B2 15-16 - Clubbing and Spy Mission

15 - Clubbing

Monday, January 12

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“I’m not sure why I’m even in this class,” Su-Bin muttered as we pored over the Child Psychology notes from Doctor Roberts’s lecture. The professor wasn’t boring, that was for sure. She scared us too much to be boring. She said everything with such seriousness that I couldn’t believe she’d been an elementary counselor for a decade before teaching. And worse, she did weekly quizzes on Tuesdays about the previous week’s material.

So Su-Bin and I sat on my apartment floor, trying to study the hierarchy of needs.

“You need a psych class to get a degree, and this one’s got real-life use. It’s a solid choice. At least, that’s what my advisor said when we filled out my schedule. Now, where does theater fall on the hierarchy?” I asked.

“Probably under self-actualization for you, nerd,” Su-Bin teased. “I’m not sure for me, though. It’s fun to watch, but it’s not something I need to do. But yeah, no, I’m not going to use Child Psych. I’m not having kids, I’m not working with kids, and if I’m in a life-or-death situation where I need to know how a 6-year-old thinks, I’ll just die.”

“Ooookay.” I sighed. I wrote ‘theater’ up by self-actualization. “How’s your roommate doing?”

“Oh, she’s fine. She’s got a new boyfriend, though. I had to draw some lines with her. Now she spends most of her time at his place instead, which is great for me. I’m filling my physiological need for sleep much better now.” She wrote ‘getting rid of the roommate’ under physiological needs.

I furrowed my brow. “Does she go to classes?”

“Who cares? She’s only back one or two nights a week now. Is sex a physiological need or a love and belonging need?”

I reddened slightly. “I’m not sure. I’m going to call it…both? Because, uh, sex itself is physiological, but the closeness and intimacy is love and belonging.”

“Makes sense.” Sun-Bin scribbled ‘my roommate’s loud lovemaking’ under both. “How about cafeteria food? Not the food court with the burritos and good pizza, but the cafeteria itself?”

“Doesn’t even make the list.” The Student Union Building’s cafeteria had emptied out. The quality had plummeted over break. No one wanted yet another greasy slice of pizza or overcooked hamburger—not after home cooking—and even the enticement of ‘free’ food wasn’t enough to bring people in.

Su-Bin laughed, not quite snorting her extra-large soda out of her nose. “What’d you do this weekend?”

“Oh, I went to the winter festival at Confluence Park. Just me, though. Bianca had other plans.” None of that was a lie. I had been at the winter festival, and Bee spent most of the morning as Fursona, coordinating with the radio show host about our roundtable discussion.

Surprisingly, Su-Bin narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t some supers ruin the whole festival and blow up the old power plant?”

“Not…exactly. A pair of supervillains attacked the festival’s river skating, and Tele-Portal and some other heroine saved a bunch of people. Then they chased down the villains and kept the festival safe. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It sounds like a big deal to me. I heard one of the villains said something about trying to take over the city. Dad thinks we’re heading for another Power War. It’ll be a total mess this time, too. Supers keep getting more and more powerful, and Extras like us aren’t any safer.”

I did not want to have this conversation right now. “Yeah…anyways, the festival had some great ice skating, and I got to try some delicious cider. I liked it so much I came back for four helpings. There were some art booths and a few people selling skis, snowshoes, and ice skates, but I only stayed for a few hours. What did you do yesterday?”

“I signed up for a couple of clubs.” Su-Bin shrugged. “You’d hate the first one. Theorems and Theses. It’s a pseudo-role-playing club where we work through historical math and engineering problems for fun. There are races to solve the most or to solve problems the fastest. One guy’s been working on solving the Riemann hypothesis, but that’s impossible, and everyone else knows it. But, yeah, it’s a cool club, and I’m already meeting a lot of neat people in it.”

“That sounds…great,” I said, hedging. I did not want an invitation; thankfully, one wasn’t forthcoming. “How about the other club?

“You’d get a lot out of it. It’s a really great group of people. We’re united under the banner of making the world a better place, and the vice president has a really driving vision for its future. It’s called APPEAL.”

