Tournament of Heroes

5. BEAMS

Beams sat at the dining room table in the Winner’s Suite by himself late at night, barely focused on the small plate of spaghetti that constituted a late dinner for him tonight. He wasn’t even looking at his food. He was staring at his phone, browsing the Internet (which apparently worked in the Nexus), but even then, his attention wasn’t actually on the screen, either.

No. Beams was thinking. And mostly, he was thinking about how he and the others had failed.

Bolt is gone, Beams thought. Destiny, it seems, really is inevitable.

After Sigil finished reading the Prophecy to them last night, he had sent all of the competitors back to their rooms. Beams and his Teammates had tried to stay, but then Sigil summoned a dozen Security Armors to ‘escort’ them back to the Winner’s Suite. Knowing they couldn’t defeat the Security Armors, Beams and his Teammates had complied with their orders to return to their rooms, though not happily. The other Teams had been forced to return to their Team rooms in the commons area of the Universal Castle, likely for the same reason as his Team had.

And not so we can prepare for tomorrow’s match, Beams thought with a sigh. No. He sent us back to our rooms to make sure that the Prophecy is fulfilled. And it’s starting to look like it just might happen.

But more than anything, Beams felt guilty about poor Mr. Space. Mr. Space, not being a Tournament competitor, had been immediately whisked away by Sigil to an unknown location. Beams didn’t know where Space had been taken, but something told him it was probably not anywhere safe.

Space might be kind of a loser, but at least he tried to help us, Beams thought, his grip tightening on his fork. Now he’s probably not even alive anymore. It’s not like he was mentioned in the Prophecy, after all. Sigil has no reason to spare his life.

Yet even worse than that—with respect to Mr. Space, who was likely dead—was Bolt’s fate. Beams was still not entirely sure how this whole ‘Dark Thunder’ thing happened, but he didn’t like it. The cruelty he saw in Bolt’s face was not him. The real Bolt could be impulsive sometimes, maybe even a bit of a jerk. But he was still a good person at heart, a real hero, who would never serve Sigil as his servant.

But if Dark Thunder is to be believed, then Bolt is dead, Beams thought. He stabbed his fork into his spaghetti. And now, the multiverse itself is at risk of destruction. Our only hope at stopping Sigil—translating the Prophecy—failed. Totally and utterly.

Beams hadn’t even bothered to try to contact Trickshot. For that matter, he still had no idea how Winter and Cyclone’s quest into the Dark Dungeon was going. He suspected, however, that it probably was not going very well.

They will probably be all right even if Sigil finds out what they’re doing, Beams thought. Not like there’s anything in the Dark Dungeon that could help us, though. Even if Sigil doesn’t find them, it doesn’t matter. We failed. All we can do is play our parts according to the Prophecy. That is all.

A hand tapped Beams’ shoulder. He looked up to see Rubberman standing over him, a concerned look on his boss’ face.

“Hey, Beams, you okay?” said Rubberman. “You’ve been stabbing that spaghetti like it insulted your mother.”

Rubbing his eyes, Beams looked around and noticed that the Winner’s Suite was very dark. “Huh? Where did the Necromantress and Iron Angel go?”

“They both went to bed,” Rubberman said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Apparently, they want to get rested for tomorrow’s match.”

Beams scowled and looked into his spaghetti again. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Are you going to bed, too?”

“Soon, yes,” said Rubberman with a nod. “Just wanted to check on you first, though, and make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” said Beams. He didn’t look at Rubberman when he said that. “Although I could use a good night’s sleep, too.”

Rubberman frowned. “Beams, I know you’re upset. I can’t blame you. That prophecy sent chills down my spine, too.”

“I never said the Prophecy was—”

“Beams, don’t,” said Rubberman gently. “I know you well enough by now to know what bothers you. But I know that Bolt’s corruption bothers you even more.”

Beams froze, but then relaxed, his shoulders slumping forward. “It does. I’m not sure why. The Prophecy should bother me more, but it doesn’t.”

