Not Your Villain (Sidekick Squad #2)(8)
Bells looks up… and up… and up. The city is actually built into the trees. He gasps at the sturdy trees that tower over everything. Sleek metal buildings wrap around the tree trunks and disappear into the clouds. Walkways connect the buildings, and many mechanized lifts rise into the trees, carrying people to the upper levels. Bells is fascinated.
He shakes himself; he doesn’t have time to be a tourist. He’s only got about ten minutes before the League representative is supposed to pick him up. Well, a version of him.
Bells rushes along the platform and finds a bathroom; he’s relieved to discover it empty. He needs to shift into the physical form he uses as a trainee.
He had qualms about lying to the League at first. His parents worried that giving the Department of Meta-Human Regulations his real name and identity would be dangerous, not just for the Broussards and their underground business, but because no one in their family had ever presented with any meta-abilities. Every meta-human ever registered with the Collective had a parent, or grandparent, or great-aunt, or someone in their family tree with meta-human abilities. All the published research on the meta-gene catalyzed by the flare in 2028 shows that everyone with powers now are all descendants of meta-humans from that time.
Bells’ parents said anything was possible and that he couldn’t be the only one without a traceable legacy, but would he be studied, like a specimen? At the least, it would mean extra surveillance, a bad idea when you run an underground food distribution network.
So, Bells came up with a plan: He’d shift into a completely different physical form and register as a meta-human with a new citizen identification number and name. There would be no record of Bells Broussard having any meta-abilities.
Some people at the academy wear masks to protect their secret identities and some don’t care if people know who they are, but Bells takes disguise to another level. He stares at his reflection as he completely changes his face: His eyebrows become more prominent, his nose gets a bit longer, and his cheekbones sharpen. His stylish purple hair transforms into a straightforward buzz cut.
Barry Carmichael. Bells’ disguise is another Black teenaged boy whose face is the result of careful research, hours of poring over movies and holos, and blending various movie stars. He’s just good-looking enough to be disarming, but with forgettable features, unlike Bells’ own extremely handsome and memorable face.
Eh, maybe Barry is a bit too nondescript. Bells lets a tuft of hair go purple and clicks his tongue in satisfaction.
On his DED, Bells brings up the program Simon installed so it works with an alternative citizen number. A programmer in Grassroots helped him create the Barry identity, complete with home address, school records, and everything.
Back at the platforms, Bells looks for the uniformed Collective officer who will take him to the training center.
“Barry!”
Bells grins when he spots Christine, one of his friends from training. She’s wearing a long, flowing skirt and a tightened bodice over a blouse. It’s probably one of her own designs. Christine’s power is fabric transmutation, making cloth into anything she pleases. Last summer, she confided in him that her powers were rated lower than D-class. Christine wouldn’t be at Meta-Human Training if her parents hadn’t made a sizeable donation to the League, but Bells is glad she’s here. Even if the League thinks the ability to create and modify clothes wouldn’t be formidable in battle, Bells thinks it’s incredibly useful and cool. Christine’s creations are permanent, whereas Bells’ transformations disappear as soon as he’s not using his power.
Christine beams at him. Bells laughs as she pirouettes forward, holding her skirts and spinning around. “Hey, I missed you on the train!” She lives in Vegas; they usually take the train together.
“Ricky and I had a compartment to ourselves,” she says, winking at him.
“Of course,” Bells says, rolling his eyes. “And how is our favorite disappearing act? Has he managed to stay in the visible plane during your make-out sessions?”
Christine clutches her hands to her face, and her blonde curls shake as she laughs. “No!”
“Pierce. Carmichael.”
Bells recognizes the firm voice: Dylan, the officer who collected them last year. They’re wearing the sleek gray uniform of Collective officials, as well as a pinched, tired look on their face. Dylan glances at Christine and Bells, flicks through a holo on their DED, and checks them off with a carefully blank expression. “Come along. The others are already here.”
“And how are you, Dylan?”
“Fine. Let’s move quickly. The two of you are going to put us off schedule.” Dylan sets a brisk pace, and Bells catches Christine’s eye. He’d tried to engage Dylan in conversation last year, too, but the official never warmed to him. It’s all business with the officials and coaches at the training center. They’re here to teach control and how to efficiently use powers, not to chitchat.
It’s a pity. Bells has three, tree-related puns, and Dylan’s going to miss out on all of them.
Christine’s two heavy suitcases beep and whir as they hover behind her, following her through the station. Bells keeps bumping into the mechanized suitcases as they walk; he’s so distracted by Aerial City: the people, the buildings, the trees.
“Ready for another amazing summer?”
Bells laughs. “Of course!”