| |
Roman expected a lot of things, but he didn’t expect to see Catherine, the Type III Class C from the Northern Alliance, waiting for him after work. He briefly recalled that she was a student at Southern Centralia, that she’d had a visa issue due to failing to enroll full-time that he’d fixed, and that’d she’d asked him out, but he’d declined.
Interesting, he thought as he stopped before her.
Catherine was a bit mousy with white hair, a strand of which was dyed red and braided behind her right ear. She wore the high-end fashion that was common in the North, where it was warmer, less overcast.
“A couple days ago you said something about coffee, to talk about being an immigration advisor. I mean, I could’ve had a telepath look you up, but I thought that would be inappropriate, so I figured I would come here and just wait for you to get off work. Shit. I hope this isn’t awkward. It’s definitely awkward, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine,” Roman said as he took in her form. There was a sexual predator in him that was hard to suppress once it showed its ugly head. Staring at the fit, slender rarity from the Northern Alliance was definitely sparking his interest. Not that it mattered, but he had never been with a Northern woman, and he didn’t think it would be difficult here.
After all, she’d come to him...
But he had a Heroes Anonymous class to get to, and two animated sex dolls waiting for him at home, on top of the fact that he was supposed to see about his wife tonight—and possibly see her for the last time. Plus there was Harper, who had sent him a flirty message earlier, and Paris, who would likely be at the Heroes Anonymous meeting.
He would have to throw this one back. Roman’s real life was a train wreck. He needed to sort some things out before he added another potential casualty.
“Look, you seem like a smart lady, and I would love to talk to you more about this position, and what you may encounter in the North, even with the more—pardon me in saying this—isolationist viewpoint the North has on immigration. But I’m absolutely swamped today. And probably will be for the next few days.”
She looked down at her feet, which were enshrined in cute ballet flats with buckles shaped like dragonflies. “It’s fine, I figured it would be a bad idea to show up like this. What can I say? I have an elemental ability that allows me to utilize the wind, and because of that, I can be sort of impulsive, also like the wind. At least this is what I tell myself.”
“It’s fine, next week. You and me. What do you say? I need to sort some things out first.”
“A meeting with a non-exemplar, huh?” she asked as a smile moved across her face.
“You’re the one that came to me,” Roman reminded her.
He could tell by the way she was smiling at him that she’d meant this in a funny way, yet at the back of his mind he did think it was odd that she would frame their relationship in this way. This was to be expected of an exemplar, just not in such a verbal manner.
“I’m a little superstitious... Okay, I’m really superstitious, and it feels like what I’m supposed to do,” said Catherine. “Does that make sense? My ex was a non-exemplar too. I’m attracted to them, apparently. Oops, I’m saying too much! So, get in touch with me next week; let me know a day ahead of time. I’m giving you permission to contact me now, so do with it what you will.”
Roman started to crack a grin, and by the time he could bring his hand up to his chin to consider how odd this incident had been, she was gone. And her disappearing act had been fast, too. The bottom half of her body had vaporized and zipped away in a tornado, the rest of her form dissipating in an instant.
Roman shook his head as he walked to the trolley.
There would be more time to deal with the wind-powered super named Catherine, but that time would be later.
He had more pressing matters.
“There is nothing about me that is extraordinary. I am not a hero. I am not a superhero. I am half-powered. I will always be half-powered. I am a non-exemplar.”
The big half-powered named Bill smiled at all the fresh faces in the audience. Roman stood beside him, the first to be called to the podium to tell his sad tale. Since all the people were new aside from the sex-doll guy named Sam, Bill wanted to start off the Heroes Anonymous meeting with something familiar, a fact that bothered Roman because, like most of these meetings, he didn’t want to be there.
And his one incentive for coming to these meetings, possibly meeting women, had been nullified by the fact that there weren’t any in attendance.
“My name is Roman Martin and I’m not a hero,” he said to the group. “I’ve been coming to these meetings for a while now, and I wish I could say that a few of you have heard my story, but I don’t recognize any of your faces, aside from you, sex-doll guy.”
“Sam.”
“Hi, Sam, great story the other day.” Sam waved at some of the others, proud to be called out, which wasn’t quite what Roman had been hoping for. “Show of hands, who’s new here?”
To confirm what Bill had already told him, six of the seven attendees raised their hands.
“Yeah, so welcome, and I hope this program is as meaningful to you as it has been to me. I want time for each of you to be able to tell your story, so I’ll make mine quick.” Roman paused for moment, figuring out how he would frame this.
“I, um, was convinced I had the power to seduce women into having sex with me. An increased charm, Type IV, Class C by my estimates.”
A few of the men in attendance chuckled. Bill scowled as Roman continued:
“To elaborate, I thought I had this power to adjust pheromone levels and make women want me. So, I walked around like a rooster, my chest out, my white hair slicked back, whistling my own tune, thinking it was my power that was getting me so much tail, not the fact that I’m a relatively handsome guy, fit too, who can be charming given the right type of wine.”
“Roman,” Bill started to warn him.
