by Drew Hayes
Ivan nodded. As her manager and former mentor, Wade had probably looped Ivan in before even she got the final confirmations. “I may never find a more competent, or surly, assistant.”
“Oh, you absolutely will not,” Tori agreed. “My point was that I’m glad you’ll be around here, since I won’t see you as much in the outside world. Probably still going to need a lot of advice, now that I’m a small-time celebrity on top of being one of the world’s most promising new supervillains.”
The lifted eyebrow of skepticism was much more akin to the Ivan expression Tori was used to, and she even took some comfort in the mild incredulity of his tone. “Decided on that title for yourself?”
“I stood against one of Professor Quantum’s old nemeses and killed a crook with a much grander reputation than my own. If any of the other newbies can top that, they’re welcome to claim the title for themselves.”
“They can’t.” Ivan’s words were praise, yet the ones that followed were tinged with warning. “For now.”
“Like I said, I’m already in the process of making sure I don’t fall behind the pack.” Tori checked her watch, realizing that all these delays had put her behind schedule, and she did not want to make Beverly late. Her roommate could be a tad tyrannical about staying on time—at least when it was something Beverly wanted to do. “On that note, better hustle. Let’s do a dinner around here next week, though. I heard Scrap-Rabble opened a spot on the island with food like no one has ever tasted before.”
A momentary look of mock-fear washed over Ivan’s face. “Knowing Scrap-Rabble, that could encompass a great many options indeed.” The pseudo-terror was fast replaced by a genuine smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”
They broke apart on that note, Tori wasting no more time on winding paths. All that slowed her pace was a short text reply to Donald reading: “Love to. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can talk schedule.” No sense in having a mentor if she wasn’t going to learn from him, and Ivan was a prime example on the importance of balance. Maybe staying friends with someone on the other side would prove to be impossible long-term; however, she still wanted to try. Aside from everything she’d gone through with some of the capes, having bonds outside the guild would keep her from slipping in too deep as well—something important to keep in mind while laying low.
That done, she made as direct a line as possible to her guild laboratory, now hers long-term thanks to the deal with Wade. He’d comped her a year for free, after which, they’d revisit the issue and see if the space still suited her needs. By the time she needed to pay actual rental rates, money from the venture would be rolling in, though most of it was already earmarked for meta-suit development.
Finally making her way inside, Tori went straight to the reason she’d popped in for a visit: her new material was ready. She powered up the huge machine carefully, checking to see that everything had executed as programmed before opening the release chamber. Considering the unknown substance she’d been working with, there was a chance her creation could be toxic, if not outright destructive.
Resting atop a large podium ten feet away, suspended in a miniature gravitational field, was the bony finger of Alfred Settler. Even disconnected from the main body, it was corrosive—the damn thing had eaten through nearly all of her suit’s hidden compartments by the time she got it back to the apartment lab, and rigging up transport to the guild had taken half a day. From there had come the material scans, trying to figure out precisely what this nigh-indestructible substance was made from, and how much could be replicated.
Several of the elements the scanner found were totally foreign, unlike anything Tori had ever seen. Others were rarer, certain trace meta-minerals like erlestrite and cadinphode that were formed by exposing more common materials to meta-elements, such as setlium. Or vernium, apparently, since Alfred’s own internal energy must have formed them in his body. Those would be integrated in later versions, when Tori had the cash to spare.
Right now, she’d found a hopefully stable build at around a seventy percent structural match. Replacing the missing elements had been the hardest part; up until today, every attempt had resulted in a pile of sludge, at best. Getting an alert that one of the sequences had produced something viable was all it took to send her rushing back to the guild.
Hitting the final buttons, a section of the large machine spun away from the wall, revealing a tightly sealed chamber. After a few seconds and some loud clangs, the door began to release its locks before slowly swinging open. Tori waited as the soft hiss of smoke cleared, showing her a rectangular hunk of metal. All readings indicated it was non-corrosive, but she still tapped it gently with a pinky finger, waiting for any telltale burn or tingle. Nothing: only cold metal, though Tori wondered if it shouldn’t be a tad colder. Trusting her instruments, she lifted the material up, bringing it out into the bright lights of the laboratory.
