Her eyes narrowed as she took another step forward. “However, it started with us, as far as I could tell. So I looked around and found you. The one person stuck in that stupid office building who survived when it went up in flames.” She snapped her fingers, and his eyes followed the flame that flickered around the tips before fading out. “A tech worker. A genius working as an IT guy for a big name company, making more money than he knew what to do with. Who better for a villain to hide behind… than a computer geek with no friends?” Her lips pouted in mockery. “It's exactly what you are, Soren Avalon. It's who the Binary Bandit is.” She spat out the name, and he flinched. “You're a villain, like me. You steal, and you hide, and you break the law… and you don't think anyone is ever going to catch you. But guess what, sweetheart? You have to cover your tracks better if you want to play with the big girls.”
Both hands snapped this time, and the flames lit her face, the perfect mask of shadow and drama. “And I don't take well to competition.” The fire lanced from her palms to the floor, and the carpet went up like a Chinese firework. With a laugh, Inferno sprinted into the hallway, and there was a crash of glass to indicate she'd jumped out the window—and Soren heard sirens in the distance. Fuck, I'm bound and determined to die in a fire—
“Soren?”
The voice was music. Jake! How he'd beaten the sirens there, Soren didn't know and frankly didn't care. He grabbed the nearest thing to him—a bedside lamp—and tossed it at the wall, making a satisfying clatter. Footsteps followed. “Soren, I'm coming; hang in there.”
I'm trying, Jake… He coughed, keeping his eyes closed and a blanket over his face, desperately working to keep as much smoke out of his ruined lungs as possible.
Like a hero in an action movie, a moment later Jake Harker bust through the doorway, jumping through flames with nothing but his sleeve over his mouth, looking absolutely panicked. “There you are. Fuck. Where's Inferno?” Soren pointed out the doorway. “Fuck. Okay, come on. Before your house collapses.”
Jake pushed one arm under Soren's knees and the other wrapped around his back, and he hoisted the hacker into the air, bolting for the door. Soren buried his face in Jake's shoulder, still trying to avoid the smoke…
And unwilling to watch when his house collapsed in on itself.
All my work… all my computers. Everything I own is gone. If Inferno managed to figure out that he was the Bandit, then what was stopping her from tapping into his accounts and stealing back her money, plus interest? It wasn't going to be easy, and he was certain she couldn't find all of them, but Inferno still had a decent chunk of change at her disposal and a hell of a lot more contacts. His security was good, but it wasn't infallible—not without him there to watch it.
What am I going to do?
Jake was still walking, silent. When he finally stopped and Soren looked up, he recognized the dark blue unmarked car Jake usually drove around off-duty.
“Can you stand?” There was something in Jake's tone that Soren didn't like. How much did he hear…? He knew it was Inferno… Soren just nodded, coughed, and then nodded again. Carefully, Jake set him down and waited until Soren had his balance before speaking again. “Are you okay?”
Soren shrugged, but nodded. I will be… I think.
Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out something. Soren's eyes widened. My tablet! He must have grabbed it from my desk before coming to find me! Soren reached for it, but Jake's hand twitched away… and Soren's heart stopped.
“I heard about half of what she said from downstairs. I heard over the scanner your house was on fire, and I came running on my own. I wasn't sure it was Inferno until I heard her. I was about to come up the stairs and catch the bitch myself when I heard what she was saying.” Oh. That's the tone. “She…” Jake took a breath. “Was she right? Are you the Bandit?”
Soren met Jake's eyes and held out his hand for the tablet once more. This time, Jake set it in his grasp. It had almost met an unfortunate end in the fire, but it still worked enough to scribble words on.
Jake cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Soren… shit.” He took a breath… took another one… and then looked back at Soren. “So.”
Soren's eyebrows raised, but he didn't write anything.
“You told me to ask. So… are you a hero or a villain?”
Slowly, carefully, Soren allowed for a smile.
Now, it was Jake's turn to laugh. “I'll be happier if you say you're a hero, but I…” The smile flickered and turned into something softer. “I'm not going to turn you in if you're a villain.”
“You were more important.”
“Fuck that. I'll play favorites with my supervillains all I want,” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around Soren's shoulder and tugging him in tight.
Soren closed his eyes and leaned into the hug, waiting until Jake released him before even trying to respond.
Jake swallowed, reading the words with a hand still on Soren's hair. “How bad, Soren?”
Jake sighed but slowly nodded. “Most heroes have a cop confidante; why not the bad guys, too? I'm your man on the inside.”
The lead-in was too perfect to pass up.
Jake grinned, and that was the smile Soren's knotted-up heart had been waiting for. “Then get in the cop car, Mr. Supervillain, and I'll show you just how I'll exact justice on your ass.”
About the Author
K Orion Fray lives in the middle of New York's wine country, which suits the authorial type just fine, and no matter what house they're found in, Rion lives with two or three cats, their owners, and a slew of apocalypse plans. When not writing, Rion can usually be found narrating audiobooks, voice acting on YouTube, watching movies, photographing local bands, or—of course—drinking wine. Rion is also currently enrolled in the Creative Writing MFA program through Carlow University in Pittsburgh, PA. More of Rion's work can be found at www.korionfray.com.
