with the rest of the team, and then for some alone before the chairman gently guided them back into the crowd. This was a high-end event for people who paid a lot of money to hobnob with superheroes, so no one was so gauche as to ask him for an autograph. Instead, they all stood around chatting and drinking champagne. Valor dearly wanted something to drink, but the last thing he needed was to end up on the front page of The New York Times with something alcoholic in hand. People expected their heroes to be sober.

  He should make a list. Heroes had to be sober, cheerful, inspiring, and of course, straight. The slightest deviation would cause a scandal, and the media loved a good scandal. Valor had decided when he first put on a mask that he wouldn’t ever be on the cover of a tabloid. He’d be the hero everyone expected him to be.

  Socket melted to the back of the crowd as it dispersed when the press conference ended. Slipping his hand into his pocket he touched his smartphone, his fingers tingling as he made contact. The whisper started at the back of his brain as Socket interfaced with the device, riding its connection to the Internet. He monitored all the superhero message boards and online hangouts, and grinned with satisfaction when he saw that @SuperheroSightings had already started a #division hashtag on Twitter. Excellent.

  When he wasn’t at his monitors, Socket saw the information behind his eyelids, like the images were transposed there. He didn’t do it often, and as he stumbled into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne, it was obvious why. To cover, Socket took a crystal flute and nodded curtly at the disheveled server. He’d meant to do that.

  Disengaging from the net, he lifted the glass to his lips, but didn’t drink. He hadn’t touched alcohol since getting drunk at his mother’s grave. There might be some beer cooling upstairs in his fridge, but that was reserved for Valor. Maybe he could persuade Valor to come over afterward and order some real food. These little appetizers wouldn’t fill either of them up. Just to be sure, he sampled some shrimp from another server before ducking behind a pillar to continue to observe the crowd.

  “Excuse me. You’re Peter Barnes, aren’t you?” A voice came from behind him. Socket whirled to see a young woman with a shock of red hair, wearing a simple black dress with a press badge clipped to her sleeve. She had a slim notebook in one hand and gestured with a mechanical pencil. “The mind behind BarTec industries?”

  Nobody recognized him. That was one of the advantages of not going around in a colorful spandex costume. Socket was just a businessman as far as anyone else knew. What did a reporter want with him? “That’s what they tell me.”

  “Holly Hutton, with the Hutton News.”

  He slid his free hand into his pocket and accessed the net quickly. Holly Hutton. Daughter of Bill Hutton, owner of one of the news services that seemed to cover superheroes 24/7. She wrote for the site apparently, since Socket was given the option to link to her articles. With a little shake he disconnected and brought his attention back to the young woman in front of him. “That’s nice. If you’ll excuse me.” Socket gestured with his champagne and tried to move into the crowd to mingle.

  “A few questions, Mr. Barnes.” She followed him.

  “Yes, I’m gay. It’s the world’s worst kept secret.” Especially after he showed up in the special on gay businessmen in Coming Out magazine.

  She let out a little snort. “Thanks for the memo. No, I’m more curious as to why you’ve chosen this charity event to make a personal appearance. Does it have something to do with The Division?”

  Socket couldn’t help stiffening. Her words caught him off guard. “No, it has more to do with my assistant putting it on my schedule. Witnessing the announcement of a new superhero team was just a bonus.”

  “So you think it’s a good idea?”

  He forced himself to laugh. “Are you polling all the millionaires in the room? I don’t see why my opinion matters.” Socket wished he had Valor next to him. Valor knew how to deflect beautiful women. He’d have Miss Hutton charmed and on her merry way in no time.

  She made a face, narrowing those wide green eyes. “Maybe because your company hosts their webpage?”

  “BarTec’s ISP branch hosts a lot of websites. I don’t understand what you’re getting at here, Ms. Hutton.” Socket had to play this smart. He could feel sweat gathering at the back of his neck, and he tugged at the collar of his tux. His clothes felt too tight, and he wished he was back upstairs sitting in front of his monitors.

  She shrugged and tapped that damn pencil against her lips. “Running a superhero team costs a lot of money, don’t you think? Someone has to pay for their matching uniforms. You seem to have plenty to burn.”