“Because Bolt was not just your friend, but a symbol for us all,” said Rubberman. “That’s why.”

Beams looked up at Rubberman again on confusion. “What do you mean by that? Bolt was a friend, sure, but a symbol?”

“Haven’t you noticed how everyone looks up to him?” said Rubberman. “I remember how, shortly after the Dread God incident, you asked me when we could see Bolt again. Even the villains seem disheartened by his fall. For whatever reason, we all saw Bolt as the symbol of resistance against Sigil, which is why his corruption has hit all of us hard.”

“I … guess so,” said Beams. “I didn’t know you cared that much about Bolt.”

“That’s the thing,” said Rubberman with a chuckle. “I don’t. Not on a personal level, anyway. I respect Bolt, but I don’t consider him a friend in the way that you do and I don’t know him that well individually. But I do recognize a real hero when I see one, and Bolt is a real hero, maybe even more of a hero than I am.”

Beams sighed. “And now we lost him. Maybe for good.”

“Maybe,” said Rubberman, “or maybe not. I can’t say because this dark energy stuff is above my pay grade. Shawna might understand it better than me, but she seemed as depressed and defeated as the rest of us, so she might not be able to help us.”

Beams scowled. “Why are you even talking to me about this stuff, anyway? Just trying to depress me?”

“No,” said Rubberman, shaking his head. “I just wanted to let you know that you’re not the only one worrying about Bolt. I imagine that his girlfriend, Blizzard, must be even more worried than the rest of us.”

Beams grimaced, remembering Blizzard’s heartbroken expression when Dark Thunder announced that he didn’t know her. “She definitely is. I can tell you that even without talking to her.”

“Exactly,” said Rubberman. “I wish I could comfort her, too, but I can’t. If you need to talk, then I just want you to know that I’m always available, okay?”

Beams nodded, although he didn’t smile. “Sure, boss. I know that. I just wish … oh, never mind. Good night.”

Rubberman nodded as well, though he wasn’t smiling, either. He patted Beams on the shoulder one last time before turning around and walking toward the door with his name on it. Beams watched as Rubberman opened the door and disappeared within, securely locking the door behind him on his way in.

Beams looked at his spaghetti, which was now cold. He suddenly didn’t feel so hungry anymore. He pushed his spaghetti plate before him and lowered his head onto his chest.

Rubberman wasn’t just Beams’ boss. He was also a father figure to Beams in a lot of ways, even though Beams already had a dad who he was on good terms with. He appreciated Rubberman offering to talk to him about anything he needed to talk about, but Beams’ analytical mind could not help but notice that Rubberman didn’t offer any solutions to their current situation, either.

Can’t blame him, Beams thought. Figuring out how to subvert destiny itself is not something taught in college business classes. Or in superhero courses, for that matter.

“Why the long face, kid?” said a voice Beams did not recognize from within the darkness. “Chin up. It could be worse.”

Startled, Beams looked up. At first, he didn’t see anyone in the darkness of the Winner’s Suite, but then a figure stepped out from the shadows. He was a young man in his mid-twenties, wearing a gray suit with equally gray eyes. His body, however, appeared insubstantial, as if he was a hologram than a solid, physical being.

The man looked familiar to Beams, but he couldn’t quite place his name. He did, however, rise from his chair, his hands balled at his sides. “Who are you and how did you get into the Winner’s Suite?”

“Ah, right,” said the man, wagging his finger at Beams. “I forgot. I’ve met Bolt and Trickshot, but haven’t met you. That’s why you don’t recognize me, even though you saw me die a few hours ago.”

“Saw you die—?” Beams gasped. “Noah House?”

Noah smiled. “You remember my name! Wonderful. It means we can skip the introductions. I already know who you are, of course, courtesy of the Defiants’ spy within the Universal Castle.”

Beams rubbed his eyes and looked at Noah again. “But … how? I saw Dark Thunder kill you. He punched you through the heart. You should be dead.”

