Tobias exhaled. Of course, he had known Higher Defense Headquarters’ main objective in the hero employment and deployment business was earning a buck, but he had not considered what lengths the non-typical justice department went to in accident cover-ups.
Personally, I know that the original cover-up for Neville’s nuke’s collateral damage did not involve Tobias being freed at all. The confidential e-mail, another item that I stumbled upon through entirely conventional methods, stated that the most convenient way to deal with East Benediction’s disaster was by blaming the man who stood in the middle of it crying out that he had a bomb. His arrest was to be publicized, the mess would be cleaned up by the cement, earth, and metal molders in Headquarters employ, the witnesses paid off or hypnotized, and in a matter of weeks, it would be as if the explosion had never happened.
If you wish to see Mr. Might and Vine Voodoo as inherently antagonistic in order to fuel your anger and sympathize with our unconventional protagonist, I suggest skipping the next three paragraphs of my research.
Firstly, I must be clear that I sympathize entirely with Tobias MacClain. However, I acknowledge that Benjamin Jones and Poppy Tris are not villainous any more than I am. We make the wrong decisions often, and say the wrong things sometimes, and might accidentally leave the lights on when we leave the house, but we all feel guilt for our wrong-doings. This is what distinguishes us as decent people, though it does not make us, per se, “good”.
In the case of the Wednesday the 16th incident, it was an e-mail from the remaining duo of Team Defiance that stopped one good-intending one-legged man from being exposed as a death-faking former hero, and being blamed for a dreadful act of terror that he had only done his best to prevent. The e-mail, I am sure, was written by Poppy Tris, judging by the literate and formal language that indicated a high-achieving English student, but it was sent by Benjamin Jones, judging by the name and address on the e-mail, to the lawyer whose name is redacted from this script.
Benjamin and Poppy insisted that the person that saved so many people from their mistake deserved to be raised up, not locked up. And without their input, and the follow-up pleading from Benjamin over a sobbed phone call, Tobias most certainly would not have left that room freely. But, please, continue to think of the schism in this memoir as entirely black and white, if it is simpler that way.
The pen scratched a shaky signature of a false name over the paper and Tobias sighed and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t matter in the future. He would go to jail regardless for all the incomplete schemes that swam in his mind, all the twisted truths he wished to expose to the nation, all the pain he wanted to put onto someone else. He didn’t need to be a hero, or for anyone to know the risks he had taken faking his death, then saving thousands. Right now, all he needed was not to be noticed, but it was already too late for that.
He put down the pen and smiled back at the woman. “I have always aspired to be as bold and daring and heroic as Mr. Might,” he insisted, slipping sardonically into the role of an innocent. It almost triggered his gag reflex. “When I saw him on the news, when I overheard that terrorist beside me, I just couldn’t help myself. I was inspired. I knew that I could make a difference, even without super strength. Because that’s what Mr. Might means to me.” His smile tightened as the lady’s chin lifted with interest. “He is the strength I’ll never have. Seeing him on duty, serving our nation, gives me the strength I need to resist injustice, daily.”
The lawyer’s red lips parted to show her perfect teeth. She nodded, pleased, and took the manila folder and its lawful contents back to review them. “I like that,” she purred. “We can put that on television. You’ll be a noble everyday hero, and so will—”
“No.” Tobias glared at her, expression hardening. “I have done as you requested, and I would like to be released. If anyone asks, I will run with your story, as in the agreement. Uncuff me.”
She delved into a pocket. Tobias’s attention snapped to the door. Visitors would arrive soon. It could be in ten seconds or in twenty, it could be loud, or quiet. He could trip at the doorstop, or stride smoothly in. He could look at his secret partner first, or at Tobias first. The chances swam in Tobias’s head as he half-consciously held his wrists out to the lawyer.
The handcuffs fell to the table and he stood abruptly, rubbing the marks from his wrists.
The door flew open hard enough to whack against the wall and bounce back. Mr. Might ducked inside with his hands on his hips and all his pearly whites on display. He filled Tobias’s reddening vision so completely that the man barely noticed Spectre entering behind, or the lawyer leaving after.
There he was, dressed in the same blue and gold suit that he had worn when he had left Tobias to die. He stood tall and straight, as if he could never be brought down, as if he expected to be looked up to and worshipped. He extended his hand, as if he expected Tobias to shake it.
But Tobias was frozen, trembling and rigid as if he’d just arrived from the tundra. All that ran behind his wide and blank and angry eyes was Benjamin Jones’s cowardly face turning away from him when he needed it the most. It was as if he were powerless all over again.
Comments (0)
See all