“Guess it’s a good thing my suit was already black.” She’d anticipated as much, given the coloration of the source material, but this was a step further than expected. More than dark, it absorbed a higher amount of light than anything she’d seen short of specialized cloaking fabrics. Handy for working at night, she supposed.
Setting the material against a far wall, Tori headed over to a table, where the remains of her meta-suit were splayed out. A few bits would be salvaged for version number two; however, most of it was going to need to be rebuilt from the ground up. She was planning to do cosmetic repairs on this one, even if it was getting retired, then see about procuring a glass case for display. Just because it was time to move on didn’t mean she wasn’t proud of where she’d started.
From the table, Tori plucked her still-functioning gauntlet, the only piece of the suit to already receive full repairs. As the strongest weapon she had, it was also the best option for testing her new metal. Alfred had taken this kind of shot without missing a step, and soon, she’d be able to do the same. Because that was the danger in fighting a thief and letting them live. A good one never walked away entirely empty-handed.
Tapping the side of her laptop to wake it up, Tori clicked on the recording program and activated various scanners. The silver lining to a week of failed attempts, she’d had plenty of time to prep for once something stable came along. “Hephaestus Version Two, Settler Metal Test Number One.” Flexing the gauntlet, she fueled it with power, flames cascading off her hidden hand and into the system. Without the helmet on, there was no indicator signal—she’d just used the weapons enough to learn the timing. Bit by bit, the energy level climbed as Tori got herself into position, drawing a direct line on the square of metal waiting across the room. By the time she was ready, so was the gauntlet, and she saw no reason to keep Beverly waiting with needless delays.
“Let’s see just how tough I’m going to be.”
With EMTs keeping the driver calm and his car set safely back on the ground, Lodestar was preparing to leave. There wasn’t any crime to record, just a tired driver on a mountain road who’d tried too sharp of a turn. Lucky for him, Lodestar was flying the skies.
She’d been doing that quite a few times over the past week—whenever a certain young woman named Penelope was otherwise occupied, in fact. It was getting excessive, and she knew it, but for the moment, it was nice to have control over some part of her life. As Lodestar, she could always make a difference, always be of use, always know the right path forward. It was the human side where things got muddled. Yet that same uncertainty and confusion were what made it essential. Humans weren’t sure of every move they made—losing that would mean losing a piece of what kept her... Helen.
A step down a path she was determined to avoid for as long as absolutely possible.
Before she could take to the skies, a figure appeared next to her. If the sudden emergence from nowhere and the dirty overcoat hadn’t tipped her off, the kaleidoscope eyes would have. Nexus was a thorn that couldn’t be plucked, not permanently. Beating him didn’t matter. He always came back, the same as
before. Lodestar decided to open politely tonight. She didn’t want there to be any more conflict than necessary, especially given the scales of destruction Nexus could operate on.
“Out for an evening stroll?”
“Countless,” he agreed. “Though only the one with you. This you, anyway. Others who wear the name, or the power, there are scant few worth watching. This world is special, however.”
“I’m already aware that we have multiple Singulars, just like I know that I’m not one of them. What else can I help you with?”
He stalked around the grass at the road’s side, looking with eyes that saw far more than even his most cryptic ramblings went on. It would be easy to dismiss Nexus, as many had early on, except that he constantly knew more than anyone should. Not always accurate information, but often enough that he couldn’t be fully ignored, no matter how much smarter a tactic that might be. “You can heed my warning: you need to be more careful. I have seen what happens when a Lodestar dies, and do not wish for a world as interesting as this one to share the same fate.”
Something in her, a piece of human fear long left dormant, stirred slightly. “Lodestars don’t die. You can get rid of the person, not the power. Basically every villain I went against with any multiverse access hunted for weaknesses, and the results always came back the same.”
“Ah, yes, no worlds where a Lodestar has fallen. But that doesn’t mean such worlds didn’t exist. I saw it happen, in a place many degrees separated from your universe, yet you wouldn’t find entirely unfamiliar. Another world with multiple Singulars, such a pleasure to watch unfold. When they decided to use their abilities in tandem, I expected the same result as you, but to my surprise, they succeeded at the seemingly impossible task. Combining talents found solely in their world, the trio managed to slay their version of Lodestar. It was such a battle, the very planet shook by the end. I was enraptured at the pageantry. Then, it ended.”
