by Drew Hayes
Grantham slammed a fist on the word “Fornax,” striking the bar and causing a thin sheet of ice to form along its top. He took a moment to compose himself, then allowed the bartender to set down his next beer. “If the AHC knew about this place, they would have come already.”
“Not even superheroes can keep control over the entire world, but I suspect the AHC will make time for us, should they learn of our positions. You remember Captain Bullshit’s warning: he has made us nigh impossible to find, but that protection fades once we reveal ourselves publicly, intentionally or otherwise.”
Despite the snort that escaped his lips, Grantham had no doubt the protection was real. It was the only explanation for how, in this new, digital age, not a single escaped criminal from Rookstone had been caught yet. Besides that, Captain Bullshit’s power was held in high regard. Were it in the hands of someone a little more focused, they might very well be the greatest meta in existence.
“That’s why you came all the way out here? To remind me that I need to be careful?”
“No. I came because there might be another way. Someone is making covert hires at the moment. They are funding everything from street-level enterprises to recruiting specialists of our level. I can’t say more at this juncture, but trust me when I say it is someone with experience.”
Sipping off the top of his drink, Grantham smacked his lips. He had to go into the damn tropics to manage it, but here the natural aura of cold put off by his body was dulled enough to allow for warm drinks to touch his lips. It didn’t seem like much, until the ten thousandth time a hot meal turned lukewarm the moment it hit his tongue.
“I’m not bending a knee to that guild. Call themselves villains all they like, but once you’ve got rules on you, you’re a cog in the machine, same as everyone else. Been a cog once. Not going back to that.”
Lozora shook her unnatural head. “Not the guild. Not anyone who’s been inside Rookstone, actually.”
Now that got Grantham’s attention. “I thought she’d rounded up all the major players.”
“There was a long time before her, before the AHC. Some enemies are older, smarter, and more patient. The largest, most fearsome alligators are the ones cunning enough to avoid hunters year after year. One of them is hiring, if that interests you.”
For a few minutes, there was no sound save for the occasional slurps of warm beer. At last, Grantham set his glass down, slowly shaking his head.
“Nah. I’m gonna pass. I know where this ends for me: in battle. Always in battle. I’ve only been out for a little while; I’d like to enjoy myself some more. Give the mystery employer my best, and let them know if something really interesting pops up, I won’t automatically kill an envoy—even if they aren’t as fearsome as you.”
“As expected. I cautioned them as much, but it was essential to try. Having the legendary Jokull on staff is the sort of opportunity that cannot be passed over.”
Grantham’s face tightened briefly, causing all the nearby staff to scamper back, but it relaxed seconds later. “No Jokull these days unless he’s necessary. Luckily, he hasn’t been needed since the last attempted insurrection. I think word has finally spread that shooting me while I’m like this only brings him forth.”
The pair of armed men on the other side of the hut exchanged sudden, fearful looks, then walked out as casually as they were able. Given the clanks of weaponry as they moved, it was not a particularly successful endeavor.
With a weary sigh, Grantham moved to rise from his seat, until Lozora’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Allow me. I’m heading out, anyway. A token of thanks, for your hospitality.”
Her long legs unfurled as she stood, making it out of the bar in a smattering of steps. Seconds later, Grantham heard the telltale thud of weighted bodies dropping into the dirt. That was Lozora—when she decided it was time to strike, most never even had a chance to scream.
Part of Grantham was curious to see where her endeavor would lead, but he’d been at this too long to jump at the first offer. Best to wait and let the real schemers get their plans in order. That was what would lead to a fight worth having.
That was when Jokull would return.
Chapter 9
Thursday evening was an unexpectedly busy one in Ivan’s townhome. Between having a cluster of Starscouts to prepare for next week and a clandestine organization of criminals reopening that weekend, Ivan was swamped. Some of the work had spilled over onto Tori, who was finding herself dealing with uncomfortable levels of nostalgia as she worked through the old Starscout materials.
Just as the sun was going down, Ivan got a call that had him leave the room. That in itself was par for the course; when they’d been living together, Tori had seen Ivan seek solitude for calls from Vendallia, the guild, and his kids. The man enjoyed his privacy. This time, however, he came back with an expression that was hard to read. Ivan always looked a little too serious for any given situation, yet this was different. Worry, she’d seen enough of on his visage to catch, but unless she was mistaken, there was a small twinkle of amusement in his eyes. It was the sort of potentially dangerous tell she’d learned to watch for years ago.
“I am pleased to announce that you are officially cleared to return to your apartment. The paparazzi gave up faster than we expected. Seems the ones who camped out always had an especially bad time, and the countermeasures to ensure your safety have been put into place. You’re free to head over as soon as you like.”
“Uh huh. And are we just going to skim past the word ‘countermeasures’ like that’s not some shit I should be read in on?” Tori paused her current work-in-progress—cutting out a few dozen cardboard circles that would be part of a crafting project for the Starscouts. “You’ve got a look about you. Is this something I should be concerned with?”
