Chapter 29

              While all that happens on Earth, Zorb has returned to his ship, and is being carried to the medical bay by M1.

            “Careful with him,” Zita says as she follows behind.

            They walk inside the sterile room and Zita goes to the larger panel on the wall. She presses the first button to power everything up then she presses the fifth button. The frame for the tub comes out of the floor, and it fills with water at the same time. M1 helps Zorb stand while he takes off the bloody shirt, dirt stained pants and even shoes, socks and underwear. M1 then helps Zorb hop up and into the tub to soak in the ice cold water.

            “Ah! Ah…” Zorb says as he settles into the tub. “Much better…”

            Zita presses a button for the tub’s surgery machinery.

            “Just hold still,” Zita tells Zorb. “It’ll administer the numbing agent first.”

            The tub stretches so that Zorb can recline a bit more. Then a robotic arm comes out with a hypodermic needle. It pokes Zorb in the side of the leg and injects the special pain reliever serum.

            “Ow,” he says flatly. “Good thing it poked me in the good leg.”

            While other robotic arms come out to inspect Zorb’s damaged leg, Zita gathers his clothes.

            “So much blood,” she mutters.

            “Well you’re the one who shot him,” Zorb says while the arms poke and prod him.

            “What?” Zita says as she presses another button.

            The washing machine comes out of the wall and Zita puts everything but the shoes inside. Water fills the machine, and with the help of nanomachines, the blood and other contaminants are removed from the fabric.

            “The blood is all over my clothes because you shot him,” he says. “So, why’re you surprised?”

            “Zorb,” Zita says. “I didn’t shoot The Spektrum. I wasn’t even on the ground. I was up here watching. It was really hard to watch you lose, but I didn’t go down there and shoot someone.”

            Zorb and Zita have always been honest with each other, so this was not a lie. What reason would there be to lie about it, anyway?

            “But then, who shot him?” M1 asks.

            Zorb and Zita were actually surprised he spoke up. They both apparently forgot he was there.

            “That’s a good question, big red,” Zorb says. “Though I’m not sure if I’d thank that person or not for what they did.”

            “Why not?” M1 asks. “He did you a favor and killed the guy.”

            “Yes, but he robbed me of my victory,” Zorb counters. “If anyone should have gotten rid of that kid, it should’ve been one of us.”

            “You have such a strange code of honor,” Zita sighs. “M1, you can go ahead and join the others. I can handle it from here.”

            M1 nods and leaves the room. Zita checks the status of the medical tub. It finishes scanning Zorb, and shows his quadriceps tore at the hip.

            “I was afraid that’s where the tear was,” Zita says. “You’ll barely be able to walk after it’s repaired.”

            “It’ll be fine,” Zorb says. “There won’t be any rush to get back down to Earth if Spektrum’s gone.”

            “Seriously? What about our plans?”

            “I know, I know. We can still do all that. But, something about the kid dying that way just seems wrong.”

            Zorb thinks back on the relatively short time he’s known this “Spektrum”, the young human male with strange abilities. He was the first opponent to frustrate Zorb. Zorb thought he had assembled quite the team with his original crew, but this human of all creatures is what defeated them. The Masqueraders are impressive, but not even Zorb was confident enough to say they would’ve won had those soldiers not appeared. Zorb himself was on the verge of defeat just now. It truly upset Zorb that some lone gunman took away the conclusion.

            The washing machine blinking snaps Zorb out of his deep thought.

            “Expel contaminants?” the robotic voice asks.

            “Finally,” Zita mutters as she walks back over.

            “Wait,” Zorb says as Zita is about to press the affirmative button. “Don’t expel them. At least, not the blood.”

            “What?” Zita asks back. “Why would you want to keep the blood?”

            “Because we spared the Geneticist, remember?”

            Zita remembers back to that day almost a year ago, when they crossed paths with a very strange scientist with very controversial research.

            “Oh…! I see. I’ll go ahead and call him then.”

            “I knew you’d understand,” Zorb says with a smile.

 

            Back on Earth, Simon, Cyndi and his friends turn the corner to Simon’s home, just as he finished telling them the story of the four California members of Power Surge helping then fighting Tyler “Tiger” Garrett.

            “What a piece of crap,” Cyndi says in reference to Tiger and his attempted sexual assault.

            “That’s putting it nicely,” Michelle says.

            “This Reciprocity Inc. is that shady, huh?” Bryan asks.

            “It seems so,” Simon says. “They’re helping someone crooked like Tiger, giving free range to a real-life killing machine, and they have their own soldiers trained not to care when they shoot in a school zone. I can’t trust them.”

