Forging Hephaestus

by Drew Hayes

  Chloe pulled back her right arm, bunched her hand into a poorly-formed fist that would probably result in a broken finger if she put any force into the blow, and gave Beverly a light slug in the shoulder. Aside from the soft thud of flesh striking cloth, nothing happened. Beverly hadn’t even shifted, let alone flown into the air.

  “Interesting,” Beverly said, looking down at the bony fist still resting against her shoulder. “Okay, so I think I have a theory, but it’s a rough one. I mean, really rough. So if I’m way off base, no one hold it against me.”

  “At this point, I’ll take any bit of information I can get,” Chloe said, pulling back her fist and giving it a light shake.

  “My guess—and I do want to stress that this is a guess—is that you somehow tap into something like people’s belief, only with words instead of the divine. Like... okay. We know there are divine metas out there, aside from the ones who just take old-god names like Apollo. There are some who seem like they’re actually drawing from something bigger than themselves—like that cape named Archbishop, for instance. But some people don’t believe they’re drawing from actual gods; instead, they’re tapping into the collective human belief in those gods. If that’s true, then why couldn’t you do the same with words?”

  “You lost me so far back that I might as well not have even gotten in the car,” Tori said.

  “This is the kind of shit you have to learn about when your power is magical and the source is unknown,” Beverly replied.

  “Hang on,” Chloe said, squinting a bit as she puzzled together the theory Beverly had lain out before her. “So the sayings only work if a lot of people believe they work? But no one actually believes that lying will set your pants on fire, and I’ve used that one before. Turned a pair of jeans into ashes.”

  Tori made a note to inquire further about that incident; it wouldn’t really do to have Chloe accidentally lighting people up all over town. That was the sort of thing that drew the attention of the capes, or worse, the guild.

  “I did say it was rough,” Beverly reminded her. “But I don’t think it matters as much that they think it will happen literally; it’s just that people keep saying them over and over, and on some level, they believe there’s a sort of truth to them. Like that lying a lot will eventually land you in trouble, which is also known as a hot seat. Every time someone out there says it, they put a little more faith in it, like water through a prayer wheel. I think once those words get strong enough, you can tap into them.”

  Tori was slowly starting to catch on, her mind subbing out words like “faith” for “unknown variables” to keep things clearer. “Then why have her try the punching one? That’s not a saying anyone says.”

  “It is, it’s just not a common one,” Beverly corrected. “People say things like that in fights when talking about people who can knock you off your feet in a single blow. One of my brothers boxes, and I’ve heard it used more than once. The thing is that it’s not something everyone knows or thinks of offhand. That’s what I wanted to test—if any saying worked, or if it needed a certain amount of saturation for Chloe to use it.”

  “That does explain a lot. I’ve tried a few sayings my grandpa used to like and only some of them worked.” Chloe flipped through her notebook, looking at the successes and failures one by one, checking to see if Beverly’s theory about the pattern played out. “But there are ones like ‘the devil in the details’ that fizzle too, and that’s a pretty popular one.”

  “And you can probably use it if you ever find a situation that fits,” Beverly said. “It looks like as much as the words need power, they also need you to shape them. If you can’t picture how a saying would work in real life, even subconsciously, then you can’t invoke it.”

  “Think of it like a gun.” Tori ignored the fearful look that darted across Chloe’s face and continued with her analogy. “The power is the bullet—not enough juice in the words? No bullet to fire. But your mind is the trigger. If it can’t give the idea shape then the bullet just sits idly in the chamber.”

  “Well, well, little miss science is finally catching on,” Beverly said.

  “Once you moved into parameters and execution, I was back on solid ground,” Tori shot back.

  “Interesting as this is, and please don’t think for a second that it isn’t, how does it help me control this damn power?” Chloe asked.

  “No idea. And honestly, it might not.” Beverly shrugged, her shoulders bobbing up and down in an unapologetic display of uncertainty. “All I know is what I was taught by my teacher, and he said that understanding is the first step to control. It worked for me, sort of, but we’ve got very different powers. At least you found a list of new things you can say without lighting pants on fire, though.”

