There were a few snorts from the criminals around me, but none of them hesitated to head for the cop cars. I gave the camera a conspiratorial wink, knowing they’d play it when they all connected the dots. Then headed for one of the vehicles too. Just in time too, as I slipped into one of the vehicles, I noticed a pair of patrolling superheroes come to check out the weird disturbance.

  It was probably silly, but I didn’t want to be in the supervillain prison, in the building I thought of as home.

  I was so bored.

  I’d told my story yet again when I’d arrived at the fifth precinct, to a nice woman, Sergeant Vera Downes. They’d booked me and put me in a cell. They’d also told me it was normal for a trial to take place within two weeks of arrest. Between the new system, and an all-digital society that sounded about right to me. It wouldn’t be hard to collect evidence, or to send the needed data to everyone that needed it. The cop did tell me it might be a little longer though, since the influx of two hundred criminals in one night might add some delays.

  The worst part was when my mom showed up along with a defense lawyer she’d hired. She’d looked so disappointed in me, even if she said she understood and was also proud of me that I’d bailed out the FBI. That’s when I’d told the story the fourth time, and my lawyer, Brian Christensen didn’t look all that thrilled he’d have to defend me. Since I was pretty much guilty and planned to testify. It was also when I’d learned I’d be charged as an adult, due to the seriousness of the crime and how often I’d done it.

  All on the same day too. The same evening, for that matter.

  The interview and two stories were all over the news by then, but I hadn’t actually gotten to see any of it yet. No computer interface, no books, and no distractions but a white wall in a tiny cell.

  I also looked horrible in an orange jumpsuit.

  Doubts struck then. They could hardly fail to do so, given where I was. I was still human, still just a sixteen-year-old, and I second guessed all my decisions. I knew I wasn’t wrong, but if I’d gambled wrong and people failed to see that truth, then I was screwed. In a lot of ways, the way telepaths were treated was the last bastion of bigotry on the planet. We were the outsiders, in a world of supers. Not in a cruel way, we weren’t beaten, made fun of, or anything like that. Just… not fully accepted.

  I just hoped all I’d done would really be enough to break through that, and let people see the truth. That there was a lot more we could do to help keep the country a safe place. I told myself it’d be worth it, even getting jail time, if my sacrifice was enough to push change, and to make the country reassess the laws and attitudes held toward people with my powers. Not just tier-three, but all telepaths.

  I mean, just look at the superhero training. It was all done with simulations and bots, telepaths just didn’t rate, when they really should. At least the tier twos and threes. The receptive telepaths weren’t capable of taking down anyone, after all. Just like a precog, or a person that glowed in the dark.

  On the good side, I felt dumber too. I mean, the cuffs suppressed my power, which included my multitasking expanded mind. The cuffs didn’t suppress our homo potens healing, or even the rare enhanced healing. Part of that was my new insanely strong metabolism, and my enhanced immune system as well. But all my other powers were gone.

  Including the feeling of peace, hence the warbling doubts, anger, and wanting to rock in my cell all day long. Even my perfect recall was gone, though my memory was still pretty sharp. I hadn’t been lacking in that area from the start, I’d just had to work harder at it and study before the eidetic memory part of my telepathic power had kicked in.

  I was stressed out.

  Which is why I almost welcomed the moment of violence when it came, to work off some of that angst.

  Another inmate rushed me as I walked into the cafeteria for lunch that day. I’m not even sure why, maybe she’d heard the news and was one of the ones I sent to confess, or maybe she was just friends with one of them. I don’t really know to this day, but the tall and rather bulky woman had a murderous visage on her face as she ran at me.

  Thing was, I was a telepath. Not a physical fighter. Except, I’d always expected to inherit my mother’s power. To be a physical fighter with strength, flight, and toughness. It was my dream to become a superhero, just like her.

  So I’d trained all my life for it, in the martial arts and in meditation. As human normal as I was in that moment, so was the other inmate in her cuffs. We were both base homo-sapiens in practicality.

