CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-EIGHT

Assessment Day

“Are you alright, Herculean?” Warden Salvatore asked.

“Um”—Sam was glancing over his shoulder with his brow creasing more and more with each second his gaze took in the sight behind him—“are hero assessments always this crowded?”

He was halfway up the steps leading to the front doors of the Wardens Abbey located at the heart of New York’s 5th Avenue when he noticed the large crowd of spectators gathered on the street below.

“Not usually, no,” Warden Salvatore admitted. “To be fair, you aren’t what I’d call a normal examinee either.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah… I guess.”

It had been three days since the incident the media had dubbed ‘Prison Break at the Volcano’ which was enough time for the press to expose its nitty-gritty details to the public, including the fact that Sam had been one of the heroes, who, as the Herald wrote, “Failed to keep thirty-seven high-profile villains from escaping a supposedly maximum-security prison inside the crater of an active volcano on a secret tropical island in the Pacific.”

Of course, this led to a general outcry of panic and fear that quickly shifted to outrage and mistrust aimed at the heroes, who, as the Herald wrote, “Failed to fulfill their duty when it was needed most.” And, being the only vigilante in an all-star group featuring Crow-Man, Thunder, and Superion, Sam became the main focus of public scrutiny.

“He held them back with his inexperience,” one expert had suggested. While a professor from Harvard’s School of Heroics claimed, “It’s not that we don’t know he’s got potential—we’ve seen proof of his heroics many times now. But it’s very hard to trust a gifted who isn’t registered simply because we don’t know whether someone who tries to do good but hides from the law is trustworthy or not.”

New York Councilman Matt Stevens, the man who’d recently garnered attention for authoring the bill for stricter regulations on the city’s hero registration law had also expressed his disappointment that “A menace like Herculean shouldn’t be allowed to take the hero assessment. He should be tried in court for his vigilantism!”

Thankfully, Sam’s media exposure wasn’t all bad. Despite containing the word ‘Menace!’ above a picture of Herculean on its front page, yesterday’s Herald also shared an op-ed piece from Lara Zamora where she suggested that “the uncertainty and mistrust surrounding Herculean should be washed away as soon as he goes through with his hero assessment because the public just wants to know that he’s willing to play within the boundaries of the law.”

It was this article that encouraged Thunder to push Sam into moving his hero assessment up to the next day instead of their original plan of coming out after they’d taken the Golden Fleece back from Chimera.

“Lara’s right. It’s time the world learns what I know… you’re the real deal,” Thunder had said.

Now, however, as he turned away from the flashing lights and distrustful looks aimed at him, Sam wondered why he’d ever listened to Thunder.

“I should have waited for the Crucible thing to die down first,” he said under his breath.

Wouldn’t matter, kid… there’d be a crowd here even if you laid low for a year, Chiron assured him.

“The fate of an Argonaut, huh,” Sam whispered. To which Chiron replied, Ain’t that the gospel truth.

Sam recalled the last thing Superion had said to him when they parted after that meeting in Bethany’s office.

“To go from one big crisis after another while the world watches at the edge of their seats, that’s the fate of an Argonaut, Herc,” America’s number one hero had said.

It was a statement that clued a wide-eyed Sam onto the fact that his idol was also one of his predecessors. “Y-you’re an Argonaut?!”

“Who do you think made Thunder an Argonaut?” Superion had chuckled.

A chant of “boo!” assaulted Sam’s ears, wiping away the reminiscence of his first meeting with America’s number one hero while also drowning out the applause Sam was getting from the few fans who’d arrived outside the abbey wearing his colors of blue and bronze and masks fashioned to look like the mask that kept his identity secret from the masses.

Yes, Sam was indeed wearing his Mask of the Argonaut despite temporarily trading his hero gear for a blue suit and bronze tie. And no, he hadn’t chosen the outfit himself. That was Thunder’s doing. “You go look presentable and trustworthy while I make sure Mr. Moonday updates your suit in time for your first big sponsorship signing,” she’d said to him yesterday.