  “There is that.” Chloe sighed and snapped her notebook shut, stuffing it back into the rear pocket of her dark slacks. “I really appreciate you both taking the time to help me, even if I will still have to pick my words carefully for a while. Just having some sort of idea of what’s happening to me makes it a little easier to cope with.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Beverly said. “We metas have to stick together, you know?”

  “Tell me about it. Especially those of us trying to live under the radar,” Chloe agreed. “You know Tori shot herself in the arm four times rather than tip off me and Donald that she was a meta?”

  Tori blushed in spite of herself, tan cheeks quickly turning red. While she’d given Beverly something of a synopsis of what happened during the robbery, Tori had opted out of providing a full play-by-play. Part of that was in order to keep from looking like a braggart, but the rest was fearing that someone would point out a much simpler solution that she’d overlooked.

  “And the thing is, I totally get it,” Chloe continued. “I just have this weird word ability and it’s hard enough to keep under wraps. Having fire manipulation... you’d have to go all out to keep your secret. There’s no way the AHC wouldn’t try to snap you up like they did Donald. Or worse, some gang that wanted to make you use your power for them.”

  Tori and Beverly certainly did not exchange knowing glances at that last option; both were old and mature enough to understand that such a gesture would betray the very secret they hoped to keep. They did, however, both go for the nervous-laugh reaction, which was certainly off-putting. Seconds after she started, Tori let her laughter trail off. She decided that words might work a bit better for their situation.

  “I doubt stuff like that really happens, at least around here. I mean, the AHC’s headquarters is only twenty minutes from our office. I can’t imagine how ballsy or careless any kind of gang would have to be to pull that stuff in Ridge City.” Ballsy, careless, or specifically founded and watched over by a mix of geniuses and veteran villains. Tori was just grateful that Chloe’s last phrase hadn’t been the pants-on-fire one.

  “You never know, it’s a dangerous world,” Chloe said. “But hey, I never thought to ask: since we all try and keep things so secret, how did you two even find each other?”

  This, at least, they’d prepared for. Beverly launched into the story they’d chosen without a moment’s hesitation. “I was changed on the same night as you, during that weird storm. I had pretty much no control of my powers, and Tori happened upon me when I was in my dragon-form. She helped calm me down, telling me she’d been there and it would be okay. Basically talked me through it until I managed to get back to human. After that, our secrets were pretty much out to each other.”

  “If I hadn’t seen her shoot herself and then charge a really strong meta, I wouldn’t believe it, but Tori does seem like the type to try and calm down a dragon.” Chloe glanced down at her watch, eyes growing wide as she realized for the first time how much time had passed. “Shit. As much as I appreciate you both helping me out, I need to get back to the coffee shop. Gwen gets off soon, and if I’m not back by then, we’ll be shorthanded.”

  “No problem, you can just drop us downtown and be there...” Beverly
trailed off and a wide, unexpected grin suddenly appeared on her face. “Chloe, have you ever tried using your ability to teleport?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Beverly replied, walking over and taking the barista’s slender hand, “that if you’re willing to do one more test, we might all be there in a hop, skip, and a jump.”

  Chapter 61

  Teleporting with Chloe was nothing like changing locations with Tunnel Vision. While the duo opened portals between spaces, Chloe’s version warped the world around them like a strange vertigo roller coaster. Additionally, hers took a little trial and error as they worked out exactly what constituted the difference between a hop, skip, and jump. Eventually, they figured it out, as well as that Chloe could take along passengers so long as they held her hand and did the motions, which led to them jumping up in the scrap yard and coming down in the parking lot behind Chloe’s coffee shop.

  It was a testament to their willpower that Beverly managed not to throw up at all after watching the world spin about beneath them and that Tori only dry-heaved for a minute or so. Chloe, on the other hand, was entirely unaffected. This seemed to speak to a sort of protection from her own power, though it was also possible that she just had a stronger stomach than Tori or Beverly. Unfortunately, there was still another teleport required of them, as they realized Chloe had parked her car at the scrap yard. This time no one got sick, though Beverly’s skin turned green for a reason that had nothing to do with her dragon necklace.

