Forging Hephaestus

by Drew Hayes

  “Councilor,” the shadow said, speaking in a whisper that Ivan instantly knew would be inaudible to anyone besides him. “I come to tell you that a meeting has been called for tomorrow night. It is high priority, and all seven must be in attendance, as per the code’s agreements.”

  With still-watchful eyes, Ivan gave a small nod, and the shadow vanished. Arcanicus must have sent it; he was one of only three people in the guild who officially knew Ivan’s identity. After a couple of coup attempts, Ivan had made certain that his civilian name stayed off all records, and had Wade scramble any digital footage of him when he entered the guild hall. He wore a mask at meetings and always used his official code name when dealing with most of the others, all to make it more difficult to find out who he was. None of this would stop the truly determined, of course, but it made it more difficult. Sometimes that was enough of a deterrent in itself, especially since he represented the segment of the guild least likely to care about an attempt to grab power.

  Of the seven guild sections, Ivan Gerhardt was the chosen representative of those who were non-active members. The retired villains, as most called them, or the whipped dogs, as some of his more... asshole-ish colleagues liked to say.

  Ivan went to his desk and grabbed some papers for the morning meeting. Mysterious messages and foreboding warning aside, he still had work to get done. Besides, if they were calling it a high priority, but not an emergency, then things probably weren’t that bad.

  He hoped.

  Chapter 7

  “Please tell me I’m not just going to be doing that all the time,” Tori said as they walked through the front door of Ivan’s house. “Because if so, you may as well go ahead and let the guild know that they can kill me. I’ll take a quick death over god knows how many years of sitting in that place.”

  “When you become a full member, we can find a cover-job that suits your style better,” Ivan said, following her in and locking the door. As always, he ran his hand down the seam between the door and the frame, muttering words that Tori could barely make out and had zero comprehension of. “Maybe something in the technological sector? I’m sure they can find space for you at Indigo Technologies.”

  “Um... Ivan,” Tori said, her voice suddenly filled with uncertainty rather than annoyance. “I think you should see this.”

  Turning around slowly—it did no good to show fear to a potential adversary—Ivan’s eyes followed Tori’s gaze to the coffee table, where a large box with a bow rested in the center. It was done in a silver and black style that Ivan instantly recognized as Doctor Mechaniacal’s. Still, he approached the package slowly, motioning for Tori to stay back. Looking like something his friend had left him and being something his friend had left him were two entirely different things. Ivan delicately lifted the top off the box, and then let out a sigh of relief.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “They just dropped off your outfit for tomorrow night.”

  “Am I going to the ball?” Tori moved forward slowly, trying to get a better look at what lay inside the mysterious box.

  “No, but I think this will suit you far more than some empty-headed gala ever would.” Ivan reached in and pulled out a swatch of long, dark fabric trimmed with a fiery red color along the seams and edges. “This is your apprentice’s outfit, and it’s what you’ll wear at all times when we’re on guild business.” He handed the box to Tori, who began pulling out the various components.

  “Shirt, boots, pants, cloak, mask…” Tori laid each piece on the ground as she extracted it, assembling the whole outfit on Ivan’s carpeted floor. “Sort of generic-looking.”

  “It’s an apprentice’s outfit,” Ivan reiterated. “It’s meant to be generic. Full guild members get to design their own uniforms, but until you graduate to that level, you’ll be left to blend in with every other apprentice out there. We do this partly to remind you of your place, but it also helps from a training perspective. By keeping the costumes neutral, it makes it hard to tie any crimes you might commit in your apprenticeship to the identity you ultimately assume. Sort of a clean slate, in case you make any goofs during your training.”

  “Wait, other apprentices?” Tori looked up at her teacher, who was examining the outfit she’d extracted. “I thought most of the newbies went through standard training. I only got given to you for being such a fuckup.”

  “Every guild member undergoing training is considered an apprentice,” Ivan told her. “It’s just that very few of them get teachers. See the red trim on your shirt and cloak?” He pointed to the areas, despite the fact that they were nearly impossible to miss in the otherwise endless sea of black fabric. “That marks you as a taken apprentice. The color matches what’s on my outfit, so that anyone you deal with in the guild knows who is ultimately responsible for you.”

  “Just by the color?”

  Ivan shrugged. “We used to do symbols, but as fewer people took apprentices, it got to the point where just color was enough to mark who was connected to whom.”

  Tori finished laying out her costume and eyed it critically. She’d have to try it on to be sure, but from a glance, it seemed to be perfectly crafted to her measurements. Since Doctor Mechaniacal had already gotten clothes for her, it was hardly surprising that the guild would have her new outfit tailored, but it was beginning to get her feeling a bit creeped out. It was something she supposed she’d have to get used to, though. Ivan had been worried by the mysterious box in his home, but he hadn’t really seemed at all surprised by its appearance. Personal limits might be something she had to learn to reevaluate if she wanted to survive in this world.

  “Where am I supposed to wear this to, anyway?”

  “A meeting of the guild’s council.” Ivan left the living room and entered the kitchen, set on getting dinner started. It had been a long, late day at the office, and he felt that a solid meal would do them both good. “They’ve called an impromptu meeting, and as one of the seven councilors, I am obligated to attend. As my apprentice, you are expected to come along as well.”

