Forging Hephaestus

by Drew Hayes

  Casting spells was more than just spitting out words and making gestures. It was about tapping into the primal current of magic that lived in their world. His body and mind acted as a conduit for that power, drawing it out and shaping it to his will. If he lost his focus or allowed his emotions to run wild, then the spells would show it. That was why his simple blast of attack-magic kept wiping out half the targets in the shooting range he’d booked. His burning desire to fight with Ivan was amplifying the more destructive properties of his magic. It was a facet of wielding the arcane that Balaam was well acquainted with and considered highly useful in certain situations, but this was not one of them.

  The time for dealing with Ivan would come soon enough; he had to keep control until then. Knowing that the end was drawing nigh made it hard to stay composed, though. With the finish line in sight, Balaam wanted to just sprint ahead to cross it. But that would be folly. He’d long ago learned that he couldn’t act alone. All he could do was ready himself. Prepare. Because in a few weeks, when the man on the other end of the mirror put his plan into action, Balaam intended to enjoy every minute of it.

  That was then, however, and this was now. Taking a deep breath, Balaam chose a new target and whispered a few words. This time, only the wooden dummy he’d selected exploded in flames, burning away to nothingness in a span of seconds. Balaam watched, the wicked smile on his face framed by the dancing shadows of firelight. He could hold it together for a little longer, play the part for a few more weeks.

  Because when the day finally came and he was freed from his facade, Balaam would never again have to pretend to be some kenneled dog. He would be free, and the world would tremble at the sound of his name.

  * * *

  “Had a feeling you wouldn’t be sleeping.”

  Ren glanced up from the weight bench to find Donald standing in the doorway to the gym. Despite the late hour, there were still a few others dotted throughout the giant area, working in their exercise when time permitted. Still, it was nothing compared to the plethora of sculpted bodies—some by powers and some by effort—that filled the room during normal hours. Only the most devoted, poorly scheduled, or sleep-deprived capes would come work out so deep in the night.

  “I don’t sleep much, anyway,” Ren replied, finishing his set of deadlifts and resting the bar carefully down on the rack. “Side effect of whatever made me into... me. Only need a couple of hours a night.”

  “That so? Damn, now there’s an ability I could get some use out of. I have to keep my late hours the old-fashioned way: energy drinks and poor health.” Donald walked over, idly picking up one of the smallest free-weights and moving it from hand to hand. “I’ve always been a night owl, though. Of course, back then, it was so I could squeeze in as much gaming as possible, for fun. Now I’m gaming to get myself up to snuff. At least it gives me something to do, since there’s no way I was going to sleep tonight anyway.”

  Ren contemplated lying back down for another set but thought better of it. Even as adaptive as his muscles were, they could still only grow so quickly. The truth of the matter was that he’d hit his limit for daily progress hours ago; since then, he’d been working out to avoid dwelling on the same thing that was no doubt keeping Donald awake.

  “Everyone goes on standby status sooner or later,” Ren said, grabbing a towel and wiping down the bench. He didn’t actually sweat, at least not measurably, but some habits were more about consideration for others than effectiveness. “That’s how we have superheroes ready to respond when people need us. It’s part of the job. And Apollo said he’d keep us at the bottom of the list, only sending us out if everyone else is already busy.”

  “I know. It was inevitable. I guess I just thought there would be more time, more training before we were suddenly chucked out into the world with people counting on us. I mean... if we screw up, someone could die.” Donald set the weight down; his motion hadn’t been doing much in the way of working him out in the first place.

  “So far, you’ve tangled with a gang of thieves and a giant monster in a club,” Ren pointed out. “If that doesn’t get you ready, I’m not sure what will.”

  “Yeah, but I had help both times,” Donald reminded him.