  Her hands aimed for my throat as she lunged at me, so I ducked down and lunged forward, leading with my shoulder. As soon as she hit my shoulder I started going backwards, she had more than a few pounds on me. Still, she also doubled over, and I lifted up and twisted, even as I grabbed her leg and pulled up. She went flying over me, only to slam into the side of the doorway I’d just walked through.

  I winced at the pained grunt, even as I stepped away with a smirk on my face as she looked up at me in pained disbelief.

  In fighting it was a bad idea to pause like that. My training told me not to stop or give her a chance. To rush back in until she was out or subdued. But we were also in prison, and less than a second later the prison computer activated both our cuffs. The power suppression was always on, but not the restraint part. The cuffs were just heavy bracelets, most of the time. Bracelets that were locked on.

  I’d been ready for it, my hands and wrists already together as the powerful magnetic force pulled the cuffs together. My thrown enemy was not ready, and I heard one of her bones splinter as the cuffs slammed together with several tons of force. She’d heal in a couple of hours though.

  “That had to hurt,” I noted helpfully, certainly not in a smirking tone of voice.

  What, I was sixteen, remember, and feeling rather triumphant.

  At least, until they put me in solitary that night. Even though the woman had tried to kill me, and all I did was defend myself. How was that for unfair? It did occur to me it might’ve been to protect me as well, since word was out in the prison general population. I was a superhero’s kid, and I’d sent two hundred others to jail in a single night.

  The bad guys wouldn’t like that at all.

  Also, life wasn’t fair. I was old enough to know that, and I worried that fact meant nothing I did would change anything. I’d have to wait and see.

  Not much else happened, for the next couple of days, outside of me stewing in my own juices, as my mind went in circles with nothing to occupy it.

  Then of course, everything changed, and not to my expectations or hopes. At least, not this time, but I’m not going to get ahead of my story again.

  At the moment it was long past lights out. I woke up sometime in the middle of the night, my mind fogged and a little groggy since I hadn’t gotten a full four hours sleep yet. Then I heard the sound of my cell slide open, and I panicked a little and rolled off the bed and onto my feet.

  My cuffs snapped together. Perhaps it was Karma paying me back, but nothing broke. It just really hurt, fortunately they hadn’t been that far apart.

  A male voice laughed, as he lifted me by throat with one hand and pushed me against the wall. I tried to knee him where he lived and break his hold, but his other arm blocked my hands, and his twisted enough that my knee hit on his thigh.

  “Stop it,” he growled.

  He hit my left wrist with something, right above my cuffs. The thing turned from a short stick to wrapping tightly around my arm. In the moment it was hard to say what it was.

  Then he dropped me and took a step back.

  I’ll admit, I froze for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on. That’s when I felt the cuffs open on my wrists, and they made a light clatter on the cement floor as they fell.

  Then a flash of light, as my powers came rushing back.

  Someone had broken into my cell, equipped my arm with a teleport receiver band of some kind, and then removed my cuffs. Likely because they could be tracked, even if it had the unfortunate side effect of returning my powers.

  Something someone would shortly regret.

  Except, as I took a look around, there were weapon emitters in the walls all around me. A bunch of them, from every angle possible. My eyes narrowed, as I realized just how helpless I was in this situation. The weapons weren’t alive, which meant all my powers meant exactly nothing. I could be snuffed out any second.

  There was also only one mind near mine. I strained to reach out, even farther than a half mile, and nothing. No other living human except one in the area.

  Robert Branson, my father, supervillain extraordinaire.

  His voice was surprisingly pleasant.

  “I see you understand the situation. If you attack me, I’m afraid Cake will detect our mental battle and put you down. So please don’t do anything rash since I have no intention of killing of you. Yet. Oh, if you try to escape, she’ll kill you, so don’t try that either. Not that you have access to open the front door, so to speak.”