  Eventually, Chloe dropped them off downtown, where they walked for fifteen minutes to the unassuming office that camouflaged the guild’s headquarters. While they could have had Chloe leave them closer by, both felt it was best to keep her as far from the guild as possible, both literally and metaphorically. Besides, after two teleports and a car ride, a walk was just what they needed to settle their stomachs.

  By the time they made it back to the floor where their rooms were, both were feeling a lot better, if not fully at a hundred percent functionality. Nice as it was to have a non-guild friend that could teleport, there was an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t be looking to Chloe for transportation unless it was absolutely necessary.

  “And there they are, returned at last.” Tori had barely stepped off the elevator when Lance appeared, wide grin betraying the news he’d no doubt hoped to spring on them.

  “Did you already hear back from the council?” Tori asked.

  Lance’s smile dimmed for a moment before he let out a sharp laugh. “You sure know how to take the wind out of someone’s sails, don’t you? Yeah, we got word about half an hour ago. The plan is temporarily approved, although we also got sent a whole list of other details we’re supposed to provide. Minutia stuff plus contingency plans, that sort of thing.”

  “Hot damn!” Tori said, turning to high-five Beverly, who let out a whoop of excitement. “Look at that! Only a night to plan and we already got approved. I’d say that’s a pretty fucking good sign, wouldn’t you?”

  “It’s an indication that we’re on the right path; nothing more, nothing less.” Warren stepped out from around the corner, appearing so suddenly that he nearly made Tori gasp. Then again, that might have been because of how haggard the poor guy looked. If he’d bothered to take in any sort of rest after they submitted the plan, it didn’t show. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin was paler than normal, and he had something of a sway in the way he stood that made it seem like he might tumble over at any given moment.

  “Good god, did you get any sleep at all?” Beverly’s tone had lost its usual edge, the concern in her voice catching everyone off guard.

  “There will be time for sleep later. I spent my time more wisely, receiving instruction from my mentor.” Warren was clearly trying to snap at Beverly, but between his own exhaustion and her unexpected sincerity, he just wasn’t able to muster up the verbal venom. “Balaam was kind enough to spend several of his precious hours teaching me further.”

  Neither Beverly nor Tori said anything, because what was there to say? Their mentors were more or less in charge of them; if Balaam wanted to drive his apprentice into sleep-deprivation to give him more lessons, then that was probably his prerogative. Deep down, Tori felt a twist of guilt in her stomach as she watched Warren fight to stay conscious. Before she came, apprentices had fallen out of style. If she hadn’t gotten paired with Ivan, Warren wouldn’t be apprenticed to a sociopath.

  “As great a learning opportunity as that was, I think we’re all ready to start working on answering the council’s questions,” Lance said, slapping Warren lightly on the back. “I’ll bring the girls up to speed. Why don’t you grab a computer, head to the lounge, and start doing some research on which exhibits should be our prime targets?”

  Warren gave a half-nod, too tired to argue, and stumbled off down the hall. Once he was gone, Lance turned back to Tori and Beverly. “I figure as soon as he sits on that couch, he’ll pass clean out. I feel bad asking, but do you mind if we let him nap for a while? We’re technically ahead of schedule, and I’m afraid if he’s not with us, Balaam will just find excuses to keep him awake.”

  “I really hate that fucking guy,” Tori muttered darkly. “What reason does he have to torment his own apprentice?”

  “Apparently he’s trying to force Warren to flip his schedule so he’ll get used to being awake at night,” Lance explained. “Magic requires mental clarity, so he doesn’t want Warren to be all groggy when we’re actually out on the job.”

  “Huh. That’s actually a lot more practical than I was expecting,” Beverly admitted.

