Forging Hephaestus

by Drew Hayes

  “Exterior is clear,” Pest Control relayed. “Just like we hoped, everything around is closed this late, so there’s no foot traffic. Cameras everywhere, though.”

  “Shouldn’t be an issue.” Glyph finished drawing his rune. A small burst of light rippled off it. Just like that, he seemed to shimmer. Hephaestus had to strain her eyes and focus to tell that he was there. If she lost track of him, she doubted she’d be able to regain it.

  He rose from his seat and stepped through the rear door, not bothering to hide his movements in the slightest. “Pest Control, can you give me a fly? I don’t know if you’ll be able to see me if I signal you once we’re clear, but I assume you can tell if I kill one of your insects.”

  “Isn’t that what the comms are for?” Pest Control tapped the side of his head where a small earpiece was resting. An identical one rested in the ear of every other apprentice, save for Hephaestus, who’d simply patched her own helmet’s system in to the channel.

  “Technically, yes, but until we’ve got this place secure, I’d like to avoid using them as much as possible. Secure as they are, high-end scanners exist,” Glyph pointed out.

  “Better safe than sorry, I guess. Luckily, with this few insects out, I’d definitely notice losing one.” Pest Control held out his hand and a fly appeared in it. It buzzed over until it was hanging in the air before Glyph and made no move to escape as the half-visible man reached out and grabbed it. Glyph tucked it carefully away in one of the many pockets of his costume.

  “Once I’ve got the box in place and the guards handled, I’ll squish it. That means you’re all clear to approach.” Then Glyph was gone, all but impossible to track as he made his way across the small stretch of empty parking lot.

  This was the part Hephaestus had been dreading the most: she and Bahamut had to sit patiently and wait, unable to affect the outcome of the all-important first step. There was just no way around it, though. She’d built the tech as best she could; all she could do now was trust Glyph to get it in place. Once inside, she’d handle hacking the more complex, delicate systems, but he was the only one who could make the first approach unseen. All they could do was be patient while Pest Control scattered his flies, the tools that would give them a surveillance system even as they disabled the one the guards depended on.

  “Something I wanted to ask,” Bahamut said, her fidgeting betraying how little she enjoyed sitting around as well. “That box of yours is going to disable the exterior cameras and alarms, plus break off their communication, right? So does that mean that, even if we miss a few guards, they can’t call for capes?”

  “With a weaker security system, yes. But this is Level Three,” Hephaestus told her. “The line to the AHC is separate, and any attempt to tamper with it sets off a call. On the upside, it’s not automatic. The capes don’t want to come out every time a squirrel trips an exterior alarm. A guard has to activate it manually.”

  They had, in truth, already gone over most of this; they were talking now simply for the sake of talking, as it let them focus on something other than the fear about whether their crime would even get off the ground. It was a distraction, nothing more, which was why neither was bothered when Pest Control opened his eyes and interrupted them.

  “Glyph just killed my fly. Time to head out.”

  No one hesitated or debated; there would be no point to it. Either Glyph had succeeded or he simply believed he had. Whichever was true didn’t change their next step. This was the only way to move forward. They stepped out of the shack one by one, with Hephaestus flipping on her sound dampener for the trek across the concrete parking lot. Her fuel cells were fine for the moment, and assuming things went smoothly, there would be no need to drain them. Still, she kept an eye on their levels, readying to juice them up if they dipped below eighty percent. This wasn’t the night to take pointless risks.

  When they arrived at the shadow-covered expanse of the museum’s front entrance, Glyph was waiting for them, wiping the rune from his hand and erasing his shimmery cloaking. Behind him, a new rune glowed on the door, though it lacked the vibrancy they’d come to associate with an active casting. “Got the box hooked in to the electrical system just like you said,” he announced. “And I’ve got the guard spell ready to go, just needs one more piece added.”