“You’ve got some interesting fans there, Herculean,” Warden Salvatore noted.

Sam’s gaze drifted to the twenty or so middle-aged men and teenage boys with their signboards of ‘I’M A HERACLID TOO!’ and ‘SCREW THE ESTABLISHMENT’ plus ‘VIGILANTES ARE COOL’ and wondered if his fringe audience would still like him after he sold out and gave up his vigilante status.

More lights flashed over his vision, forcing Sam to hurry away from the anxiety-inducing scene on the street below.

“Are we sure this is the right thing to do?” he asked under his breath.

Lesson number one, kid, Chiron reminded him.

“But what if the assessment reveals—”

The assessment won’t reveal squat… I helped make it, remember? Chiron reassured him. Now stop dawdling on the steps and get up there already!

“No one says dawdling anymore,” Sam countered.

With a final sigh, Sam joined Warden Salvatore at the top step and then followed him toward the abbey’s entrance; two twenty-foot iron doors engraved with the Wardens’ symbol of the Egyptian ‘Eye of Wisdom’ at the hilt of a Viking broadsword laid over a round Athenian Aegis—symbolic symmetry representing the three most powerful pantheons in western civilization.

“Justice, harmony, and sacrifice… the Wardens’ three tenets,” Warden Salvatore explained. “You ever think of changing professions?”

“Already did that once… didn’t like it,” Sam admitted.

“Well”—Warden Salvatore nodded to the two men in gray suits stationed on either side of the entrance—“if you ever decide it’s getting too much for you… we Wardens have a great healthcare plan.”

From the outside, the Warden’s Abbey looked like an oversized version of a gothic church similar to Westminster Abbey in London or St. Patrick’s Cathedral just a few buildings down this same road. Its interior, however, had become quite modern over the years in its attempt to keep up with society’s efforts to marry the divine with science. No sooner had Warden Salvatore led him through those doors when Sam was bombarded by DNA scanners, metal detectors, power-dampening rays, and even the standard pat-down conducted by the furriest security guard Sam had ever met.

“Gr~~r,” growled the bear-man in the too-tight gray suit.

“That’s Warden Growler’s way of saying hello,” Warden Salvatore whispered into Sam’s ear.

“Oh, um,” Sam eyed the bear-man’s pointy teeth,” hello… sir.”

After that long entryway was a garden cloister much like what one might find inside a monastery, although the grass and shrubs featured here were already beginning to show signs of winter’s first days. An atmosphere of serenity filled this space which Warden Salvatore admitted was entirely artificial.

“We’ve set up wards with calming psychic pulses used for keeping visitors relaxed,” he explained.

“And easily subdued,” Sam guessed. To which Chiron added, lulled into a false sense of security before wham, bam, thank you, ma’am—and next thing you know, you’re in an interrogation chamber eager to spill your beans for whatever crimes they think you’ve committed.

At the other end of the cloister was a five-story Gothic-styled building gilded with the trappings of the Wardens and the pantheons that sponsored them. While on the cloister’s right stood a smaller chapel made entirely of glass. It was to this chapel’s entrance that Warden Salvatore brought Sam.

“This is New York’s best assessment hall. You haven’t been here before, have you?” Warden Salvatore asked.

“Low-level gifted don’t get invited into a place like this,” Sam reasoned.

“The higher-ups don’t think our Queens office has the right equipment to properly assess your gift which they think is the reason your ranking was fumbled the first time you took an assessment,” Warden Salvatore explained.

Sam felt a twinge of guilt that his little secret might have caused the Wardens’ office in Queens some trouble, but there was no way he could reveal Triple-A’s existence now.

“Oh, yeah”—Sam was eager to shake off his guilty conscience by changing the topic to—“do you know what the Wardens’ plans are for recapturing the thirty-seven convicts who escaped the Crucible?”