  “Cake?” I asked in a baffled voice. It was nonsensical.

  A warm female voice answered, “I’m Cake.”

  Oh, the psychopath named his A.I. Cake? That… was evil. It was probably a sick joke, something about having his cake and eating it too.

  It felt really good to have my enhanced faculties back, but at the same time that wouldn’t help me. For the moment, I was trapped. It was also easy to figure out he’d mind controlled the prison guard that had removed my cuffs, and he had attached his device instead. Just one more person my father had violated for his own ends.

  The metal door slid open in invitation.

  I walked out, to see Branson standing there. There were less weapons in the hallway, but I was guessing the things were all over the base. Even one was enough to kill me, most likely.

  “Why did you kidnap me? After all the times you tried to take me out, why aren’t I dead. Not that I’m disappointed, mind you.”

  He chuckled, “I didn’t know who you were back then. After your absurd interview and the breaking news, I did some research. More specifically, after you ruined my punishment for the FBI breaking up my network. I realized you were like me, a tier three telepath, no one else could’ve avoided my trap so neatly.”

  I almost yelled that I was nothing like him. Really, him saying that had angered me. But, it was just so cliché, on all the movies and shows the good guy always says that to the bad guy. Plus, yelling at the devil while I was helpless was hardly the course of wisdom.

  He continued, “It didn’t take me long to figure out you were my daughter, when I found out you were the child of Intrepid, and the dates all worked out for it.”

  Right, I was still alive because Satan himself was going for father of the year. The monster that raped my mother.

  I swallowed all the things I wanted to say, hard. Maybe it was a good thing I’d gotten my powers back as a side effect of being kidnapped. Because if it wasn’t for that peace inside of me, I’d probably be dead. Nothing would’ve stopped me from giving him a piece of my mind or attacking. Even with the peace in me I was enraged.

  “What now?” I asked, my rage filled tone of voice revealing my true feelings despite myself.

  He said, “I know you’re angry with me, and I don’t blame you. You’re also naïve if you think what you did will make any difference. At best they’ll talk about it for a while on the news, nothing will get done, and you’ll be forgotten as you languish in a cell for a hundred years. They don’t deserve us, child. More than that, they’ll never accept our greatness. Follow me.”

  I gaped, as he turned and walked away. Was he trying to recruit me? An as father and daughter we could rule the galaxy together kind of thing? I smirked at the thought, a line from a really old movie, which really was humorous deflection. Mostly to prevent myself from losing my mind. I wasn’t sure what was likelier, throwing up at the thought of partnering with my evil father, or attacking him despite the threat of death all around me.

  I needed to bide my time and wait for an opportunity. Even a small one would do, but right now as far as I could tell attacking or trying to escape would be instant death. I wasn’t suicidal.

  The hallway was clearly an underground tunnel, probably part of a cement bunker. I’d already realized we weren’t in a city, if his mind was the only one that I could reach. That also meant I wouldn’t be getting rescued, ever. The FBIs plan to track his teleports wouldn’t work, if we were out in the middle of nowhere, which we were most certainly were.

  There wasn’t even a nearby road. If there had been I’d have felt another mind by then, even if just briefly as they drove down the highway and passed by.

  I was at a monster’s mercy. I hated the fact I’d be dead if he wasn’t my father. That if this was just another supervillain, I’d have lost already. It was arrogant of course, to believe there was nothing I couldn’t beat using my mind, but that didn’t make it untrue. How I felt I mean, not that I was all that in reality, which was rather humbling.

  He waved at a door as we passed, “The command center. You are forbidden from entering there, for now. If you try, Cake has orders to kill you, even if I’m out on an errand.”

  Evil errand, more like.

  He continued, “You have access to the rest of my base, save my personal bedroom which will be locked to you. We’re fifty feet down, in the middle of nowhere as I’m sure you’ve realized by now. The only way in and out is via teleportation, and a single exit through a vault rated door that hasn’t been opened in forty years, since the place was built. I encourage you to open your mind, and to consider your future logically. The world will never accept you, and your powers will always be nothing but a first-class ticket to being jailed. I realized that over sixty years ago.