Even if the Stars Fell From the Sky
Jacklyn Baker
Some people believe in fate.
Miguel Cruz is not one for such things. A mutant possessing the power to move the earth in rumbling, percussive quakes, Miguel quickly found himself joining a team of other highly talented individuals and working toward world-saving on a daily basis. Taking up the codename Atlas and fighting alongside the other members of the organization, Nexus, Miguel became a firm believer that fighting is exactly what you have to do in this world. Not only to save the planet, but to accomplish anything. Destiny isn’t going to hand you anything. Things don’t happen for a reason. The future is what you make of it. These are things he has lived by for a long time. However, if there were one thing in his life that would make him doubt any of this, it would be Orion.
Orion had crash landed into Atlas's life a few years after he joined Nexus. Fleeing from another dimension called Sturmworld, the fierce redhead stumbled across the team and immediately attacked them. However, finding amity among the Nexus members, Orion quickly took the place offered him on the team, glad to have an excuse to fight. Fighting, after all, is what he was made to do.
Orion wasn’t born by any traditional means. Rather he was genetically synthesized in a lab to exist as a soldier in a worldwide war that held no end in sight. The man was molded into a fighting machine, his only purpose: battle. He was enhanced physically and ment
ally—faster and stronger and a brilliant strategist. He could process information almost like a computer, analyzing opponents studying their moves in an instant, and knowing from one blink to the next what the best and most ruthlessly efficient way to take down an enemy was. This was furthered by the fact that he had been developed to automatically charm any new people he formally greeted. It served to disarm them with a winning smile and a friendly demeanor, ultimately making it easier to kill them later, if required. The cheerfulness was merely a ploy, and Orion held no understanding of it or any other feelings as he was raised without exposure to the basic range of human emotions and never learned them for himself. This perhaps was the most particular difference between his teammates and the Sturmworlder. They worked well together as a team in spite of the Earthlings’ discomfort around him in their downtime, Orion proving a valuable addition to Nexus. Regardless of his emotional incapability the fact remained that Orion relished battle; it was bred in his bones.
Orion had stayed stoic for much of his first month with Nexus, preferring not to interact with anyone and to only be around when there was a fight to be had. But one day he had walked past Atlas as he relaxed on the couch watching television. They apparently didn’t have television on Orion’s home world, and the man took an immediate interest in it. What is this? What does it do? What is it for? Atlas had never seen him so interested in something that wasn’t cutting people apart with swords.
“It’s for fun,” Atlas explained. It was the most the alien had ever spoken to him, and he was taken aback by it to say the least. Imagine his surprise when Orion actually sat next to him on the couch.
“And that controls it?” he had asked, indicating the remote.
“Yeah.”
“May I see it?”
“Sure,” Atlas said and passed it over. He’d regretted it instantly, when Orion began flipping through the channels at what he was pretty sure was light speed. Atlas rolled his eyes and let him, reasoning it was his first time with a television.
As it turned out, that decision came to be the best decision of Atlas’s life. Orion began talking to him—often. He would seek Atlas and drag him back to the TV time and again, requesting Atlas’s expertise on Earth culture and his patient explanations for all the things Orion didn’t understand about it. Atlas began to like the strange alien’s company after a time, not minding his role as “teacher,” and they started spending more and more time together. At some point Orion became “Ri,” and after that it was only natural they became best friends. For over a year they were inseparable in their daily lives and unstoppable on the battlefield. They fought alongside the other members of Nexus, taking on interstellar threats and defeating them all, saving the Earth time after time. It seemed like it would last forever.
Then, Atlas left.
The family he left behind in Mexico needed him. Orion had pleaded with him to stay, that he needed him, too. But Atlas couldn’t turn his back on his family, even though they were the reason he had left Mexico in the first place.
When it was over, Miguel Cruz returned to the United States, to Nexus, and to Orion, making it clear he never wanted to talk about Mexico, his family, or his past again. He was Atlas now, mutant and member of Nexus, and that was all. If anyone called him by his given name, he made sure they knew to never make that mistake again. Anyone except Atlas’s most trusted friend, that is. Orion and Orion alone was allowed to call him Miguel.
Atlas and Orion were by each other’s sides again, and for a while everything seemed like it would be okay. Unfortunately, fate is never so kind.
The war on Sturmworld had at long last reached a peak. It was an easy decision for Nexus to accompany Orion home and help end the war. They emerged victorious and things in Sturmworld were finally set right again.
Orion stayed behind.
For all his time on Earth it had never been his home. With the war ended, he could protect his people again. Atlas couldn’t find a reason to make him stay, the words that could have kept him there buried deep by denial, and so they said good-bye again for the second, and what seemed like the last, time.