“That’s it? In a different corner of the multiverse, somebody allegedly killed a Lodestar, and you were so concerned that it seemed prudent to give me a warning?” Was he playing at something? Madness didn’t mean Nexus couldn’t be cunning. Perhaps this was part of a larger plan.
Something like a sad cackle split from Nexus’s lips as he stared at her with those shattered eyes. “There are plenty like you to watch, same story of self-denial and sadness echoed over and over. But this world has Singulars which make it fascinating, because their presence renders everything harder to predict, yet also means you might be killable here. That is why I came to give my warning. I do not want to see this world share the same fate.”
Thinking back on Nexus’s exact words, Lodestar caught a turn of phrase she’d initially missed, and suddenly, she felt as nauseated as if she’d been using super-speed for too long. “Nexus, when you say it ended, you do mean the fight, don’t you?”
Reaching into the roadside grass, Nexus tore up a handful, then blew it into the wind, each piece drifting over the mountain’s edge. “Gone, in a matter of moments. One light after another simply faded away, an entire universe collapsed into nothingness. Some of me barely made out it; some didn’t at all. I felt it to the end, the crushing obliteration. That power you wield may well be each universe’s greatest defense, but in balance, it also represents a critical weakness. No one can find a universe where Lodestar has died, because to kill a Lodestar is to end that universe. They do not leave remains, only emptiness.”
It was an absolutely lunatic statement—except deep down, part of Helen always knew there had to be a cost. That was the way things worked, or had worked, for a long time. Just the act of wielding the power had taken nearly everything from her, time and time again. That its existence represented a danger as well as a defense... it tracked with her understanding. However, that didn’t mean she was going to take Nexus at face value.
“I suppose it would be pointless to ask you for proof.”
“Very much so. I have none to offer, save only for the truth in my words.” He lumbered toward her, half lunge, half fall, stopping a few feet short. “Take care, Lodestar, and if I arrive to give you caution, then heed it. This world is too entertaining. I’m not yet ready for the curtain to fall.”
Then he was gone, as instantly as he’d arrived.
Lifting off, Lodestar flew up into the night sky, trying not to dwell too hard on his ramblings. Even if the story was true, the world he’d cited had needed multiple Singulars to accomplish the task, and by definition, none of them would be present here. Nevertheless, she already knew this was a lead that had to be chased down, as discreetly as possible. If her death would put the entire universe in danger, then that was something she’d quite like to know.
Floating up higher, she looked down upon the planet below. So messy, chaotic, flawed, and human, Helen loved this world so very much. Even now, people were making mistakes, getting into danger, looking to the heavens in the hopes of some sudden miracle to save the day. And she, of all people, was lucky enough to be able to give that help, to offer that second chance when it was needed most. Despite all it had taken from her, Lodestar enjoyed this view and everything that came with it. Even the burdens of the role were familiar weights at this point.
Shooting down from the sky, her eyes scanned about, searching for those in peril. Theoretical deaths could wait for another day. Right now, she had an entire world to keep safe. In a burst of light, Lodestar shot down into the city, flying toward a cry for help that was about to be answered in spectacular fashion.
End of Villains’ Code: Book #2
Other Novels by Drew Hayes
About the Author
Drew Hayes is an author from Texas who has now found time and gumption to publish a few books. He graduated from Texas Tech with a B.A. in English, because evidently he's not familiar with what the term "employable" means. Drew has been called one of the most profound, prolific, and talented authors of his generation, but a table full of drunks will say almost anything when offered a round of free shots. Drew feels kind of like a D-bag writing about himself in the third person like this. He does appreciate that you're still reading, though.
Drew would like to sit down and have a beer with you. Or a cocktail. He's not here to judge your preferences. Drew is terrible at being serious, and has no real idea what a snippet biography is meant to convey anyway. Drew thinks you are awesome just the way you are. That part, he meant. You can reach Drew with questions or movie offers at [email protected] Drew is off to go high-five random people, because who doesn't love a good high-five? No one, that's who.
Read or purchase more of his work at his site: DrewHayesNovels.com
