Young Sentinels (Wearing the Cape) (Volume 3) by Marion G. Harmon Page B
Authors: Marion G. Harmon
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dining room with some encouraging words, I tried to slouch back to my rooms.
This ride blows. I want my money back.
Instead Willis found me — The Harlequin had summoned me back upstairs, this time to her office.
The idea of superheroes having offices was just ... wrong. Headquarters and briefing rooms and high-tech workout and training rooms? Yeah. But, offices? Rooms where you read reports and sign stuff? It turned out that hers was on a balcony level open to the City Room, so she could step out and watch Dispatch as it coordinated the patrols and responses of all the CAI teams in Chicago.
I’d seen the City Room before on a grade-school tour, part of the Dome Experience not available since Villains Inc.’s attack on the place last spring; now, visitors had to stick to the atrium, museum, theater and gift-shop. I took the stairs up to her office two steps at a time, wondering what she could want with me.
The Harlequin’s office was as colorful as her costumes, walls covered by Cirque du Soleil show posters. She looked up and smiled when I knocked on her open door, and the big guy with her stood up when I came in. He was taller than me, wide shoulders and all lean muscle.
He looked me over and nodded. “I can work with this.”
I looked back, feeling myself heat up. “Work with what ?”
The Harlequin rolled her eyes. “Andrew, play nice. Sit, both of you.”
He laughed and handed me a large epad — the kind that could display whole magazine or comic-book pages in bright color. It showed me , front and back in ink and color, wearing a short, zipped-up red leather jacket with black shoulders and trim over a black high-necked shirt and cargo pants. I also wore combat boots, gloves, and a utility belt with the Sentinels “S”-logo. An asymmetrical explosive starburst decorated the back of the jacket. He gave me a moment to absorb the picture, then leaned forward and tapped the screen to drop a dark visored half-helmet on the figure. He’d written Megaton under the costume sketches.
Whoa . That’s just —
“The shoulders are padded to de-emphasize your waist,” he said. “But you’ll probably work off your leftover child fat if you stay.”
That brought me down. “I can’t — I haven’t been able to control it yet.”
“Are you going to give up?”
“No!” I caught The Harlequin smiling. Andrew made a forget-about-it gesture and winked at her.
“They’ll get you straight, then. Might hurt. Might not. So, the design?”
I couldn’t stop staring at it. “ Yeah. That’s just...”
“Amazing,” he finished for me.
“Yeah. But I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, yet.”
The Harlequin coughed, making me look up.
“Assuming we fix your trigger — and there are plans for that — we’re going to make you an offer you can’t refuse. No details, just assume it’s an apprenticeship like Jamal got. The question is, do you want to be a hero?”I looked at the epad again, but couldn’t stop seeing the wrecked bus, crazed and bloody glass. Megaton. The name was as much as warning as anything.
“I — I don’t know. I don’t want to — you’ve seen what they’re saying online.”
She nodded.
“I don’t want that being what everybody remembers, but I don’t know if I can — I don’t want to hurt anybody else.” I hadn’t thought about it in those words, but it became true as I said it.
I couldn’t read the look she gave me. “Then we’ll leave it here for now,” she said after a moment. “If you decide to wear the cape, Andrew will help. The right look and name is important, not that Andrew can do the impossible. He tries, but without that huge mallet she carries, Astra can’t do threatening at all .”
Andrew smiled like it was an old joke, and I wondered who he was fooling. Designer, right — the guy was the total alpha-male without even trying. He was a cape . Had to be. And he and The Harlequin looked at each other like Mr. Brian and Ms. Steward, the
This ride blows. I want my money back.
Instead Willis found me — The Harlequin had summoned me back upstairs, this time to her office.
The idea of superheroes having offices was just ... wrong. Headquarters and briefing rooms and high-tech workout and training rooms? Yeah. But, offices? Rooms where you read reports and sign stuff? It turned out that hers was on a balcony level open to the City Room, so she could step out and watch Dispatch as it coordinated the patrols and responses of all the CAI teams in Chicago.
I’d seen the City Room before on a grade-school tour, part of the Dome Experience not available since Villains Inc.’s attack on the place last spring; now, visitors had to stick to the atrium, museum, theater and gift-shop. I took the stairs up to her office two steps at a time, wondering what she could want with me.
The Harlequin’s office was as colorful as her costumes, walls covered by Cirque du Soleil show posters. She looked up and smiled when I knocked on her open door, and the big guy with her stood up when I came in. He was taller than me, wide shoulders and all lean muscle.
He looked me over and nodded. “I can work with this.”
I looked back, feeling myself heat up. “Work with what ?”
The Harlequin rolled her eyes. “Andrew, play nice. Sit, both of you.”
He laughed and handed me a large epad — the kind that could display whole magazine or comic-book pages in bright color. It showed me , front and back in ink and color, wearing a short, zipped-up red leather jacket with black shoulders and trim over a black high-necked shirt and cargo pants. I also wore combat boots, gloves, and a utility belt with the Sentinels “S”-logo. An asymmetrical explosive starburst decorated the back of the jacket. He gave me a moment to absorb the picture, then leaned forward and tapped the screen to drop a dark visored half-helmet on the figure. He’d written Megaton under the costume sketches.
Whoa . That’s just —
“The shoulders are padded to de-emphasize your waist,” he said. “But you’ll probably work off your leftover child fat if you stay.”
That brought me down. “I can’t — I haven’t been able to control it yet.”
“Are you going to give up?”
“No!” I caught The Harlequin smiling. Andrew made a forget-about-it gesture and winked at her.
“They’ll get you straight, then. Might hurt. Might not. So, the design?”
I couldn’t stop staring at it. “ Yeah. That’s just...”
“Amazing,” he finished for me.
“Yeah. But I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, yet.”
The Harlequin coughed, making me look up.
“Assuming we fix your trigger — and there are plans for that — we’re going to make you an offer you can’t refuse. No details, just assume it’s an apprenticeship like Jamal got. The question is, do you want to be a hero?”I looked at the epad again, but couldn’t stop seeing the wrecked bus, crazed and bloody glass. Megaton. The name was as much as warning as anything.
“I — I don’t know. I don’t want to — you’ve seen what they’re saying online.”
She nodded.
“I don’t want that being what everybody remembers, but I don’t know if I can — I don’t want to hurt anybody else.” I hadn’t thought about it in those words, but it became true as I said it.
I couldn’t read the look she gave me. “Then we’ll leave it here for now,” she said after a moment. “If you decide to wear the cape, Andrew will help. The right look and name is important, not that Andrew can do the impossible. He tries, but without that huge mallet she carries, Astra can’t do threatening at all .”
Andrew smiled like it was an old joke, and I wondered who he was fooling. Designer, right — the guy was the total alpha-male without even trying. He was a cape . Had to be. And he and The Harlequin looked at each other like Mr. Brian and Ms. Steward, the
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