  The knot of tension in Hephaestus’s gut tightened. While the waiting had been her least favorite part of the plan, this was unquestionably the most dangerous. Here everything teetered on a precipice. Glyph would use a spell that was supposed to put every person inside the building at that moment into a harmless slumber. Unfortunately, people with strong enough minds and forceful wills could often shake off the effects of mental magic, which left the possibility that some of the guards would manage to stay awake. All it took was one to trip the big alarm and draw the capes. If that happened, they’d be lucky to escape, let alone finish the job. Making things more difficult, none of them could go inside until after the spell was cast, lest they be caught in it and knocked off their guard as well.

  “Let me get my wasps,” Pest Control said. A small swarm of unnatural creatures, wasps the size of small hamsters with strange purple stingers, manifested around him. Their hope was that his insects wouldn’t be impacted by magic crafted for humans, but just in case, he was keeping his attackers nearby. Worst case scenario, he hoped to at least see which guards were fighting off the trance before he lost his fly eyes in the sky.

  While Pest Control gathered his troops, Hephaestus checked the front door. Sure enough, her device had triggered enough false readings to make the security system think it was daytime, thus deactivating most of the alarms and locks. The cameras had been trickier, especially since they were integrated with the electrical system, but with a little ingenuity and a lot of experimental magnetic bursts, she’d made it work. They only had a half an hour, though; after that, the device was set to melt itself into slag. No evidence left to examine or trace.

  At least unlocking the door meant they were one hurdle down. Once Glyph triggered the spell, it would be up to Pest Control and her to pick off any straggling guards. Ideally, the ones who weren’t immediately brought down would think they were suffering nothing more than a wave of sleepiness, but these weren’t exactly doddering members of the Mayberry police force. With this much money to protect, the museum had hired people who were smart and tough. Just hopefully not too many of them.

  “I’m good,” Pest Control announced. In addition to his wasps, he’d also gathered a fresh swarm of flies to serve as replacements if his current batch took an unexpected nap. “Hephaestus, I’ll give you starting locations before we head in then let you know if I find any others.”

  “Quick and quiet, that’s the name of the game,” Hephaestus replied. She turned her helmet toward Glyph to catch his attention. “We’re ready whenever you are.”

  Fingers once again glowing, Glyph turned to the waiting symbol and made a final line near the center. The rune burst into light. Each of them could feel the wave of power that washed off of it and cascaded through the building even as the symbol itself began to fade into nothingness.

  “Guards are going down,” Pest Control announced, eyes closed. A small bead of sweat ran down his creased forehead, and his hands were clenched tightly into fists. “I’m trying to keep my flies up, but they’re starting to drop too. So far so good, though. We’re getting... shit, one just shook it off. Now another. Another. Fuck, we’ve got at least three still up, and one looks suspicious. We have to move!”

  Without a moment’s pause, Hephaestus threw open the door and burst into the museum’s lobby, her heavy footsteps thankfully silenced as she pounded down across the tile floor. Pest Control was hot on her heels, the distinctive sound of buzzing filling the air as his minions spread out and raced through the air to their targets.

  “Hephaestus, can you make it to the Egyptian wing?” Pest Control’s voice crackled though the comms despite their proximity. “That’s where the suspicious guard is, an
d I don’t think my bugs are fast enough.”

  “On it.” She turned on her heel and bolted down a hallway to the right. Their team knew the museum’s layout backwards and forwards; it was something she’d insisted on during the planning phase. Unfortunately, that meant she knew how far of a run it would be to the Egyptian wing, which wouldn’t have been worrying if the guard office weren’t on the way. If she didn’t make it in time, the guard would sound the alarm and the capes would come.

  Which just meant that Hephaestus had to make damn sure she wasn’t too late.

  * * *

  The placid boredom of the monitoring room was long gone. Hurried reports and frantic calls followed one another so quickly that sentences blurred together into one chaotic cloud that hung heavily over the employees’ heads. Just as Stalwart Iron had predicted, the lull of the afternoon had given way to a sudden uptick in disasters that demanded superhero attention.

