Sidekick by Carl Stubblefield (10 best novels of all time .txt) 📗

“No, I think it was the third day, after orientation.”

The video sped forward, to that day.

Gus unlocked the door and let the cool air envelop him as he stepped inside. Good. No one is home. He dropped off his pack and helmet, then made his way to his room. He removed his belt and threw it in the corner, then peeled off the form-fitting unitard. The air conditioning felt good against his sweaty skin. He had been on patrol duty on the upper wall of the Purple Faction headquarters. It was high enough and secure enough that there was little risk of attack, but their coordinators were merciless in their drills.

While many of the other trainees grumbled at the mind-numbing work, Gus didn’t mind. Occasionally, he would patrol a section of the wall high above the academy training yards. He would try to guess what abilities the small forms would use to cross the obstacle course. The instructors could generate different scenarios at will, and it was entertaining to watch. Gus could hear the faint cheering and celebration when someone pulled off an especially creative or innovative skill to solve one of the challenges.

He wasn’t supposed to be distracted, but the other henchmen along the wall would snap to attention and signal him to improve his posture and stare ahead or otherwise mask his observation of the supers. The only thing that made it difficult was the heat. Gus didn’t know if the helmets they wore helped or not. At least they resembled a motorcycle helmet and left the face exposed; some supers required full coverage.

They kept sweat from dripping directly from his brows, but at the end of his shift the padded lining felt totally drenched. It wouldn’t take long for the heavy neoprene smell to be replaced with a different, but equally disagreeable, scent. He had been issued five outfits but only one helmet.

Heading to the bathroom, he gave the helmet a thorough rinsing and then took a quick shower. Throwing on some sweats and an old T-shirt, he put his helmet on the porch to dry in the evening sun, then relaxed on the couch. Before he could get settled and find the holo-vid remote, Alan kicked the door open. He had his arm around Tempest and they were laughing and joking.

“You should have seen the looks on their faces, it was priceless.”

“What happened, Alan?” Gus sighed, a little chagrined that he hadn’t had the house to himself for longer.

His brother turned on him, joviality gone. “It’s Cyclone now. Don’t call me Alan.” He poked Gus’ chest with a finger hard enough to leave a bruise. “Got it?”

“Yeah, sure, Cyclone.” Gus coughed.

“That’s more like it, lackey. You know you’re lucky you’re not with Orange, or you might have had some trouble today.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, yours truly just completed his first mission as a team lead. We infiltrated an Orange outpost and gathered some intel. Too bad they didn’t keep any supers on hand. Some of the henchmen there got some flying lessons…”

“What?”

“The dummies tried to stand their ground instead of retreating. I mean, duh! You’re standing next to a sheer cliff face with only a parapet to protect you. Against supers! What do you expect? Gus, I hope you’re smarter if you ever get a posting like that. Know your place and stay out of the way, or you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Gus squinted and frowned a bit, looking up at his big brother.

Cyclone rolled his eyes, then held one hand up high and flat. With the other he made a little man out of his first two fingers, kicking as the hand fell then followed by a big raspberry at the end. “Get it?” he punctuated, looking at Gus expectantly.

“Y-yeah, I’ll be careful,” Gus replied, a bit stunned.

“See that you do. I wouldn’t put it past you to lose your head in a real fight.” He turned to the kitchen and strode out. “Man, I’m starving! What do we got to eat?”

Gus glanced at Tempest, who looked proudly at his older son. He turned and looked at Gus. Nothing was spoken, but Gus heard the words echo as if he’d said them again.

Well, it sounds like you learned a valuable lesson, then. Never engage a superior force, especially without the resources to defend your position.

Gus’ tongue probed around the inside of his mouth that was suddenly dry and uncomfortable. Tempest nodded and followed Alan into the kitchen without a word.

“I think that was a big day for me, Nick. I remember how Tempest seemed fine with Cyclone acting as he did. Like it wasn’t a big deal that he had just killed someone doing their job. A job that I could easily be doing! It really rocked my world. I considered getting out of it for a while after that. I spent a lot of time up on the wall that summer, looking down on those supers. Wondering what I would do when I got my opportunity. I got tested again later that year and I still wasn’t a candidate.” Gus shook his hands out to get blood back into them. He had been clenching his fists tighter than he had realized.

“Why did you stay?” Nick asked.

“For one thing, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. Nothing grabbed my attention, and I knew I would be in training for a bit, so I just stayed with it. It wasn’t hard compared to what I could be doing. And it kept my family off my back, so it was a case of going along to get along. Around the end of that summer, I was playing online with some friends, and we got talking about work. Turned out we all had gone into henchmen jobs, and the others were surprised that I was actually doing the same thing. They suggested that we all apply for a transfer to the same unit after my basic training was over.”

“So they