“As you know, Crow-Man’s heading up a coalition of heroes that’ll help us catch these guys. Ice Brand and Miracle Girl are onboard. Superion has a lot of other responsibilities, but he promised to help if we need him,” Warden Salvatore explained. “Which leaves you and Thunder…”

Warden Salvatore didn’t know this, but Sam and Thunder had to bow out of the coalition because they were already on a mission to reclaim the Golden Fleece from Chimera’s clutches. He was admittedly worried about the Trickster being free, but Crow-Man had assured Sam that he would catch the villain before he wreaked havoc on the world while also promising to update Sam and Thunder about any hint of the Trickster’s prophecy coming true.

“What about the Wardens?” Sam asked. “Will Bethany, uh, will Warden Carlyle be working with the coalition too?”

“Warden Carlyle’s part of my joint task force,” Warden Salvatore answered.

“Your joint task force?” Sam repeated.

This prompted the young warden to explain that he’d been named leader of the joint task force charged by both the U.N. Security Council and the U.S. Department of Justice with hunting down the Crucible’s escaped convicts that the media had dubbed the ‘Dirty Dozens’. It was a name that would have made more sense to Sam if there were thirty-six escaped villains and not the thirty-seven who were currently at large.

“Dude, that’s amazing… Congrats,” Sam said.

“Thanks.” Warden Salvatore grinned sheepishly. “It is a big responsibility though.”

“Indeed,” said the man who’d just walked out of the assessment hall’s front door.

The tall, middle-aged man in the crisp gray suit had short-cropped salt and pepper hair and a villain’s mustache underneath his large hooked nose. There were crinkles around his eyes which were blue like the ocean on a cloudless afternoon.

“Welcome to the Warden’s Abbey, Samuel Shepard.” Despite his greeting, nothing was welcoming in Warden Captain Malarkey’s tone.

“Um, I’m not—”

“Let’s dispense with the pretense, Shepard.” Warden Malarkey waved away Sam’s protest. “I’ve always known who you were despite your repeated denials.”

Sam gulped. “I don’t know—”

“All registered heroes are required to provide the registry with their given names along with the monikers they’ve adopted.” Warden Malarkey wrapped his arms over his chest while staring pointedly at Sam’s nervous face. “So, still want to lie about your identity?”

Styx… Sam flashed Warden Malarkey a reproachful look that quickly withered under the senior warden’s scrutinizing gaze. Luckily for him, that’s when Warden Salvatore decided to step in.

“No one’s allowed to look at the registry without due cause or approval from a judicial court… not even wardens.” Warden Salvatore gave his superior a pointed look before turning back to Sam with a reassuring smile. “Your secret identity is safe, and you don’t have to tell any warden who you are if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, cool.” Sam gave Warden Salvatore a grateful look. “Good to know.”

“Assuming you really are done with your vigilante ways.” Warden Malarkey eyed his subordinate with the same pointed stare Warden Salvatore had just given him. “I’ll take it from here, Steven… you have other more important tasks to complete.”

The warden captain turned on his heel and walked back into the glass building without waiting for a response.

“He’s not happy you got chosen to lead the task force, huh,” Sam guessed. To which Chiron added, I love how cutthroat and petty you humans can be.

“Malarkey doesn’t think I’m ready for the promotion,” Warden Salvatore replied. “Admittedly, it is a lot of work… and I could use the help of the hero who’d saved more lives than anyone else during the prison break.”

“Y-you seriously want my help?” Sam asked.

Warden Salvatore offered Sam his hand. “I read the newspapers like everyone else, but I also have Bethany Carlyle on speed-dial, and everything she’s told me about you… Honestly, it makes me want to believe in you too.”

Sam used to believe that inspiring others was something only a top hero like Thunder could do. But, as he watched hope appear briefly on Warden Salvatore’s face, Sam realized that he had finally started to walk the path of becoming the symbol he’d promised Hope he would become.

“Wow… that’s…” Sam shook Warden Salvatore’s hand while feeling some of his anxiety wash away. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Warden Salvatore asked.

With a determined expression, Sam pulled open the glass door leading into the assessment hall. “Reminding me why I wanted to quit being a vigilante.”