  “And you’ll have it this time, too. We’re signed up as a pair; whatever call comes in gets us both as responders. As long as we’ve got each other’s backs, we’ll find a way to muddle through. Training is nice, but there’s no better way to learn than by doing.” Ren paused, momentarily thinking over Donald’s last comment. “Hang on, I helped with the club monster, but I thought you were solo for the thing at your office?”

  “Oh, yeah... I mean, I was.” The tips of Donald’s pale ears began to practically glow red, and he quickly looked away from Ren’s gaze. “I was the only meta, but there were still other people who helped. You know, made distractions, that sort of thing.”

  “Uh huh.” His toweling done, Ren threw the dry piece of cloth over his shoulder and took a long look at Donald. “Look, I know you well enough to know that you’re not the type to try and hog glory, so if you’re skipping over someone else’s contributions to that fight, then I trust there’s a good reason for it. That said, not everyone knows you as well as I do, so you might want to work on your poker face in case they catch you off guard again.”

  Donald jerked his head up, quickly scanning the gym to see if anyone was paying attention to them. As was to be expected of those working out after midnight, everyone was dedicated to their own efforts, oblivious or apathetic to the discussions of others. “Ren, can I trust you with a secret?”

  “Seeing as you trust me with your life in the field, I’d say a secret is actually a step down,” he replied.

  “I guess that’s a good point.” Donald looked around once more then leaned in to whisper. “I wasn’t really the only meta there. I had help, a lot of it, from a woman with a weird verbal power. I hate pretending I did it all alone, but she doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s a meta, so I told them I did everything.”

  That more or less aligned with what Ren would have guessed occurred. Donald was the honest sort, but he also wasn’t the type to publicly out someone trying to live a normal life while meta. “Was it that girl we met last week? The one from your office out with her support group?”

  “Tori?” Donald let out a small laugh and shook his head. “No; I think if she was a meta, she’d be tougher than all of us. Even without a power, she stepped up and kicked ass during the hostage situation. I mean, she had help since the other woman was using her powers on her, but still. It was really impressive; I wish I could have told people about it. Anyway, Tori is human. The one with the powers doesn’t even work in our office, she was just there by coincidence.”

  “Lucky coincidence,” Ren said. “Well, don’t worry; your secret, and hers, is safe with me. Being a meta isn’t always easy, even if you’re lucky enough to be able to hide it. Honestly, I think if I’d gotten a different power, one like yours, I would have gone right back to my old life. I’d have spent the rest of my days on the sidelines, not trying to be a superhero.”

  “You’re wrong.” Donald picked his weight back up and walked over to the rack, setting it down in its designated spot. “Maybe you wouldn’t have gone all in like you have, but you’d have ended up here sooner or later, Ren. As soon as you got power, this was inevitable.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because you saw a giant monster appear out of nowhere, and before you knew I had a way to shoot it, you raced off to fight the thing. No worry, no hesitation, no nothing.” Donald sat down on the bench beside his friend. “Anyone with instincts like that isn’t going to stay on the sidelines. As soon as you saw someone in need, that would have been it. Like it or not, you were born to be a superhero.”

  “Guess we’ll see over the next few weeks,” Ren said, purposely skimming past the rest of what Donald had said. Much as he appreciated it, Ren had no idea how to respond to something so heartfelt. So instead,
he fell back on a tactic as tried and true as the punch: Ren changed the subject. “Speaking of, did you figure out what you’re going to do about work? Can you go to the office and be on standby?”

  “I think the AHC is going to submit some sort of request for time off on my behalf, sort of like if I got jury duty,” Donald said. “I’ve got no doubt Vendallia will approve it; they’ve more or less been trying to get me out the door since they found out I signed on with the capes.”

  “That’s a bummer,” Ren said. “I know you got a thrill out of seeing that coworker of yours, Tori.”

  “She’s just a friend,” Donald replied, words coming out fast and reflexively.

  “Yeah, I saw that for myself. But I wasn’t talking about what she is, I was talking about how you feel. You’ve obviously got a thing for her.” Ren’s statement was not an accusation but rather a simple observation.