            “But, are you going to let them still think you’re dead?” Alex asks. “I mean, you’re obviously not, so maybe you could let them know you’re alive and they can back off a bit or something.”

            “I dunno,” Simon says. “They’re public now. They can’t just take all that back.”

            “But you could still return tomorrow or something, right?” Alex says. “The Spektrum could show up at school and show the world that he’s still alive.”

            “I guess so. And if anyone questions who I am, I’ll just show them the same tricks I did that cosplayer.”

            Everyone smiles and nods as they like the sound of that plan. Simon’s friends say bye and head off in the different directions of their homes while Cyndi hangs back with Simon. He turns to say something to her, but she surprises him with another hug. She cries and sniffles into his shoulder, and he isn’t sure what to do with that. He tentatively puts his arms around her, and whispers, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

            “You’re right,” she says as she loosens her hold. “It is okay. You’re alive. It’s some kind of miracle that you are.”

            “Yeah,” he says. “It is. It really is.”

            The two of them stand there quietly as they look into each other’s eyes. Both of them are really happy, but both of them are also really nervous.

            “So, um,” he says, “do… Do I…? Or…?”

            Cyndi giggles before moving in closer again. She can see Simon turning red, but she focuses on his deep brown eyes. He gulps but calms himself down as she slowly raises her lips towards his.

            *Dudu dudu, dudu dudu* A ringtone interrupts the moment and kills the mood.

            “Sorry…” Cyndi sighs as she pulls her phone out. “Of course it’s my mother.”

            Cyndi takes a step back as she answers.

            “Yes, mom?” she says. “The school? Oh, right, of course it made the news. No, I’m fine. Yes, I’m fine. I’m on my way home, actually, because school let out early after everything that happened. Don’t worry about coming home early, I’ll be fine. Okay, see you later. Bye.”

            Cyndi hangs up her phone and puts it away.

            “Well,” she says, feeling awkward. “Moms, right?”

            “Yeah,” he chuckles.

            “So,” she says, still feeling awkward.

            “So…” he says, feeling just as awkward. “I… guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            “Yes!” Cyndi says. “Tomorrow, and the return of The Spektrum with it!”

            “Right,” he says. “See you then.”

            Cyndi smiles and heads down the road. She keeps looking back at him while she goes, but eventually focuses completely one walking forward as she crosses a street. Meanwhile, Simon continues down the street and back home. With everyone else either at work or at school, Simon takes the time to set everything down and just sleep off the exhaustion from this long day.

 

            Simon wakes some hours later, and can already hear the rest of the family in the living room and kitchen. He rolls over to see his clock saying 5:02 PM, and is immediately shocked that he just napped for about three hours like it was nothing. Simon forces himself up and out of bed, and he sleepily staggers into the light of the lamp by the couch.

            “Good timing,” his dad says. “Mom’s almost done with dinner.”

            Simon sniffs the air and smells one of his favorite foods.

            “Torta,” he says with a soft smile.

            “I’m surprised the chopping didn’t wake you,” his dad says. “You must’ve been out cold. Your brothers said you were asleep even when they got home.”

            “Yeah, school ended the day early given… everything that happened. I think I got back around 2, so, yeah I really was tired.”

            “I can imagine,” his dad says, a little nervous.

            Simon turns the corner to see his mother walking out of the kitchen while wiping her hands with a towel.

            “Hey, Simon,” she says. “Did you sleep well?”

            “Yeah,” he says as he stretches a bit more.

            He then gives his mom a hug, which surprises her.

            “Oh,” she says. “Well. Dinner’s pretty much ready, unless you want to wait for the noodles.”

            “That’s okay,” he says. “I’ll just stick to torta.”

            Simon grabs himself a plate and goes to the rice in the pot. He scoops himself rice then uses the spatula to lift the torta off the platter and onto his rice. His mom looks at his dad curiously, but he simply shrugs.

            “So, um,” she says as she tries to start a conversation with Simon. “I suppose you didn’t know the identity of The Spektrum, did you?”

            Simon slows down as he pulls out silverware from the drawer.

            “I know he wasn’t any of my friends.”

            Simon gets away with the lie because that’s technically not a lie.

            “Well, whoever he was,” his mom says, “I think we should say a prayer for him and his family.”

            “Right, of course,” he says as he sets his plate down.

            Simon pours himself a glass of milk while he glances past his mom at his dad. His dad looks back and signals with the “zipped lip” motion, meaning he hasn’t told mom anything. Simon’s relieved, and puts the milk back in the fridge.