Atlas moved on, but he never forgot. Nexus was disbanded when the threats to Earth turned more local and less galactic. There were already many well-established teams of heroes that Atlas could have joined, but he couldn’t picture himself fighting battles without Orion beside him, so he didn’t. He joined up with a “detective agency” called Super-X Investigations that specialized in affairs involving the super-powered. There were still fights, but the fate of the world wasn’t placed on his shoulders anymore and he found it better that way. Ironic, he knew. But in truth he couldn’t see the point in saving a world without Orion in it.
It was like a dream when Orion tumbled into his life again one day. In the middle of a case no less, Ri dropped through one of his portals, saved Atlas and his fellow teammate’s life, and promptly turned to Atlas and kissed him.
“You were all I could think about,” he’d said.
Atlas had had no idea what was happening, but he’d jumped head first into it. They were together again. Atlas’s hair was shaggier, Orion had cut all his off, and they were boyfriends now, but they were still them. Honestly, once Orion was back it was like he had never been gone at all. Orion joined up with Super-X and they found themselves in a simple routine of working cases, managing not to die, and living everyday, mundane life. Together.
So they find themselves two months later, living with the rest of the team in Super-X headquarters and taking each day one at time. It works for them.
They are not, however, without their problems.
Atlas, understandably, doesn’t like to think about the past too much. It only dredges up memories no one wants to remember and bitter feelings that can never be fully resolved. No, he prefers to spend his time thinking about the future instead. The future is something still yet to be decided, or so he likes to believe. While the past is unalterable (for most people), the future can still be changed—can still be made to fit your dreams.
At least Atlas hopes so.
Watching Orion, however, he has his doubts in his ability to do such a thing.
Atlas sighs heavily, one arm balanced on the grocery cart’s handle, the other raised to brace his chin in his hand. The extra-dimensional man is chatting up a young woman. Again. It’s a habit the redhead seems incapable of breaking. Atlas tries not to blame him for it; really, he does. He knows it’s hardwired into Orion due to his Sturmworld origins. It’s automatic for him to charm every new person he meets. Atlas knows that.
But still.
He could at least not kiss them on the lips every damn time.
When Orion finally moseys back over to Atlas, the dark-haired man rolls his eyes.
“Is something wrong, Miguel?” Orion asks, completely innocently.
“No, Ri," Miguel says, holding back a sigh. "Let’s finish the shopping.”
It wouldn’t matter even if he told him. Yet another side effect of being Homeworld: Sturmworld, Ri’s lack of exposure to basic human emotions before coming to Earth is quite the impediment at times. He’s still just not with the program on most things. Things like “you’re hurting my feelings,” “stop kissing other people, you asshole,” etc.
It’s another thing that Miguel knows. He understands. It still rains on his parade pretty hard, though.
Atlas straightens his back and looks at the list in his hand. “We need to make sure we get the right brand of cheese this time, or Camille’s going to pitch a fit again.”
“Ah, yes. We wouldn’t want to have to repair another wall because of her,” Orion says, smiling and leading the way.
Atlas follows him down the grocery aisle, a displeased turn to his mouth as he watches the other man’s retreating back.
***
Orion is aware he doesn’t understand a lot of things about Earth. He knows he sticks out like a sore thumb in both behavior and appearance, but trivial things like that have never bothered him, so
he pays it no mind. If anyone dares to comment on either—particularly the soldier’s tattoo over his eye—he has no qualms showing them exactly why Sturmworlders will never quite fit into Earth culture, with vigor. And swords.
None of that truly matters to Orion. What does matter is Miguel.
Ri is always the first to rise of the two in the morning, needing less sleep because of his alien physiology. Some days, he’ll lie in bed an extra hour, just breathing in the other man. On those mornings he takes a moment to appreciate what he has. Atlas had become Orion’s best friend, his unofficial teacher of all things Earth, and now he’s become the most central point in the warrior’s life. Atlas is Orion’s rock in this strange world, his anchor, his guide. He would be completely lost without him.
He says as much to Atlas one day when they’re relaxing on the couch watching a movie from Atlas's list of culturally educational films he says Ri needs to watch.
"I'm glad I have you. I'd be so lost here without you," the tattooed man informs him after Miguel has explained yet another turn-of-phrase that had gone over Orion's head.
The words have the exact opposite effect from what Ri anticipated. Atlas grows upset, stands from the couch, and storms out of the room like an dark, angry cloud.
Orion has no idea what he’s done wrong. He follows Atlas, of course. He’ll always follow Atlas. If Miguel does not tell him what he has done wrong, no one will, and then Orion will be up the creek without a boat… or however that silly Earth saying goes.
“Miguel, talk to me. I don’t know what I’ve done.”
“Of course, you don’t, Ri,” Atlas says, rounding on him, eyes flashing in fury. “You don’t ever know. And you always come to me, so I can explain it to you. Because that’s what I’m for, isn’t it?”
Ah. This again. They have had this fight before.
“I thought we talked about this,” Orion says calmly. “I do need you to be my guide. I thought you were okay with it.”
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