Noah adjusted his coat. “Well, I did say you saw me die, didn’t I? Because I did. And yes, it was every bit as painful as you might expect. I don’t recommend dying. It’s not fun.”

“But you’re here,” said Beams. “In the flesh.”

“Not quite,” said Noah, shaking his head. “Observe.”

Noah walked toward Beams. There was a guardrail between the living room area of the Winner’s Suite and the dining room area. Noah was just about to walk into the guardrail, but as it turned out, Beams didn’t need to warn him about that. Noah just passed through the guardrail like it did not exist and stopped a few feet from the table, a smirk on his face.

“Huh?” said Beams. “Did you just walk through the guardrail?”

“Yep,” said Noah. He patted his chest. “I’m a ghost. Or close enough to it, anyway. Truthfully, I’m as surprised as you are. I didn’t expect the Soul Chain I bought in the marketplace last month to actually work. I am sure that the greasy Pokacu merchant I bought it from will be pleased to hear that, assuming I ever get a chance to speak to him.”

“Soul Chain?” said Beams. “What’s that?”

“A powerful magic artifact,” Noah replied, “from outside of the Nexus. It comes from a universe where magic is both very real and very powerful. According to legend, anyone who dies while wearing a Soul Chain becomes a spirit. That’s why I’m still here, rather than floating off to whatever counts as the afterlife in the Nexus.”

“Oh,” said Beams. He frowned. “Then why are you talking to me? I don’t know you.”

Noah stroked his chin. “There’s the catch. My spirit isn’t free-floating. I can’t just go wherever I want whenever I want. A spirit released from a Soul Chain must attach itself to another living being, otherwise said spirit will go to the afterlife. Normally, I would have attached myself to one of my fellow Defiants, but seeing as none of my fellow Defiants were close enough, I ended up choosing you instead.”

Beams put a hand over his heart, feeling it beat under his palm. “Does that mean my body has two souls in it now? Can you control my body?”

Noah waved his hand. “No, no, no. Notice I said ‘attach.’ Not possessed. You’re still in complete control over your body. I’m merely using your body as a power source of sorts, to put it in terms you might understand. My soul is drawing upon the energy of your soul, allowing me to maintain a semblance of my original self. That is how I can keep all of my memories and personality traits, in effect, be me even without my body.”

Beams would have said that made no sense, but he had already seen a lot of things that didn’t make sense in the Nexus, so he just nodded to show that he understood. “Can you interact with other people?”

“That’s another problem,” said Noah. He patted his chest again. “So long as I remain attached to your body, only you can see me. No one else can see me. Heck, no one can even hear me. Well, a magically-talented person might be able to, but being able to see souls is not an easy thing to do, magically-speaking, so I don’t think anyone in the Tournament will see me.”

“Even the Necromantress?” Beams questioned.

Noah laughed. “That woman? She might consider herself the mistress of the dead, but I’ve seen five-year-olds with a better grasp over necromancy than her. Trust me, she is as spiritually blind as everyone else. Which is fine by me because my plan only works as long as everyone assumes I’m dead.”

“Plan?” Beams repeated. “What plan?”

Noah smiled. “Aren’t you wondering why I chose to appear to you now? Why I hid myself until you were back in the Winner’s Suite and you were alone?”

Beams gaped. “You mean you planned to die and attach your soul to me?”

“Not quite,” said Noah. “But the Soul Chain was Plan B. And I always have a Plan B, even when it’s not necessary. Ask my fellow Defiants. They can tell you all about my Plan Bs.”

“So you thought there was a chance you would die and wanted to give yourself a chance to survive,” said Beams. “Is that right?”

“Bingo, kid,” said Noah. He leaned against the guardrail somehow, even though he was completely intangible. “And you’re going to help me pull it off.”

“Pull it off, huh?” said Beams. “Why would I?”

Noah’s dark eyes twinkled in the shadows. “Because Plan B involves killing Sigil … and saving Bolt, too.”