  “Oh joy, you’re dragging me to another meeting.” Tori’s mind went back to the day’s activities, which had consisted almost entirely of paperwork, taking notes, and doing all she could to not fall asleep while people droned on about things she neither knew nor cared about.

  Ivan turned to glare at her, an action which might have been more menacing if he wasn’t holding two onions in his hands. Perhaps realizing the way his menace was undercut by the produce, he set the onions on the cutting board and grabbed a knife. “This is not merely ‘another meeting’ as you so flippantly described it. We are talking about all seven of the guild’s councilors discussing high-level, important issues. Some guild members would give every item they own to attend such a gathering.”

  “Cool guild members?” Tori asked. “Like, guild members with a lot going on in their lives? Or guild members who are super boring and probably don’t have much to do? I’ve got to be honest with you: I don’t buy that a meeting is the happening place to be, no matter who’s there.”

  Ivan glowered at her as he sliced the onions, clearly unworried by the fact that a slip of the knife would press it against his unguarded flesh. “It doesn’t matter if it is ‘cool’ or not. The council is gathering, and we both have to go. Plus, it will be a good opportunity for you to meet some of the other guild members. Doctor Mechaniacal told me that you never graduated beyond the isolation phase.”

  “You just love throwing that back in my face, don’t you?” Tori leaned against the wall and watched as Ivan expertly diced his onions. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his suit from work, yet he seemed neither worried about stains nor inconvenienced by wearing it. Sometimes Ivan reminded Tori of the uncanny valley: he was so close to being normal, but then he would give away his strangeness in subtle, unexpected ways. “Fine, so I didn’t get to meet anyone besides Doctor Mechaniacal and the occasional trainer. Should I really be trying to make friends before we’re even sure I’ll survive m
y training?”

  “I don’t see why not. Every other apprentice lives with the same knowledge that they might die, and it doesn’t stop most of them from making friends.”

  Tori choked a bit, despite her mouth being empty. “Wait, every apprentice has the ‘fuck up and die’ sword dangling over their head?”

  “Certainly. We didn’t make up the rules just for you,” Ivan replied. He’d finished the onions and moved on to a tomato. “Any potential guild member who fails to meet expectations is terminated. The only difference between you and the others is that you already came close to meeting your end.”

  “Damn. That is some pretty extreme shit right there.”

  Ivan paused to look at his apprentice. He didn’t glare at her, nor was he as disinterested as she was accustomed to. For what might have been the first time, Tori thought she sensed a bit of empathy in his eyes.

  “We are not the good guys. No matter how structured or careful our code may be, never forget that we are an organization of criminals and potential killers. If the guild fails to neutralize threats early on, entire cities can be wiped out, and the tentative peace we’ve managed to cultivate becomes strained. Make no mistake: we cannot afford things like leniency or mercy. Not when dealing with the sort of people who join us.”

  Tori nodded, and Ivan went back to preparing dinner. Sometimes she let herself forget that not everyone would be like Doctor Mechaniacal and Ivan—decent men who simply didn’t seem to care much for playing by the rules. Come the next evening, she would probably meet true monsters, the sort who were only constrained by stronger beings watching over them. Beings like Ivan.

  Moving quietly out of the kitchen, Tori headed back into the living room and began picking up her outfit from the floor. If she had to step among the serpents, she’d best make sure her own snakeskin fit her properly.

  * * *

  After dinner was eaten and Tori had confirmed that her costume fit her as well as everything else she’d been provided with so far, Ivan took her into the living room for their evening training. Tori didn’t ask questions; she just headed toward the bookshelf and prepared to pull out Ivan’s copy of the code.

  “Not tonight,” he said, stopping her before her hand closed around the book. “You did well over the weekend. I think we can move to doing a weekly code review rather than spending all of our time on it. Let’s begin your practical training instead.”

  Tori kept a solemn face as she nodded and walked back over to the couch, but the ripple of heat around her betrayed her excitement and nerves at this next step in her education. The temperature rise didn’t escape Ivan’s notice; in fact, it was the very subject he wanted to discuss.

  “Next to the code, control is the most important thing for any meta-human to learn.” Ivan motioned for her to sit, which Tori did. “Precision, power, effectiveness, subtlety: all of this comes from control. When you can use your abilities as you wish, and only use them intentionally, then the options spread out before you in any given situation are multiplied exponentially.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Tori said, leaning back against the couch. “That’s why I practiced so much when I first got my fire powers. I can light a cigarette from across a room without scorching the hand holding it.”

  “That may well be, but you can’t seem to stop throwing off heat whenever you get worried, or excited, or experience any other sudden flux of emotion,” Ivan countered. “Besides that, I’ve watched all your combat tapes from your time at the guild, and I was greatly underwhelmed by the amount of exploration you’ve done in developing your power’s technique. All you did was throw fireballs or charge headlong into battle while in fire-form.”

  “I don’t generally use my powers in the first place. I’m like Doctor Mechaniacal—all about the tech. I plan on building a meta-suit so advanced that it won’t even matter if the wearer can turn into flames or is somehow made of glass.”