While it might have been Tori’s imagination, Ivan seemed to smile slightly, just for a sliver of a second. “Yes, it is, but if I were to forewarn you, it might complicate things further. The wheels are in motion. It’s not in our power to stop without experiencing serious repercussions. But the countermeasures were put in place by someone I trust, so in the end, I have faith that they’ll prove useful.”
If it was someone Ivan trusted, then that narrowed down the pool substantially. Outside of his kids, the only people Ivan seemed to trust were some of his fellow guild council members. The most likely candidate was Doctor Mechaniacal, except anything he added to the building, they all knew Tori would find and take apart. Maybe someone with magic, the polar opposite of her specialty. Arcanicus was on the council now and had stayed loyal to the guild during that nasty Balaam business. That made the most sense, and magic was weird, so it could account for why her knowing in advance would matter.
“Doesn’t seem like I have much choice in the matter.”
“You could move,” Ivan suggested. “Get a more secure place, and we’ll have our people protect the records so the new home wouldn’t slip out. Not pleasant, but sometimes, that is the best solution.”
It was true. She had no real attachment to the apartment; they’d only been there a few months. Except... this was the first home she’d chosen in a long time. Not a base, or a hideout, or a shelter: a home. Ivan’s garage apartment had been a nice stepping stone, but this was different. No one was driving her out until Tori was ready to go.
Besides, it would take too long to get a new lab up and running.
Tori brushed the shards of cardboard from her hands as she stood. “Fuck that. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, if you don’t mind, I’d like to head over. I’ve got some last-minute suit work I can pack in before things kick off this weekend.”
“I understand the sentiment to stay planted a little too well,” Ivan replied. “By all means. I appreciate the help you’ve already given. Go home, get some rest if you can manage it, and I’ll see you after work tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. The guild reopened tomorrow. It wasn’t like Tori had some grand scheme to rob a stock exchange cooking in the
back of her mind, yet she’d been surprised to find that once the Guild of Villainous Reformation had vanished from her life, she suddenly missed it. That was especially strange, given how she’d found her way into it, but she couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement in her chest at the thought of tomorrow. Some of the world’s most powerful, deadly people would be gathered together, making small talk, and Tori would be right there with them.
No, actually, that wasn’t quite right. Hephaestus would be the one in attendance, which was all the more reason Tori needed to get to work. She couldn’t very well show up to an event like that in unkempt attire. Beverly would have her head on a platter.
“I’ll be there with bells on. Well, with some kind of metal covering on.”
Ivan groaned, but Tori was almost positive she caught of a hint of chuckle in there as well.
The people walking past the newspaper box paid it no mind. These metal contraptions lingered despite their less frequent use, gravestones for print media even as it desperately grasped at the last vestiges of life. It was old, faded green, and had a dent on one side from an enthusiastic teen with a steel-toed boot. There was nothing of note about it, until there was.
No one could say where the package came from. A box, white as a page, bound with a ribbon the shade of purple that reminded those who saw the hue why purple was the color of royalty. The ribbon ended in crisp bow with a single end poking out. One tug is all it would take to undo the immaculate ribbon, and upon seeing it, every possessor of hands in the vicinity wanted to be the one to make that tug.
It was a child who was there first, her line of sight and position allowing her to reach the prize before anyone else. For curiosity’s sake, that was ideal. An adult would have had considerations, hesitations, thoughts and fears that would have stayed their hands. Children had no such hurdles to clear. When it came to presents, there was an immediate and optimal strategy: open it.
The ribbon gave with a single pull, fluttering lightly to the ground. Fast she could, the girl slipped a thumb under that pristine lid and yanked it up. For an instant, the box seemed empty. Not as if there was nothing inside, but rather as if it contained a vast and endless void, a chasm in existence through which one could slip and be lost forever. Then, from within that void came a voice that burst forth, thundering throughout the entire street.
“Expect the unexpected!”
A squeal broke from the girl’s lips as birds burst out of the box, which she quickly dropped and ran away from. They were all species and colors, an avian enthusiast’s dearest dream made manifest. So many, too many; the rainbow of wings began to blot out the sky, the roar of their flaps drowning out all other sounds. Within seconds, it was too loud to talk, the world growing dim as more and more birds sealed it off from the sun. Only when the sky was fully blanketed did the flapping stop.
No warning. One minute, all of the street in downtown Dash City was under birds. The next, they suddenly halted their wings. Rather than fall, every bird began to expand, growing, inflating, and finally bursting entirely. Rather than the expected rain of blood and viscera, each bird produced only a small puff of something in their demise.
Like the birds themselves, the strange puffy materials ranged the color spectrum, drifting down to cover everything below. It was once more a child who discovered this material’s true nature, knowing it on sight and popping it into their mouth before a very worried parent could stop them.
Cotton candy. The birds were exploding into cotton candy, which was now coating the street like a sugary snowstorm. It was bizarre, nonsensical, and disturbing on multiple levels. Only the younger people in attendance actually needed that signature line at the beginning. The rest had been around long enough to know a Captain Bullshit production when they saw one.
