Part I
When I told my girlfriend Electra about my impending criminal activities, I didn’t get quite the reaction I expected.
“I’m in,” she said, with almost no hesitation. A natural beauty with straight, dark hair, she obviously had no problem being decisive.
The response was the same from my best friend, Smokescreen.
“You can’t leave me out,” Smokey said. As an empath, I sensed that he felt almost cheerful about it, (even though I typically ignore the feelings of those around me).
We were sitting around the dining room table at Smokey’s house at the time – a cozy, two-story affair in a mostly middle-class neighborhood. His parents were having a date night, and since he was the only kid still living at home, we had the place to ourselves. That made it perfect for letting them know what I intended to do. (I had briefly considered telling them a few days earlier at my house, but I lived with two world-class telepaths. Although my mother and grandfather usually don’t read other people’s thoughts, I was afraid that – after I told them what I was planning – Electra and Smokey might be so distressed that their thoughts would be an open invitation to any psychic in shouting distance.)
Apparently, I needn’t have worried, because both were clearly on board with what I was planning, although that was never my intention.
“Look,” I said to both of them. “My telling you wasn’t an invitation to tag along. I told you so that someone would know what had happened to me if this thing goes sideways.”
“Well, you said it was the same guys who tried to kill us at the Academy,” Smokey responded. “So I’m interested in a little payback.”
The Academy was (emphasis on was ) our school – a training ground for future superheroes. Just a few weeks earlier, an allegedly rogue government agent named Schaefer infected the students there with a potentially lethal virus that also affected their powers. Long story short, the Academy ended up being destroyed – to put it mildly – but most of the students survived. My friend Adam Atom wasn’t so lucky, and I curled my fist in anger just thinking about it.
“I understand how you feel, but this isn’t a vendetta we’re talking about,” I said, voicing words contrary to what I actually felt. “It’s a rescue operation – an extraction.”
In essence, the organization that Schaefer had worked for was not only still in operation, but possibly the most powerful government agency on the planet. They had previously attempted to literally snatch me off the street, and they might have been successful but for some help I received from a ten-year-old psychic girl named Rudi. She and her brother Josh were being held by that same organization, as part of a black ops program called “Chamomile,” but I had sworn to Rudi that I would get them out. The time had come to make good on that promise.
“But what if you get caught, Jim?” Electra asked. “Then I’m stuck waiting forty years for you to come up for parole.”
“You’d wait for me?” I asked with a sly smile.
Electra groaned. “Just show us the blueprints and schematics again.”
I laid the requested documents out on the table, holding a couple of them down telekinetically when it seemed like they wanted to roll back up like the tube they had come in. They referred to the secret facility where Rudi and her brother were being held. Every page was stamped with phrases like “Classified,” “Top Secret,” and “Eyes Only” in huge, glaring letters. There was also some small print on the bottom of each that said something about fines and prison for misuse, as well as wrongful possession and retention, but I saw no need to make mention of that.
“Are you sure this is where they’re being held?” Smokey asked.
“I’d stake my life on it,” I answered.
I’d gotten the documents from Braintrust, a friend whose expertise was knowledge and information. If BT said that this
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