Something about the name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “Appeal? Is it a fashion-focused club? You don’t strike me as particularly fashion-conscious, Su-Bin.”

“Ouch.” Su-Bin pointed dramatically to her grey sweatshirt and sweatpants. “That’d hurt more if it wasn’t true. No, APPEAL is the Anti-Power Protestors’ and Extras’ Advancement League. We’re the Tokyexico University chapter.”

Shit. I’d looked it up but forgotten all about it. Bianca had even mentioned that APPEAL was part of the round table radio shot. And of course Su-Bin was part of it. Her parents had been anti-super, and she’d said that she didn’t really like supers last semester. I tried to find a way out before she could nail me down. My brain was in overdrive.

But it wasn’t fast enough. “We’re having a meeting tomorrow evening. Free pizza—the good, off-campus kind—and drinks. You should come.”

Double shit. “Uh, I don’t know, Bianca and I have plans to—“

“She can come too. The more we are, the more powerful we become, like a bundle of sticks. It’s the only way to stand up to the supers.” Then, before I could ‘maybe’ my way out of it, she dropped the hammer. “Plus, I’m the vice president!”

Triple shit. I closed my eyes and blew out a long sigh. There wasn’t a good way out of this. I had no excuses lined up—not really—and not showing up would be letting Su-Bin down. Still, I had to try. “Su-Bin, you know I like superheroes, right?”

“Well, yeah, Annie. Everyone likes superheroes until they knock down your house or fumigate your school or something. But society post-Launch Day is so structured around supers that you’d never know how things used to be. I’m offering you a chance to see past the shiny suits and flashy powers—to realize how dangerous even a little league hero is!” Su-Bin took a deep breath, flustered. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m off-script so bad right now. Just…just come to the meeting tomorrow? 7:00, the Alder Building, Meeting Room 237.”

I relented. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Thank you. Now, where does the wall fit in on the hierarchy?”

◄▼►

“You did what?” Bianca half-shouted.

“I agreed to go to her stupid meeting, okay?” I said. We sat on my apartment couch. Well, I sat. Bianca stood, hands on her hips, glaring at me. I flinched under her glare.

The moment Su-Bin left, I’d texted Bianca and told her to come over as soon as she could. I kind of regretted not telling her why, though. She’d walked through the door in such a good mood, and I’d dropped the bomb that we had dinner with an anti-super club tomorrow.

“No, I get what you did, I just…I don’t understand why.” Bianca’s face was flushed, and the scent of apples competed with the much-less-pleasant stink of nervous sweat. “You know you’re talking with one of their members—probably their president—in ten days, right? If whoever it is recognizes Understudy as Annie, it’ll blow up in Su-Bin’s face, not ours.”

“Oh, don’t worry. No one’s going to recognize me. I’m a master of disguise.”

Bianca laughed, and I started relaxing, but her expression soured again a moment later. She spoke, her voice somehow both soft and severe. “Annie, I think you’re awesome, and you’re a ton of fun to do superhero stuff with, but you’re not subtle. You’re not subtle at all. I figured you out in like ten minutes, remember?”

I flushed and looked down. “You’re special. Most people won’t see it.”

“The Crumb and Flare caught you spying without even trying.”

“We’ll be fine. This is a great opportunity to get a leg up for the radio round table.”

“I think this is a terrible idea, Annie. There’s no way it doesn’t go badly for Su-Bin, us, or everyone.”

“I’m making a decision as team leader, Bianca. We’ve got a chance to figure out the talking points for one of the round table participants. I’m taking that chance. You’re the one who’s big on preparation. I’m preparing!” I half-shouted and stood up.

“You’re being stupid!” Bee shouted back. “You’re going to get caught, and I bet APPEAL would love to expose the hero who blew up the engineering building.”

“I’m not being stupid. I’m being realistic!” I took a deep breath and forced myself to sit back down. Peter and I had fought like this sometimes. Once, we’d had a full-on screaming match in Riverside High’s halls that devolved into an Episode later that day. I didn’t want that with Bee. I took another breath. “Look, we’re committed, so I need your help. Maybe I can wear a goofy mustache disguise or something. We can make me unrecognizable for one night, right?”