  “Got a subway car stalled on the tracks,” came a voice from the crowd. “No chance of injury, but the rerouting system is busted, which means that until we get in there, every other car is stuck behind it, leaving hundreds trapped.”

  “Send in Cresscriss,” Apollo ordered. “He’s got that alien tech that turns things weightless. Should make the car easy to pull out.”

  “Small fire in an abandoned warehouse district that could spread to populated areas if left unchecked,” said another one of the operators.

  “Flameingo and Aqua Bomb should have finished up the forest fire by now, get them over to the warehouses as soon as they’re done.” Apollo stepped away from the chaos for a moment, allowing the operators to handle the smaller incidents as he made his way over to the sole terminal staffed by another superhero.

  Stalwart Iron wasn’t snapping off orders or yelling at the operators; in fact, he wasn’t saying anything at all. He merely watched his three screens silently, going over every report and dispatch as it came in with the single-minded focus that only a mechanical brain could manage. Apollo leaned down, ostensibly to stare at the screens, though they were little more than gibberish to him. In reality, he simply wanted to speak without others overhearing the conversation. None of the mundanes knew about the guild, and Apollo saw no reason to change that. Hell, he even kept actual members of the AHC on a need-to-know basis. The tolerance of criminals was not something he considered a point of pride for the Alliance.

  “Find anything?”

  “Nothing aside from the same bombardment that’s hitting everyone else’s screen,” Stalwart Iron replied. “But I’m trying to ignore that as best I can. If this is organized chaos, then anything we’re seeing is something they want us to look at, which means it serves their purposes. We have to look where they aren’t guiding our eyes.” He paused, checking the screens over once more, then began to type so quickly that Apollo feared his keyboard might break. “That gives me an idea. I’ve been trying to see a pattern in all this, but what I should be looking for is the absence of one.”

  A few more clacks on the keyboard, and Stalwart Iron pulled up a new screen, this one a map that Apollo recognized well. “Why am I looking at Dash City?”

  “Because it’s one of the only major metropolitan areas that isn’t seeing a huge upswing in crime and destruction tonight,” Stalwart Iron explained. “Everything we’re working with is still theoretical, but if we assume there is agency to these incidents, wouldn’t it stand to reason they would keep their actual target as clear of superheroes as possible?”

  “It does make sense,” Apollo agreed. “But even if you’re right, Dash City is a big place, with a lot of places worth robbing. We have no idea when or where they’ll strike. Can we still find them?”

  “Let me do some digging, sir. If they’re out there, I’ll uncover them.” Stalwart Iron went back to his screen, and Apollo walked away to let him work. If anyone could uncover the guild’s target, it would be Stalwart Iron. Once that happened, it was just a matter of sending out the new team and making sure the press was on standby.

  Really, Apollo’s only regret was that he wouldn’t be able to see the looks on the older guild members’ faces as their entire new crop of criminals was simultaneously wiped out.

  Chapter 65

  Hephaestus barreled through the “Hometown Heroes” section of the museum, darting past exhibits dedicated to the capes from Dash City like Combust, Baron Peppermint, and Dapper Doll. She hurdled over a stone bench, meta-suit giving her speed and strength that would have been impossible on her own. Even with the boosts, she was still cutting it close, which was why she’d decided to take a risk. If she’d correctly predicted the guard’s moves, he would try and reach the office to sound the alarm as soon as possible. If he’d taken the far route to investigate things further, then she would miss him completely. It was a big gamble, but there were no riskless choices available to her. That was what it meant to be a villain.

  As she whipped around a corner, her heart sank. By her estimates, the guard should have at least made it to this hall by now. If it was empty, that meant she’d made the wrong choice. Hopeless as it seemed, she flicked over to her thermal cameras just to be sure. Her sinking heart leapt up to her throat. There he was, tucked carefully behind a nearby wall, hands held in a position that left no doubt he’d drawn his gun. But the suit’s silencers were still functional. How had he known she was coming?