  “I might, but I don’t think she feels the same way,” Donald admitted.

  “Give it time. These things grow as you learn more about each other. Plus, you’re a superhero now. Who isn’t impressed by that?”

  “Surprisingly, her,” Donald said. “She and Mr. Gerhardt are the only people in the office who haven’t acted like being a meta or signing up with the AHC is any big deal. If not for them, I doubt I would have made it through another week at that place. Guess it will be my last one for a while.”

  “Maybe you’ll see her again elsewhere,” Ren suggested.

  “No maybe about it.” Donald reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “On Monday, we exchanged numbers. As soon as my standby duty is done, I’m calling her up and asking her to get coffee.” His face, already pale, lost a few more shades. “Oh crap, I’m going to have to ask her out if I want to see her again, aren’t I?”

  Ren put a reassuring arm over his friend’s back and patted him on the shoulder. “On the plus side, now fighting criminals doesn’t seem so scary, does it?”

  Chapter 59

  When Saturday morning arrived, four bleary-eyed apprentices rode the elevator down through the guild’s subterranean defenses and walked through the biometric screening hallway before finally entering the guild’s most well-defended enclosure: Sanctum.

  Tori, who had lost track of how much coffee she’d ingested as the night dragged on, had hit the strange, almost-high state that occurred during the second wind of sleep deprivation. Nonetheless, it was more than just a flailing brain’s release of chemicals that had plastered a smile on her face as she watched the doors slowly part. It had taken all night, and there was still tons of work left to do, but they’d come up with a plan. Maybe it wasn’t a great plan, but it was something. That alone was enough to give her hope.

  None of the apprentices were terribly surprised to find Sanctum almost empty. Doctor Mechaniacal had emphasized that it wasn’t a place people were supposed to hang out, and besides, most criminals preferred to work under the cover of darkness, making them functionally nocturnal. In fact, there was only one person in Sanctum, sitting back in a chair with a well-thumbed book in her hand.

  At the sound of the door, Stasis jumped up from her chair, trying to look like she hadn’t been caught completely off guard. Once her eyes settled on the four rookies making their way in, she let out a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “What the hell are you four already doing here?”

  “Doctor Mechanical said this was when we could enter Sanctum,” Lance explained.

  “Yeah, as in, you couldn’t come in until now. That didn’t mean you had to... oh shit, did you think this was some sort of deadline?” Stasis didn’t bother waiting for an answer. She tipped back her head and let out a resounding cackle. “You have to be kidding me. Guys, this was just the first time you’d be allowed in, to make sure you didn’t try and come down before you had things in order. No one actually tries to register their first job after only a night of planning. I was put down here mostly as a formality, and because I don’t sleep.”

  Doctor Mechaniacal’s words, which had seemed so clear at the time, echoed through their heads. Yes, he’d said they couldn’t come in until Saturday morning, and yes, he’d emphasized the need to spend their evening planning. But Stasis was right: at no point had he ever told them they needed to be down here after only a night to get things going. In fact, the only time limit they’d been given was that they had a week to finish the trial. Aside from that, they’d been free to work how they wanted.

  “Oh, son of a bitch,” Warren muttered, tipping back his weary, aching head. Unlike Tori, he was not accustomed to pulling all-nighters, and the strain of it had left him with the beginnings of what would ultimately be a splitting migraine.

  “Maybe they’ll think it’s impressive,” Beverly ventured. “You know, that we were willing to work so hard and set a new submission record.”

  “No one cares about your submission. All we look at are results,” Stasis said. She folded the corner of a page in her book, closed it, and set it down on the chair where she’d been resting. “But what the hell, you’re already here, so let’s go ahead and knock this out. I’m supposed to show you how to work the board, though since Doc designed it, the interface is pretty fluid. Everyone come watch.”