            Simon’s mom calls to his brothers down the hall, and they hurry into the kitchen. They get their food, as do their parents, and then all five sit in the living room and watch television.

            “Hold on,” mom says as she mutes the television. “Let’s say that prayer.”

            “What prayer?” James asks.

            “For The Spektrum, whoever he was,” mom explains, “and his family, wherever they are.”

            Everyone agrees, closes their eyes, and dad begins.

            “Dear Lord, we thank you for this day, and for this food we are about to eat. We pray that that young man who was killed today finds peace. And that his family holds strong after having lost their son. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

            “Amen,” Simon echoes with his family.

            Everyone looks up and digs into their meals while mom unmutes the TV.

            “--President will address the nation in a matter of moments,” a news anchor says. “The subject will surely be about the developments with California’s teenage superhero, The Spektrum, the loss of his life, and the reveal of Reciprocity Incorporated.”

            “Reciprocity?” dad says. “I thought it was Anon-”

            “*Ahem*,” Simon clears his throat to signal to his dad.

            “A non what?” mom asks.

            “Uh, nothing,” dad says quickly. “Maybe I just misheard something somewhere.”

            The camera transitions to President Csuja in his Oval Office, seated at his desk.

            “My fellow Americans,” President Csuja begins. “It saddens me to learn of the tragedy in California. It would appear that the young man known as ‘The Spektrum’ was shot and killed while protecting his school from the apparent space invader known as ‘Zorb.’ I cannot present to you a conclusion on who shot The Spektrum or why, but an investigation is underway. I can only offer my condolences, as well as my thoughts and prayers to his family.

            “This entire thing, from space aliens to superpowered individuals to a covert organization willingly coming into the light, certainly feels like science fiction and comic book stories come to life. We live in a time that has no precedent on what we should do or what to expect. Therefore, as the American President facing such unprecedented times, I must move forward carefully, keeping an open mind and a willingness to accept help and advice on these issues.

            “Which brings me to my other matter of business. I have seen the video, and I have met with the man himself. Mr. Darklite and I talked extensively this evening here in Washington D.C, and have come to an understanding. Reciprocity Incorporated has been the ally of The Spektrum and others like him around the nation.”

            As the President says this, Simon in San Leandro, Zoey in Alameda, Seth and Jeff in Santa Cruz, Hayden Walters in Cleveland, Alan in Detroit, Randy and Vince in Red Oak, Sophia in Seattle, Howie in Brooklyn, and even Tyler in his hotel in Miami, feel a mix of anxiety and a little pride.

            “Mr. Darklite and I therefore came to an agreement,” President Csuja continues. “As of 6:15 PM Eastern Standard Time, I approved Reciprocity Incorporated as independent contractors to work together with the United States Government in all facets. Reciprocity Incorporated will strengthen our military, our infrastructure, but especially in the matter of establishing a relationship with the various superpowered individuals, both known and unknown, wherever they might be in the world.

            “Further more, the United States would like to introduce Mr. Darklite and his affiliates to the rest of the world. I will personally go with Mr. Darklite to New York and arrange a meeting between him and the ambassadors at the United Nations to see if we can all come to an agreement to help Reciprocity Incorporated and have Reciprocity Incorporated help us. 

            “If there are more of these superpowered citizens in other countries, Reciprocity Incorporated will happily help them as they helped The Spektrum and others for everyone’s safety. The holidays are almost upon us, but I do hope that the other leaders of the world understand the importance of this issue and will do everything within their power to aid us in resolving this. Thank you, and God bless.”

            With that, the broadcast ends, and channels return to their local news stations.

            Just about everyone watching this is quite surprised. Simon especially feels like his head is spinning. The truly shady “shadow organization” he’d only gotten to know the last couple of weeks was suddenly now the public face for Team Power Surge, approved by the American President and seen as some kind of heroic group that was secretly fighting the good fight. And it’s all happening because he, The Spektrum, “died”.

            In fact, that’s seems rather suspicious. How did Reciprocity get a stream going so quickly? Simon knows they basically watch everything he does as The Spektrum, however that works. Did they scramble to get a camera on Darklite at their secret headquarters? Were they going to debut publicly had The Spektrum NOT been shot and just adjusted their script after he was?

            “Simon, are you alright?” his mother asks. “You’re starting to look pale.”

            “Huh? Oh, uh, I dunno, maybe I’m coming down with something.”

            “Oh? Maybe that’s why you were tired today. You should get to bed a bit earlier this time, just in case.”

            “Maybe.”