“Heroes Anonymous is no joke, and lying to people is a bad thing. And this is how I ended up at an exemplars-only resort in eastern Centralia, near the border to the Eastern Province. I had a friend who worked at the registration office and was able to have my ID modified, so I figured I would pick up some hot supers using my charm power.”
Roman shook his head bitterly.
“I guess you could say I was just playing the role, convinced of my own power. I met this one super, a Type III, that had the power to multiply herself. If you’re thinking crazy orgy, you’d be thinking correctly.”
Bill dropped his head into his hand. “Dammit, Roman.”
“That’s right,” Roman said, ignoring Bill. “Everything was going well with not two but four of her clones until her friend showed up, who happened to be a Class A, a telepath, who quickly realized I was just a regular guy, a non-exemplar like all of you. Show me a telepath who isn’t clever, and I’ll show you someone who isn’t a telepath. This telepath was the ultimate cock block. She knew instantly that I was a fake, but she didn’t reveal it to her friend, nor did she do anything about it at first.”
Concern flitted across a few of the faces in the small audience. Everyone knew what a telepath could do to someone, and an unhappy telepath was even worse.
“The thing about lying is—for me, personally—once I start, I can’t stop. It’s a weird addiction, to see how far you can go, how close to the truth you can tread. And by that, I mean when you yourself start believing a lie—like how at the time, I actually believed I had some control over women. I had fallen for my own lie. And I didn’t have this power, obviously. I wouldn’t be here if I had it. If I were an exemplar like the ones at that resort, I wouldn’t be standing before you telling my sad tale.”
Bill crossed his arms over his chest.
“Almost done, big guy. Anyway, I kept parading around like I was an exemplar, and even though the multiplier never asked me what my power was, which is a little taboo sometimes with other exemplars, I could tell she had wondered what I could do. And the telepath wasn’t giving me away, at least not yet, which would’ve made things a lot easier for me in the long run. She was just watching me make out with and undress the multiplier’s clones.
“The law of Centralia states that if you are a non-exemplar, like Bill over here, like you, like me, you cannot misrepresent yourself as an exemplar. There is a clear difference between us, a line that segregates who we are based on our abilities.”
A few in the crowd nodded; one man simply looked down at his hands, shaking his head.
“Exemplars lead a different life than us, we all know that. They have different jobs, live in arguably better parts of the city, experience things we will never experience. They’re better off, you and I both know that. And what non-exemplar wouldn’t want to experience those things? When the ‘outside looking in’ isn’t just a state of mind, what do you do? Who wants to be half-powered?”
Roman sighed. Even though he was making his story up, it was starting to affect him. What he’d just said about non-exemplars being envious of exemplars was true, and now that he was on the cusp of becoming an exemplar, it was even truer.
He didn’t know how long it would be until Ava approved his exemplar status, but once she did, he would be in a completely different world than he currently existed in. He could sell his apartment, he could take a job doing something exciting, he could completely change his life.
And as Roman stood there in front of the group of poor souls, poor souls no different than he’d been just days ago, he simply ran out of lies to tell. The lie that had been unfolding, the one he’d made up on the spot, had lost its manufactured veracity.
It had petered out, crashed into a wall, drowned in its own bullshit. Died.
And this was how Roman found himself standing there, a captive audience in front of him, unable to continue his lie. He tried to excuse himself, but Bill stopped him, the big man stepping before him and telling him he should finish.
“Interesting story,” Bill said under his breath, clearly pissed off, “and now you have to finish it.”
Bill didn’t usually bully people at these meetings, but Roman had seen him step up from time to time when the situation called for it. And he never would’ve thought of questioning Bill before, or getting in the big man’s way, but now that he had power—now that Roman was on the cusp of being an exemplar—a small part of him imagined animating the podium and having it attack Bill.
Of course, he swallowed this down before he could act on it.
You’re too close, he reminded himself.
“Sorry, everyone,” Roman said as he stepped back up to the podium.
“Where was I? That’s right, the telepath, the multiplier’s friend. Has anyone in this room ever had their mind flayed by a telepath?”
He looked around to see everyone shaking their heads.
“It isn’t pretty, and aside from attending these meetings—just kidding, Bill—it was one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me. All this to say: I was caught with my pants down.”
Roman gulped, pausing for more emphasis.
“I suddenly saw everyone, all the multiplier’s clones, as some type of demon ghosts. I was running around, screaming and breaking things, punching at anyone and anything in my vicinity. And this was in a resort full of exemplars, so needless to say, my mania got shut down very quickly.
“In the end, I was arrested. I had three ribs broken, all the bones in my right arm shattered. There was a Type II in the room next door, an aggressive one at that, and that’s on top of the psychological attack the telepath levied on me. The point of my story is this: Be who you are, and don’t try to be anyone else, lest you end up at an exemplar resort having your bones snapped by a brute of a man who has deemed you hostile.”
Roman stepped back from the podium.
“Thank you for that.” Bill placed his hands around the sides of the podium and looked out at the few who had gathered at the Heroes Anonymous meeting. “Roman is right: you should only be who you are, and no one else. Also, Roman, stick around after. I want to talk to you a bit more about your story.”