  Hephaestus spared a quick glance backward. Only then did she notice that her foot had clipped the edge of the bench, sending a spray of small concrete chunks across the floor. She hadn’t heard it over her own panting, but for someone moving carefully and listening well, there was no doubt the noise would be a beacon of approach.

  So, he knew someone was coming, but probably not where she was. That would only last until he peeked around the corner, at which point bullets would no doubt begin to fly. Aside from alerting every other conscious guard that something was up, there was also the chance that a good shot would damage her suit; she hadn’t had time to adequately test its durability. She needed to stop him before he got off a single bullet.

  Hephaestus began to run once more. For just this first moment, she knew where he was and he couldn’t track her. If she was fast enough, there was a chance she could still take him by surprise.

  Quick as she was, Hephaestus was still a few seconds short of catching the guard completely unaware. He spun around the corner, gun raised at the ready, just as she arrived. For a fleeting second, complete shock overtook him as he watched a metal person racing toward him at full speed. Then his eyes narrowed, and he raised the gun a few inches.

  With no time to think, Hephaestus moved on pure instinct. Her right hand closed around the muzzle of the gun just as the first shot went off, and her left fired a series of small darts into the guard’s chest. Resistant as his mind might have been to magic, it didn’t have the same immunity to chemicals, and within seconds he was slipping gently to the floor. Hephaestus lowered him carefully, right hand still covering the gun, until he was safely resting on the tile. Only then did she pull back her gauntlet to survey the damage.

  On the upside, the sound dampeners had managed to suppress the gun’s roar and her gauntlet had successfully protected her hand. On the downside, however, the palm of the gauntlet was wrecked. The ray that concentrated thermal energy, the one she’d first shown Ivan and Xelas a prototype of, was useless. Without the focal point for release, it couldn’t be trusted. Granted, she wasn’t supposed to need it in a simple robbery, but she’d sure felt a lot better knowing it was there.

  Flexing her fingers, she noted that the glove’s responsiveness was also hindered. She could still use the hand for punching and other blunt-work, but anything delicate was off the table. That could be a problem, because she still had quite a bit of security hacking left to do before the night was done.

  “Hephaestus.” Pest Control’s whispered voice crackled in her ear. “I’ve neutralized my guards, and I can’t see any others. Were you able to subdue yours?”
/>   “Yeah, I got him,” Hephaestus confirmed. “He’s safe and sound and will sleep until halfway through tomorrow morning.”

  “Glad to hear it. Glyph and Bahamut, that means you’re both clear to enter. First phase of our infiltration is complete,” Pest Control announced.

  One down, two to go. Hephaestus tested her gauntlet one more time then hurried off to meet the others at the lobby, a slight spring in her step. Busted ray aside, that first part had gone pretty smoothly, and that was the riskiest part. From here on, so long as they stayed smart and careful, they shouldn’t have any more serious hurdles to clear.

  * * *

  Donald was doing his best to hide his nerves, but it was a losing battle. The costume that had been designed for him—a reinforced dark silver number with electric blue highlights—felt natural despite its weight. After all, the garment and all its doubles hanging in his closet had been made specifically for him. Ren stood nearby, his own outfit more like gladiator armor, sections strapped on to offer protection while not restricting movement. These outfits should have made him feel like they were official, real superheroes waiting on their orders to go do genuine good work. Instead, he felt like a child wearing a Halloween costume, just waiting to be called out on his falsehood. Plus, his stomach was churning so much Donald feared he might vomit on the new outfit before it ever saw the light of day.

  “You okay? Your face is a little green.” The brunette woman next to him, real name Irene and code name Cold Shoulder, stared at him from under her own icy blue-and-white mask. Donald hadn’t been given anything to cover his head, as he was already known and would spend most of his fighting time in some sort of armor anyway. Apollo said it would better develop his name as a brand to stay recognizable, at least when out of combat.

  “I’ll be okay, just kind of nervous,” Donald admitted. “Seems like things are pretty crazy out there.”