“I don’t think Pataki could make you unrecognizable.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty awesome. But seriously, we have this afternoon to plan, then we’re going in. Or I am if you won’t come with me.”

Bianca deflated. Or maybe she just didn’t want to fight anymore, either. Her eyes still burned, and she still seemed pissed, but she sat down next to me and snuggled up against me. I wrapped an arm around her and kept talking. “I’m a lot better with you than I am alone, Bianca. I need your help.”

“Okay.” She relaxed in my arms. Not much—she was still pissed—but a little. “But we’re gonna have to reverse roles for this one. You’ve gotta be the sidekick because you need to be invisible. I’ll draw attention. I’m always in my fursuit as a hero anyway, so it won’t matter if I’m recognizable.”

“Fine. You’re the hero, and I’m the sidekick. What’s your first order, boss-lady?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“You need…a script.”

“A script, huh?” I was an actress. I could do a script.

“Yep. You’re the weak link since you have no idea how to maintain a secret identity. So we’re going to make a script for you. You’re going to be on that script all evening because if you’re not, and you blow your cover, I’ll never forgive you. Got it?” Her voice cut like a knife; she was deadly serious.

“Got it.”

“Good, now let’s start with what you can’tsay. You’re not allowed to talk about superhero Episodes. If anyone asks about the TUEAS Building, you don’t know anything, but it’s a tragedy that it collapsed, and you hope it gets rebuilt soon. Do not mention Understudy or Fursona. And try to keep any conversations you have with people who aren’t me to a minimum,” Bianca instructed.

I gulped. “You’re keeping me on a short leash here, huh?”

“Damn right, I am. If I’m risking my identity, too, you’re gonna play by the rules.” She stood up, grabbed a paper and pencil, and sat back down. “I’ve got homework, so we’ve got an hour to plan this spy mission.”

◄▼►

16 - Spy Mission

Monday, January 13

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Bianca and I stood outside the Alder Building. The weather had been surprisingly warm, but now it was pitch black out, and I suppressed a shiver. Part of that was the cold, but mostly, I just felt scummy. Like I was betraying a friend.

Which was, in fact, what I was about to do.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? We could back out,” I mumbled.

“No. You got us committed to this. You’re going to see it through.” Bianca clearly hadn’t entirely forgiven me for getting us into this mess. Her glare softened. “I know she’s your friend. I know you feel like you’re about to stab her in the back. But that doesn’t matter. You go in there, and you stick to the script. We’ll be better positioned for that minor league spot if you do. And that’s what you want, right?”

I gulped. “Right.”

“Good. Let’s go. We have five minutes.”

As we walked through the Alder Building’s sterile halls, I kept fidgeting with my hair. “Stop that. You look nervous,” Bianca said.

“I amnervous.”

“Don’t be. Just remember your training.”

“I haven’t had any training,” I muttered. “An hour of prep figuring out what to talk about doesn’t count, especially because you pretty much told me to shut up and look pretty. I bet Tele-Portal—“

“No superhero names. And you do look pretty, so shut up once we’re in there.”

“Right. I bet my mentor would have some advice on surviving a club meeting you’re not sure about joining. She knows a ton about the law business, and it’s gotta be similar, right?”

Su-Bin stood outside Meeting Room 237, talking animatedly with an older-looking guy. She waved. “Erik, these are the two new members I told you about.”

“Uh, possible new members,” Erik said, winking. “We don’t push our thinking on others here, unlike some people.”

“Yeah, possible members. Anika, Bianca, meet Erik. He’s APPEAL’s president.”

We said our pleasantries and shook hands; his squeeze felt looser than it needed to be, almost like shaking with a dead fish. He laughed as Bianca tried switching hands on him, then pointed through the doors. “We bought enough from Mario’s for everyone to have three slices, and there’s soda inside, too. Make yourselves at home. We’ll start the actual meeting in fifteen minutes.”

I nodded, thanked him, and entered the metaphorical lion’s den.