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that aspiration,” Ivan said. “However, until such time as you manage to complete that sort of suit, your abilities are all that distinguish you from a mundane human. You need to make the most of them, and you need to have them firmly in hand. Calling forth every bit of your power is how you survive as a villain; being able to turn it off completely is how you survive as a civilian. My goal is to help you reach that level of control.”

  It wasn’t quite the “leaping skyscrapers” training Tori had been hoping for, but she was too pragmatic to deny the benefit of mastering her abilities. Truth be told, she’d tried on several occasions to find a cure for the cursed things—turning spontaneously into flames was more of a liability than asset when dealing with complex and delicate electronics. She’d eventually gotten them in hand, but Ivan was right in that she’d never really bothered exploring them. Her fire powers were just a thing she dealt with, not an asset she depended on.

  “I guess I can get on board with that,” Tori agreed. “Especially if I’m going to have to tag along with you to that office every day. Can’t very well go warming up the entire building if one of the old guys slaps my ass.”

  “No, if that happens you come directly to me, and then we go to HR,” Ivan told her. “Our company has a zero-tolerance policy on that sort of sexual harassment.”

  “I was kidding, sheesh. My point is that, yeah, if I’m throwing off heat unintentionally, then that’s something I’d like to stop doing. The question is how? I already keep myself under pretty tight reins, but I don’t know how to stop something that involuntary. It’s like trying to learn to stop blushing when you get embarrassed.”

  “That is something else that you can, and will, learn how to do.” Ivan left the living room and entered the kitchen, returning moments later with what looked like a small lighter. “For controlling your power, however, we’re going to start by getting you accustomed to controlling your involuntary reactions. Today, you told me that your body automatically responds to damage by turning into fire, correct?”

  “Always has in the past,” Tori confirmed.

  “Excellent. Does the method matter? Cutting, smashing, slicing, etcetera?”

  “Well, burning doesn’t work on me, for obvious reasons.” Tori eyes were on Ivan’s lighter, which he was fidgeting with absentmindedly as he stared at her. “Other than that, pretty much anytime I got seriously hurt, I went into fire-form.”

  “That is precisely what I wanted to hear.” Ivan tossed her the lighter, which Tori snatched out of the air. “Would you mind lighting that for me?”

  She turned the device around in her hands a few times, trying to figure out just what Ivan was up to. The lighter was made of silver metal and had a large plunger rather than the usual small wheel to flick. It was etched with a tasteful design, and seemed to be well-crafted from what little Tori knew about such devices. Having never been a smoker, her experience was limited to lighting candles and Bunsen burners. Tori rested her thumb against the plunger, and then, after one last glance at Ivan, pressed down on it.

  “Son of a bitch!” The lighter fell to the ground as Tori’s hand turned to insubstantial flames. The shift went all the way up to her elbow, where it thankfully stopped a few feet short of the t-shirt she’d changed into after work. “That damn thing shocked me!”

  “Neat, right?” Ivan asked. “I had Doc whip it up based on a toy my son brought home a few years ago. It should hurt, but not do any lasting damage. Plus, it’s fireproof and tough as hell, so you won’t accidently break it. That lighter is now your training tool. I want it with you at all times, no matter where we are.”

  “The hell for?” Tori asked. She took a deep breath and willed her hand and forearm to resume their usual form. After a few seconds of concentration they complied, and the flickering light of her fiery appendage died out.

  “You need to learn to control your involuntary responses. Since we can’t shift your emotions about easily, the best path is through pain. You’re to use that lighter until you can get shocked without shifting into fire-for
m.”

  “Oh, sure, that sounds just super easy.” Tori bent down and picked the lighter back up, turning it over in her hands once again. Despite being unceremoniously dropped, it didn’t bear as much as a single scratch. Ivan was right, the thing was sturdy.

  “No, it will likely be one of the most difficult tasks I ask you to undertake,” Ivan said. “But that’s why I’m here to help. For example, just from observing what happened, I would say your first step is to focus on not overreacting.”

  Tori glared at her teacher with a pinched expression. “I am not sorry for cursing when you tricked me with a damn shock-lighter.”

  Ivan sighed—a long, weary rasp of air that puttered out from his lips—and shook his head. “Your transformation: that’s where you overreacted. The only part of you being attacked was your thumb, but you shifted all the way up to your elbow. Try and focus on subduing that aspect first. Learn what it feels like when your body acts without permission, and then try to interrupt that action before it can occur. Starting with tempering the amount is easier than trying to stop it entirely.”

  “Why? I mean, I get the goal overall, but isn’t going incorporeal when someone tries to hurt me a good thing? The reaction has saved my life more than once. I don’t know that I want to try and get rid of it.”

  “That is... actually a very practical concern,” Ivan admitted. He walked over and took the lighter from her, holding it in his own hands. “And honestly, you probably don’t want to get rid of the reflex, not entirely. But there is a keen difference between something being eradicated and something being controlled.” Ivan flipped the lighter open and pressed his finger against the plunger, locking eyes with Tori as he did so.