  Stasis walked a few feet over to one of several stations set up throughout the room and touched a screen. It lit up instantly, displaying an output identical to what they could see on the giant digital display that took up so much of the room.

  “Doc explained to you all that everything in here is connected and sealed off, right? The only place you can book jobs is in Sanctum, and then only by using one of these special stations.”

  Everyone nodded. Stasis punched the corner of her screen, bringing up a new display. This one was actually curiously familiar to Tori, and when she realized why, it nearly took the breath out of her. The form Stasis had brought up, while it certainly had its differences, had unquestionably been patterned after the dozen or so she’d dealt with daily at Vendallia. The same person had clearly designed both—which, now that she thought about it, might be Doctor Mechaniacal himself.

  “The actual booking is pretty easy. You just go through each section of this piece by piece, and at the end, you’ve got a job ready for the council to review. You four will get that part expedited since you’re on a clock, but normally you have to make a special case or wait a few days. So, moving down the list, let’s start with the biggest thing first: what’s your target?”

  Lance stepped forward, as it was he who’d uncovered the target they’d all agreed was the most tempting. “The Dash City Museum. It has a Level Three security system and enough art to easily hit our target half-million.”

  Stasis tapped a blank spot on the form, bringing up a search function. She quickly entered “Dash City Museum” and a map appeared in front of her. Above it was a text box, visibly filled with information about the potential target. “Hmmm. Well, it’s not affiliated with the guild, which is a big one, and I don’t see any known associates of capes that work there, though the council will double check that part, but you’ve got a major problem right off the bat.” Stasis leaned back, allowing them all to get a clear view of the red, highlighted text at the top of the information box.

  “Right now, they have a collection of jewels recovered from the attempted Cernovian invasion a few years back. Those things are worth a literal fortune, so the whole place has been put on extra high-alert. I bet they have capes on hand around the clock just waiting for someone dumb enough to try and steal those things.”

  “We know,” Beverly said. “That’s why we picked this target.”

  Stasis’s eyes widened, but before she could ask, Beverly stretched out her hand and pointed to a section just below the red warning text. “The exhibit ends on Monday when the jewels get transported to their next stop on the tour. We want to do the job on Wednesday, after they and the extra security are long gone and the staff has let their guard down.”

  “Oh, that’s cunning. You’re hitting th
em right when they think the real risk has passed. I’m impressed.” Stasis tapped a green button on the bottom of the screen. The display shrank back to the form page, only now the “Location” section had been filled in.

  “Even on their slowest day, there’s enough art to hit our quota,” Lance said. “So we don’t need the gems. We can be perfectly happy with a paltry half-million.”

  “You say that now,” Stasis muttered, quickly filling the section of the form marked “Date” with a few keystrokes. “Well, Dash City is in North Carolina. That puts you plenty of states away from the AHC’s headquarters, so that’s a step in the right direction. Should I assume you want to book Tunnel Vision for transportation?”

  “Please,” Tori said. “We talked about heading there via train or car, but it would take a while to get from Colorado to North Carolina. Plus, it would leave a trail, and even if it wouldn’t be crazy suspicious, I don’t think any of us wants to wear a costume for several days straight.”

  “You’re not wrong there. Those things need to be washed regularly or they can get funky.” Stasis skimmed through the form to see which section they should go over next. “I’ll show you how to handle asking for other members when we’re done, but obviously, that isn’t coming into play since it’s just you four on this job. You’ve still got two hundred bucks left in your resource account; did you want to spend it on anything?”

  “I think we’ll hang on to that in case any incidentals come up,” Warren said.

  “Works for me. Then that means you’ve knocked out the where, the when, the assets you need from the guild, and what resources you’re using to pay for them.” Stasis double checked her form then turned to Tori, who was still clutching the bundle of handwritten pages. “Normally, we ask that you submit tactical plans digitally on the station, but for you all, we’ll make an exception. If you give me what you’ve got, I can have it in front of the council before lunch.”