  “I didn’t want to be a supervillain when I was your age, you know, but the bigots and ridiculous laws pushed me to it. Do you think you’re the first one to notice telepaths are among the last beings being suppressed and the targets of prejudice. We’re all forced into a very small mold, and they waste the potential of beings of strength, like the two of us.

  “Between us, just two people, we destroyed and saved the FBI singlehandedly, within hours.”

  I wanted to puke, since his words hit a lot of nerves. More than that, he sounded proud of me, even if he thought I was helplessly naïve. I couldn’t yell, or attack, but I decided I had to debate.

  “In the late eighteen hundreds, they’d have said the same thing about slavery. That the slaves would never be free, and nothing would ever change. In the nineteen hundreds it was civil liberties for minorities and women. I don’t believe that it’s a helpless cause. Our nation has made progress against that kind of thing time and time again throughout its history. Becoming better with each generation. Our society is almost perfect that way now, save for those with our abilities. I have to believe it can change, that it will change. But change never comes easy or without price.

  “Is that the reason you chose the court system, selling not-guilty verdicts to monsters and setting them free. Because you hold the laws in contempt?”

  He grinned ruefully, “Yes. I was rather… self-righteous when I set the whole thing up. Angry at the laws, so I decided to make a mockery of them as well as use it to earn millions. There are so many other ways for us to gather wealth. Easier ones as well, and I’m done with that. The system I put in was dismantled anyway.”

  I smirked, “I dismantled it.”

  He chuckled, “Yes. I lost a few hundred million, but most of the accounts had been cleaned out before the FBI could identify them. Cake has made sure those transactions can’t be tracked. A mere inconvenience, but it was quite extraordinary of you, at just sixteen.”

  Oh crap, there was more of that evil fatherly pride that turned my stomach. Deep breath.

  Maybe I was just afraid to think of him as human. He wasn’t just evil, though he was that. Putting monsters on the street and raping who knows how many women like he had my mother, using mind control. That kind of thing negated anything else, didn’t it?

  The pleasantness and pride had to be an act. Didn’t it? Or was I fooling myself, to say he had no redeeming characteristics at all. Not that it mattered if he did, he still needed to pay for his crimes. No matter the reasons he’d done it, he’d done too much harm already.

  But, the reasons that drove him to it were kind of reasonable, that’s what made me so uncomfortable. He wasn’t wrong about that part, but where he took it and what he’d become because of that systemic injustice was wrong. Life wasn’t fair, and even unjust at times, that didn’t justify becoming evil, or thinking he was above everyone else.

  No reason or injustice was good enough for him to mind and body rape people and put murderers back on the street. Just to make a point? Also, because he thought he was truly better than other people, that he felt justified in all he did, including taking his pleasure in whatever woman that caught his eye. That more than anything else enraged me.

  He wasn’t above the law, and neither was I.

  My lips quirked. I’d never turn to the dark side. Yes, super silly, and even inappropriate to joke about given the circumstances, but my mind was clawing its way out of a dark rage. I was infuriated, and I was trying to control myself. Even with that core of peace in me, it wasn’t easy.

  Point being, humor could light the dark, even when it was out of place, and my mind was grasping for straws.

  We walked into what looked like a living room. The floor had a short gray carpet, with white leather couches and chairs. There was a full wall display, as well as three end tables and a coffee table with a darker gray metal bases and ivory tops.

  He said, “Cake, show the latest coverage.”

  He gestured at a chair, while he sat on the end of one of the couches.

  I sat, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as a collage of coverage was played in front of me. All of it negative. All of them saying I was in the wrong, and I shouldn’t have broken the law even with good intentions. That I should’ve created a movement, and approached congress to lobby for change, not broken the laws, which I should now have to pay for.