            Or maybe I’m just sick of the idea that our country is basically making a deal with the devil, he thought to himself.

 

            Meanwhile, the other Power Surge members deal with their own conversations about this breaking news.

            “I may have had my disagreements with the President’s policies,” Mr. Mizaki says while pointing his fork around, “but y’know what? I think he’s doing the right thing here. We need to be very careful.”

            “Yes, of course,” Mrs. Mizaki says. “The schools aren’t as safe as they used to be. San Leandro High, that school in Michigan, and even our own Encinal High with the gangs, that shark monster, and even that orange juice guy. It’s only by a miracle there hasn’t been a shooting here yet.”

            Zoey can barely sit still as her parents talk about this while they all eat. She’s still reeling from The Spektrum’s death, and now Anonymous Inc. isn’t even Anonymous Inc. anymore. Her friends are texting her about this, too, and she has to carefully reply back so that her mother doesn’t see her on her phone at the table. Zoey can sense things will be changing very soon, and it’s a bit frightening.

           

            In Miami, a phone call came in as Tyler finished preparations for going out on the town. He picks up the phone, and recognizes the number as belonging to the group formerly known as Anonymous Inc. He sighs, but still answers.

            “Yeah?” he says.

            “Ah, there you are, Mr. Garrett,” Mr. Darklite says.

            “Oh, Mr. Darklite, sir,” Tyler says back, feeling nervous. “What’s the occasion? Need another favor from my father even after getting the President to be a friend?”

            “No, no, that’s not why I’m calling,” Darklite says with a chuckle. “Not at all. Though, since you say that, I suppose you’ve seen the news sometime today.”

            “Yeah, just finished watching the President’s address,” Tyler says, holding the phone with his head and shoulder while working on his wristwatch. Reciprocity Incorporate’s moving on up in the world.”

            “Yes, yes we are. But, I think we both know what I’m really asking.”

            Tyler stops fiddling with his jewelry and takes his phone back into his hand.

            “The Spektrum being shot and killed,” Tiger says.

            “Exactly. I sure hope after your… falling out with him during your little Las Vegas adventure, you wouldn’t try to get revenge on him.”

            “Really? You think I would want revenge on some commoner scrub who isn’t even worth scrubbing my toilet? Because if you think that, then you’re right. But no, I didn’t. I’m not a shooter, I would never be able to make a shot like that, not in a hundred years. But that’s also because I’d be more direct. If I was going to get revenge on him, I’d dig my claws into him and rip him apart like paper.”

            Tyler feels his tiger teeth coming out, and calms himself down so that he returns to being fully human.

            “So then, you weren’t the one who killed him?” Darklite asks.

            “No,” Tyler groans. “I’ve been in Miami all day. You can check social media and stuff. In fact, you might see me on other social media very soon, I’m about to head to a party.”

            “Sorry for keeping you, then,” Darklite says. “But, make sure your calendar is open for Wednesday, I have something I need to talk to everyone about.”

            “Wednesday? Yeah, alright, fine. See you then.”

            Tyler hangs up first, puts his phone away, and walks out into the hotel hallway. From there, he has two tanned and pouty-lipped ladies waiting to walk with him arm in arm to the elevator. He looks up their long legs and to their short skirts that barely cover anything, and licks his lips as he smiles ear to ear.

 

            And in Brooklyn, Howie “Homeboy” Holmes sits with Mikey “Hood Rat” and “Big Green” Gerald as they eat pizza in the diner, watching the news on the TV up in the corner.

            “Damn, son,” Mikey says. “Shot in the back, no warning.”

            “Seen that a lot out here,” Gerald says. “Never thought it’d happen in some Cali suburb.”

            “That’s cuz the world’s going to Hell, man,” Mikey says. “Slowly but surely.”

            “That’s a bit pessimistic, bruh,” Gerald says.

            “A dude just got shot and died, G, what’s there to be not pessimistic about?”

            “I guess,” Gerald shrugs as he takes another slice. “What about you, Haitch?”

            Both Gerald and Mikey look to Howie off to the side. He sighs, no longer all that hungry.

            “I can’t be sure what to think,” he says as he pushes his plate away. “This whole thing’s crazy, but I know what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna keep fighting this fight here, in our city. It’s what any hero does. The Spektrum did it and yeah he died, but again, it’s what any hero does. He fought to protect his city. Hell, he fought to help me protect this city. So that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna fight for this city, my city, no matter what happens. How does that sound to you two?”

            Mikey and Gerald look at their life long friend, and have never felt more inspired or proud. They nod in agreement, silently vowing to support their friend in this fight to the very end.