  “Are you going to try that line on everyone here and see if it sticks?”

  “Well, no, because you’re the one who owns this building and who just happened to host tonight’s event. Combined with the website? Let’s just say I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Crap. What would Valor say? Socket tried smiling at her, although he was damn well sure his lips didn’t have the same effect as Valor’s handsome face. “I’m sorry to hear that, because really, this is just one big coincidence. BarTec is a technology company—we host websites. This building has this big empty reception space—so it gets rented out. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “What will I find if I keep digging, Mr. Barnes? Do you have any skeletons in your closet? How about your company’s connection to FlexiTech—the corporation that provides Blackjack’s equipment?”

  He knew he should have buried that subsidiary better. Socket couldn’t show her that she was rattling him. “I’m not really that interesting, Ms. Hutton. You don’t want to bore your readers, do you? Enjoy the event.”

  This was not the kind of thing he needed. Socket hired people to deal with reporters. He always fucked it up, which was why he never made public appearances. Even his product demonstrations were all pre-recorded. If Valor hadn’t pleaded for him to come in person, he would have been back in the base, conducting the press conference from his computer. Like always, Socket had caved for his best friend, and he didn’t even get to see Valor in a tux for his trouble.

  Socket kept smiling as he moved quickly into the crowd. His fingers tightened around the champagne flute he still held. Taking a sip, he made a face at the taste. When he got upstairs he’d plug in and hack into Hutton’s computer. She was smart—too smart—and he didn’t like the connections she made.

  “Nice work with plucky girl reporter.” Before Socket heard Doc Lightning he knew she was nearby by the way the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. Being around her was like constantly rubbing his feet on shag carpet.

  She’d been Socket’s first pick for the team. In terms of sheer power, there were few who could match her. Combined with her killer sense of humor, she was rapidly becoming one of Socket’s favorite people.

  “I’d like to know where she gets her information.”

  Doc gave him one of her crooked grins. She didn’t wear a mask—she’d been in this business for too long—longer than she’d been an actual doctor. “Reporters. They always know too much.”

  “Yeah, but when it comes to information, I’ve usually got a lock on it.” It had been a busy three weeks trying to get the base ready and the team together before the next drone attack. Socket admitted he might have let a few things slip through. All this and running BarTec—it was a wonder he had time to sleep.

  His gaze found Valor in the crowd, much like it often did. Valor never knew how much time Socket spent watching him. Of course, all eyes usually drifted to Valor, especially when the tall man laughed, throwing his head back and inviting all others in on the joke. He had a strong jaw, with full lips and dark curls that fell over his mask. Sometimes Socket wondered how anyone could not know Mitch was Valor, just from those boyish good looks that no mask could really hide.

  Socket frowned. “Who the hell invited her?”

  Mistress Liberty had approached Valor, standing out in t
he crowd in her red, white, and blue costume—short skirt, knee-high boots, and golden mask. The sea of people in eveningwear parted as she walked by.

  Even though Socket and Valor had intended tonight to be the introduction of The Division, other superheroes had also been invited to the charity event. Socket had been honest about that—he hadn’t organized it, merely taken advantage of an opportunity. Now he wished he’d perused the guest list a little more closely.

  “Liberty?” Doc followed his gaze. “Maybe she’s his date.”

  The press loved to link Valor and Liberty. It seemed nobody was happy without a super-powered couple in the news, and after Blackjack and Priestess broke up, there was little left to fill the gossip rags. “Not funny.”

  “I always wondered why you didn’t ask her to join The Division,” Doc said, “But from the green-eyed look you’re giving her I think I know why.”

  He snapped back to face Doc. “What?”

  “Sweetheart, remember I’ve been around for a long time. You’re a little obvious.” Doc shook her head. “Does he know?”

  “Oh…hell no.” Like Socket would ruin his friendship with the only person who’d been there for him his entire life. He’d survived all of Valor’s girlfriends, and he would survive this rumor of one as well. None of them ever lasted very long.

  “You only get one life, kid. When you get to be my age you realize that speaking up is the only way to get what you want. Otherwise, you end up old and alone.”

  Socket gave her a look. “You’re too young to be acting like a wise, old sage.”