Not Your Villain (Sidekick Squad #2)(19)

“Good job, dear,” Dorothy says.

Bells picks up the cat and smiles for the camera.

Bells is officially inducted into the League on a Monday afternoon. He doesn’t get to meet Captain Orion, but she recorded a message for him in which she waves and welcomes him to the Heroes’ League of Heroes. As the audience applauds, Bells smiles. He’s not entirely sure who all of them are. He thought there would be other people from the League, but apparently they all had other commitments. According to Harris, they “send their best wishes.” Bells also has messages from Arête, Bellevue, Starscream, and Lilliputian. He’s already watched each message five times. If only he could tell Emma and Jess; they’d be hysterical over a personalized message from one of their favorites.

Bells doesn’t recognize many members of the Associated League, but of course he knows Andover’s celebrated hero team, Smasher and Shockwave. They always seemed larger-than-life; standing next to them is surreal. Bells is taller than both of them.

Smasher’s hair is coiled into a neat bun, and her half mask doesn’t move, but the tiny folds beside her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “Congratulations, welcome to the League!”

She sounds very familiar. He shakes the notion away and holds out his hand. “Hi, hi, it’s so nice to meet you!”

Smasher’s grip is tight, and Bells squeezes back, trying to match the force.

“Are you sure you don’t have superstrength?” Smasher asks, laughing.

“Pretty sure,” Bells chuckles.

Shockwave scrutinizes him. “How old are you, kid?”

“Sixteen.” Bells still can’t believe he’s hanging out with two heroes he’s looked up to forever. “You two are amazing. That time you captured Master Mischief in the bubbles, that was hilarious. And Smasher, when you picked up that bridge in New Bright City!”

“Oh, thank you, you’re so sweet. That wasn’t in my territory, so probably best not to mention it in front of the League reps.”

Shockwave beams and slings his arm around Smasher’s shoulder. “So, newest member of the League, I hear you’re in our area?”

“Ah, yes, Devonport,” Bells says.

Shockwave nods. “We could take you around, show you the ropes! Maybe team up against the Mischiefs?”

Bells grins. “That sounds great, but I’m not supposed to mess with your territory. I’m kind of Andover-adjacent, mostly floating around wherever the League needs me until I establish my own space. Besides, I think the two of you have been doing a great job of keeping the Mischiefs in check—I haven’t even seen anything in the news about them for a while!”

Shockwave and Smasher trade glances.

“Yes, thank you. It was lovely to meet you, Chameleon,” Smasher says with a kind smile. “Hopefully we’ll see each other soon. We’re going to go say hello to Echo, excuse us.”

“Of course.” Bells steps aside.

He holds his soda awkwardly while the adults drink their wine and champagne and mingle.

“Chameleon! What a splendid start for you, boy,” an oily voice says to Bells’ right.

“Hello,” Bells says.

He looks familiar, but Bells doesn’t remember how he knows him. The man has a thick wave of styled brown hair and very even, white teeth that sparkle in the dim light of the room. He’s wearing a stylish suit with the crest of the North American Collective pinned to his lapel. It’s the Council’s elected President of the Central Regions of the NAC, Lowell Kingston. The man is smaller in person, less vibrant, and his carefully tanned skin takes on a sickly hue in the dim light.

“Lowell Kingston,” he says smoothly, shaking Bells’ hand with a wide, practiced grin. “And you’re the soon-to-be famous Chameleon, of course, wonderful, absolutely wonderful to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, President Kingston,” Bells says. He racks his brain for something to say. Kingston represents one of the Eastern regions, right? Which one? Brighton? Hopestar? Didn’t Captain Orion recently get her hair cut in in Hopestar?

Kingston keeps shaking his hand and edges closer. “Look at the camera, son.”

“Which one?” Bells jokes; he’s seen five roving camera people filming the festivities.

At the flash of light in front of them, Kingston smiles amiably and squeezes Bells’ hand. “A jokester, that may come in handy,” Kingston says. “The people love to see personalities. I trust you’re getting along well with your League rep?”

Something tells Bells that now is not the time to joke about Harris. “Yeah, he's great.”

“Excellent, excellent. You’re going to be a credit to the League; I can tell. I hear you’re going to start combat training,” Kingston says, lifting his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’m pretty excited.”

The assignment is to shift into Jetstream, a minor C-class villain in Santa Barbara, and then fight with Aerodraft. The coastal hero’s fans have been losing interest ever since they took Jetstream to Meta-Human Corrections a year ago, so sparring with them will build public morale and allow Bells to develop his hand-to-hand combat skills.

“Good, good,” Kingston says, clapping a meaty hand on Bells’ shoulder. “These things may seem small to you now, son, but it’s all part of the process. We’ll make a hero of you yet.”