Meeting Room 237 was enormous—the size of a lecture hall, but without the terraced seating and long, curving desks. Instead, a gigantic table stood in the room’s center, with a projector aimed so most people could see the screen and comfy-looking office chairs lining it. If it were smaller, it would’ve felt like a boardroom. As it was, it felt almost too big. But only almost, because as empty of furniture as the room was, it was packed full of students. Most looked like they were here for the free pizza, but not all.

I recognized one—or more accurately, he recognized me before I could do much about it. “Annie! Annie from Post-Launch Day History! And you brought your girlfriend. I guess that means you’re still not taking me up on coffee?” Avan winked at me. Bee narrowed her eyes just slightly. “Oh. Not in a joking mood?”

“Not at all, Avan,” Bianca said, a touch of coldness in her voice. She’d never liked Avan, the few times we’d run into each other on the elevator.

I’d last seen Avan running for his life from the TERROR Mech while Professor Panic and I got ready to fight by the Mister Felsic Statue. Before that, I’d run into him on the elevator after our history final. “I’ll get in line for pizza,” I said.

“Sure. See you in a few.” Bee planted a kiss on my cheek that wasn’t for my benefit—or hers. “Why do you flirt with Annie all the time? She’s mine.”

I didn’t stick around for the rest of their conversation. The pizza line only took a minute or two, but it was enough time to formulate a strategy—or as much of one as possible. I loaded up the plates; a mix of different toppings for Bee and plain cheese for me. Then I returned to the upset-looking Bianca. “You’re cranky tonight, Bee. Have some food.”

“Thanks.” Food was the only way I could think of to keep Bee happy sometimes, and free food was even better.

As she dug in, I turned to Avan. “So, what made you interested in APPEAL?”

“Oh, I’m not. I reached out to them about showing up on my radio show, though. I’m having a couple of supers on for a round table, and I thought an anti-super perspective might spice things up.”

I couldn’t think of much to say, but luckily, Bianca saved me. “Are you getting a hero and a villain? Who are they? I bet they’re not even top-rate supers.”

“Actually, they’re both very much in the public eye. One hero, one villain, though if you talked to APPEAL, there’s no difference. Plus, the villain’s been more heroic than the hero recently, according to Erik. I plan on discussing that at the round table, but I can’t say much about it. If I spoil it all, you won’t tune in.”

“I won’t tune in no matter what,” Bianca said around a bit of sausage pizza.

“I might. I’ve always been curious about, uh, public perceptions about specific supers,” I started.

“Oh, you’ll be a great fit for the club.” Erik interrupted. He had a slice of pizza and a red cup filled with a bubbly blue drink. “We keep a running record of TUSSA and the SSS and how the rest of campus perceives their actions. I’m working on my capstone project for superpower law, and I’m focusing my research on how public perceptions impact regulations and rules for supers and how the community pushes back. “

I stared, flummoxed for a moment. “I’m looking at superpower law as a career,” I finally said half-heartedly.

Bianca glared and tried kicking me surreptitiously, but the damage was already done. Erik took the hook. “Oh? Most students focus on regulations or super rights, but I think there’s a lot of unlitigated space in repealing the Third Ilneat Compact and restricting superpowered activity to only a few cities, with willing Extras.”

“You mean the New Gotham Accords?” Avan said. “I’ve been doing my research before the round table and for some of my other shows. It’s all fascinating stuff.”

“Yeah. The New Gotham Accords would be a good start, but I’m thinking bigger,” Erik said. “Su-Bin will have more details on our plans at your round table, though.”

I relaxed slightly as he left to go fiddle with a laptop. Things would get better once the meeting started.

◄▼►

Things didn’t get better.

I tossed my last slice of pizza—my appetite had vanished—and found a seat around the long, skinny table as Su-Bin and Erik formally started the meeting. Avan being the host was bad enough. We’d spent time together, but I felt confident my Magical Girl Understudy costume would hold up to casual inspection. Besides, a villain would be there too. Hopefully, it’d be someone flashy; Tearjerker, maybe, or Monologue if he didn’t [Monologue]. Either would draw plenty of attention.