The car, piloted by one of Wade’s robotic drivers, dropped Tori off at the curb before her building. While there were no cameras or reporters there as Tori yanked her bag of clothes and sundries from the trunk, she did have to deal with a large moving van blocking off most of the front entrance. It was thanks to that van that she didn’t notice Beverly and Chloe coming up from the other side of the street, nearly colliding with the pair.
“Oh hey, Tori’s back just in time.” Chloe held up a large bag filled with to-go containers from a nearby noodle shop. “Beverly said you’d be here. This is pretty quick, though.”
“I got a text you were on your way just when we were ordering.” Beverly’s stare was harder than necessary, most likely because Tori hadn’t been the one to send any sort of message. It had no doubt come from Ivan, possibly relayed through another guild member like Thuggernaut.
Tori ignored the stare, reaching over instead to take one of Chloe’s plastic bags. “Must have caught the good traffic. You two got dumplings, right?” Her eyes were scanning the bag, hunting for any container that might have the proper dimensions.
“Somehow, we remembered your favorite dish from the place we eat at weekly.” Beverly threw an arm around Tori as they headed into the building, squeezing her tight. “I’m glad to see you’re okay. Curious about why they let you come back so soon, but that’s probably a discussion for closed doors.”
All three climbed the stairs, reaching their floor—the third—in short order. Here, however, they encountered a dilemma. Stretching out from the door two apartments down from their own was a giant couch. It was caught at an awkward angle, slightly too long to make the door’s corner as it came in from the hallway. Since it wasn’t able to go in, that left a hunk of furniture jutting out into the hall, blocking anyone from getting past. Even more odd was that this sizable couch was being held up by one man. Since his back was to them, they could only make out his substantial frame and golden hair.
“Austin, would you try pushing now? Gently!”
There was something familiar about that voice, something in the cadence. Tori couldn’t place it, though, and in seconds, she had something new to occupy her interest. In front of them, the big man shifted his weight, moving the couch slightly forward.
Snap.
“What was that?” The man holding the couch was the one yelling this time. There was a casual ease to his voice, an exact opposite of the tightly wound tone they’d heard coming from the apartment. It was strangely soothing and oddly calm, given the situation.
“One more thing to fix, apparently. Hang on. Ike’s going to grab a screwdriver, then Ellie and I will take the door off its hinges. Just... give me a minute.”
Since everyone involved in the move seemed content to wait, Tori loudly cleared her throat. Unloading a cumbersome couch was hardly a sin, but she wanted to get to dinner while it was hot. After so many days away from home, hitting a snag mere steps from the door was especially infuriating.
At the sound of her voice, the man holding the couch—presumably Austin—turned to face them. He was handsome, a classic chin paired with shaggy hair and eyes that were a tad too blue. Those eyes took in the scene, then stopped, suddenly.
Without warning, the couch went slamming to the ground with a worryingly loud thud. Tori braced for a charge, expecting some enemy that had slipped in and was about to ambush them. The attack never came. Instead, she realized that Austin had begun to blush and was hurriedly trying to pick the couch back up over the cries of protest from inside the apartment. Had he been holding that thing up on his own, and from the back end?
“My apologies, ladies—I mean, ma’ams, er... my apologies. We got caught up in the task at hand and I didn’t notice your arrival. Give me a moment, and I’ll make some space.”
While Austin was fumbling with the couch, acting strangely weak given what they’d all seen him do, new faces poked out from the doorway. The first was lean, with brown hair and serious eyes. Next was another blonde, this one female, and made up like she had somewhere fancy to be. Lastly was the lowest in the doorframe, a shorter fellow with a mischievous grin already in place.
“Oh! It’s you.” The woman, Ellie by process of elimination,
stared right at Tori for a full three seconds before the dark-haired man next to her gave a quick elbow. “I mean, it’s you, our down-the-hall neighbors.”
“Either that, or you picked the worst time to come tour one of the available units.” When he spoke, the lean one confirmed himself to be the owner of the tightly wound voice. Most of that vanished as he stepped forward, however, adopting a far more relaxed demeanor. “Sorry about the bad first impression. I’m Kyle, the lunk handling most of the couch is Austin, the guy next to me is Ike, and that just leaves Ellie.”
Beverly took charge of their end, sparing Tori and Chloe the trouble. “I’m Beverly. This is Tori and Chloe. You all seem nice, but we’ve got hot food we’d like to eat soon, so if it’s not too much trouble, could you make a gap that we can squeeze past?”
At Beverly’s words, Austin had stopped working entirely, but the moment her request was verbalized, he sprang into action. Another loud snap echoed from within the apartment as Austin hurriedly jammed the couch into a new angle, this one offering enough clearance for a person to fit through. Although Tori saw Kyle wince at the noise, he said nothing.
“Thanks... Austin, wasn’t it?” Beverly paused as she walked past. “When we’re not in such a hurry, I’ll bring these two over and we’ll do proper introductions.”
“That sounds lovely.” Despite the fact that she and Chloe were right on Beverly’s heels, Austin’s attention hovered on them cursorily, only flickering their way long enough to ensure they made it through the gap safely. The rest of the time, his eyes seemed to be at war with themselves, trying to look at Beverly, then stopping and jerking away.