  “Pretty sure our mentors can’t torture us for no reason, not even here,” Lance said. “I mean, we’re a guild of villains. None of us are big on taking shit from people. Pointless cruelty to an apprentice is a recipe for someone coming after you down the line, though I agree that there were probably less asshole-ish ways to go about this one.”

  “Either way, we’ll pull Warren’s share of the weight until he’s gotten a few hours of rest.” Tori mentally flipped through her to-do list, which, now that Chloe had a starting point for figuring out her power, left only the day job, finishing the plan, and her meta-suit. The last one was out until the weekend was over or until they had a final plan approved, which meant she needed to put all her energy into getting every facet of their robbery outlined either way.

  “You do need to bring us up to speed though, Lance. If we’ve still got shit to do, I want to meet it head on. We’re starting off ahead of schedule; let’s stay there. I’ve got my own prep work to finish.”

  “Ah yes, the legendary technological revelation that will be your suit,” Beverly said. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to have that ready in time? We’ve only got a few days left.”

  “Trust me,” Tori assured her. “Come hell or high water, no matter the cost, even if I have to work looking as tired as Warren, I am going to get my suit done. This is more than just our last trial, you know. It’s our first time out as genuine representatives of the guild.”

  Tori turned and headed down the hall after Warren, mind already set on the sole task barring her from her workshop.

  “I intend to make sure Hephaestus is dressed properly for her first night on the town.”

  * * *

  “As I’m sure you know, our security systems’ current framework was put in when the Alliance of Heroic Champions was officially founded.” Quorum didn’t break stride as he spoke, walking down the long, red-carpeted hallway without missing a step. Given the level of multi-tasking he was capable of, this technically required barely more effort than simply lying on the ground. “Professor Quantum installed it to ensure that every superhero we recruited had at least one place in the world they could feel safe. No mad villain or vengeful criminal would ever break through these walls. Here, if nowhere else in the world, we could find a measure of peace.”

  Apollo did, in fact, know all of this, but said nothing as he followed Quorum down the hallway. He
understood that this was more a matter of ceremony than history, and did his part by being respectfully silent.

  “Of course, the system has had countless updates since then, both in reaction to attempts to attack us and as a result of breakthroughs Professor Quantum has had. Overall, I’d say about once a year our defenses get an upgrade. One thing, however, has remained eternally constant.”

  Quorum reached the end of the hallway, passing three portraits labeled with a golden placard that read “Founders,” and opened a simple, unassuming door. What waited inside was a sharp contrast to the quaint, dated hall they’d traversed. It was nothing but light and metal, a cylinder enclosed on all sides with only a single button-less terminal occupying the center of the floor. Moving slowly, Quorum stepped inside and motioned for Apollo to follow. No sooner had he passed the door than it closed smoothly behind him. Despite the fact that there was barely a click, Apollo had a hunch that, even with his impressive power, breaking through that door would be nearly impossible.

  “Since the AHC’s founding, the only members to have our security system’s highest level of access have been myself, Professor Quantum, and Lodestar. While we trust our members with much, there is also a great deal that is simply too dangerous. The holding cells where we confine metas until prisons can adequately prepare for them, the technology we’ve confiscated from civilizations both terrestrial and space-faring, the myriad of objects that would induce meta-powers deemed too dangerous to be allowed out into the world, you get the idea. It was decided that those with full access to such facilities was best kept limited specifically to those on, or with, the Champions’ Congress. But you’ve seen all those places before.”

  Apollo had indeed; he’d long ago reached the point where he was trusted to drop off criminals to the cells or trinkets to the vaults. Tempting as they were, he had never felt the desire to abuse his privileges. There was no need in him to deal with criminals beyond bringing them to justice, foreign technology was most dangerous to those using it without knowing how, and anyone who’d been around metas for more than a few months learned that mixing power sources was a fool’s game. Tools were one thing, but the objects that could induce meta-abilities were best kept at one per person. At best, two canceled each other. At worst, all manner of unexpected effects occurred. No, Apollo had taken his privileges seriously and treated them with respect. Accessing those little nooks and crannies hidden in the AHC was never his end goal.