But Su-Bin was my friend, and if she was anything like her parents, she wouldn’t hold back on the radio. Could I deal with having a friend badmouth me personally, to my face? I wasn’t sure; I’d never had anything like this happen to me. And she would say some pretty horrible things. I wasn’t 100% sure what Erik’s list looked like, but if I had to guess, Magical Girl Undergrad was pretty far down it. The incident at the TUEAS Building alone would have done it, but the Mister Felsic Statue fight hadn’t helped either.

Bianca kicked me again, this time under the table. “Script,” she mouthed at me.

Right. I needed to stay on script, and I hadn’t done a great job so far. It was only Erik’s chill interest in superhero law that’d let my faux pas slide. Or maybe…maybe they just didn’t care. Erik and Su-Bin probably dealt with recruits constantly, and some might have mixed feelings about supers. He probably had a script of his own for that.

He sure did for running the meeting. “Hello, and welcome to Anti-Power Protestors’ and Extras’ League’s first meeting of the new year. We have a packed agenda tonight, so let’s run through the big points. We don’t need any surprises, right?”

He gave Su-Bin a thumbs-up. She clicked the remote, and the projector sprung to life, displaying their agenda.

One: Fundraising for APPEAL shirts/stickers

Two: Recent Superhero Disasters

Three: Round Table 1/22

Four: Open Floor For Discussion

Su-Bin cleared her throat. “We’re working on a fundraiser to replenish our coffers and maybe even buy some APPEAL swag. Some of you have official stuff from the larger League, but we’d like some TU-focused shirts and stickers. We’re looking for ideas on how to raise that money and shirt designs, so we’ll have an in-club contest. The winner gets a free shirt when we make them.”

She launched into a tedious explanation of the club’s finances and the process for getting official TU/APPEAL shirts and stickers made. I sort of tuned it out. Well, I tuned it out a lot. Math majors liked that stuff, not me.

Then Erik talked about the Episodes over the last week that’d made headlines for destruction, danger, and general bad vibes. Somehow, ‘Winter is Coming’ made the list, which was ridiculous. Neither Tele-Portal nor I had done anything wrong there. We’d executed well, but my name came up anyway. How was thatfair?

“So, with that Episode fresh in our heads, and with ‘Haze-Matt’s Escape From Almhurst’ and ‘Absent-Hearted Professor’ fresh in our minds, let’s move on to talking about our chance to strike back against some supers,” Erik said. “Avan, also known as DJ Smooth, contacted us about participating in a radio round table on his show. We accepted, of course, and tonight’s main focus is on our strategy for talking with a hero and villain and making our case directly to the people who keep us down—and to the audience, of course. Su-Bin Pak is our chosen representative. She’ll take it from here.”

“Thanks, Erik. I have big plans, but putting our heads together is more powerful than me trying to solo-plan a whole round-table discussion. So, there are two major points I want to make. First, crime on campus is going wild, especially superpowered crime. Second, the heroes aren’t keeping us safe from the villains. They’re more focused on their shows and games and less on people. Third, what have supers ever done for us? Do those seem pretty reasonable to you all?”

I almost said something right there. But Bianca squeezed my hand meaningfully. The message was clear; ‘I know you’re pissed, but this is why we came here. Stick to the script.’ I gritted my teeth and prepared to tough it out.

The rest of her audience felt like her points were fine. Objectively, I felt the last one was weak, but I couldn’t place why. I needed someone to talk to about all this. Maybe Tele-Portal, if I could get some time with her pre-round table.

“Great. The other part of this is tone. I want to come out swinging and really pressure the hero. The villain will likely sit back and laugh, although he’s been involved in Man vs. Nature stuff for a while, so he might get prickly about some of that.”

I grinned. The villain had to be Theseus. If it was, Su-Bin was in for a rude awakening. The limb-replacing villain might not look brilliant, but he was a hard worker. His preparations for the round table probably looked more intense than mine.

“I think we might be able to break the hero on-air, though. Magical Girl Undergrad’s gotten some horrible publicity recently, especially on-campus, and she’s gotta be frustrated about that.”

I shot a stunned look at Bianca. She glanced back at me, the same look mirrored in her face—a look that said she was reevaluating our round table strategy. Then she leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Stick to the script.”

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