Forging Hephaestus

by Drew Hayes

  Balaam looked from the cape’s remains to his staff and back again. “Huh. Guess I’ve got more power than I realized.” Just for good measure, he gave it another wave and finished off the gang members that Kicknominal had subdued. They burned to ash in seconds, and an instant later, Balaam felt their energy come rushing in.

  Every little death helped, after all.

  * * *

  The left arm was shot and several of her systems were offline, but to Tori’s surprise, the meta-suit wasn’t completely a lost cause. She scrapped the rest of the left arm and sealed the gap with a focused flame, a terrible attempt at spot welding that would just have to suffice until she could get it to a lab. Having no room for an entire arm would have been a serious issue if she weren’t free to reshape herself as living fire. It took some wiggling and a few tries, but eventually she managed to rise from the ground once more as Hephaestus, albeit Hephaestus with a lot of bangs, dings, and one arm fewer. Her legs were barely functioning as well, though only able to take small steps, but mercifully, the flight system still worked. While there wouldn’t be any more hairpin turns, she could still take to the air.

  In the few minutes it had taken her to get back into the suit, Apollo had filled Ivan in on everything: the plan to cause a revolution, Balaam’s betrayal, Balaam’s second betrayal where he’d brought in dozens upon dozens of metas to fight both the AHC and the guild, and, of course, Quorum’s incarceration. Ivan took it all relatively calmly, though Tori couldn’t help wondering if that was only because he’d already beaten the living hell out of Apollo and doing more would just be excessive.

  “What’s the plan?” Hephaestus asked, slowly making her way over to them. The legs were going to need to be rebuilt almost from the ground up. Actually, by this point, that might be true of the entire suit.

  “Clearly, Balaam expected me to be a bigger distraction, that I would keep the strongest of the AHC’s forces occupied as I killed them off one by one,” Ivan said. “But since that’s no longer the case, I think the capes will be able to rally and take control of things, eventually. Our guild is no doubt also getting into gear; once the councilors arrive, it will take less than an hour to purge the streets of every low-level meta who thought to raise arms against us.”

  “So, that’s it? Turning you back gave us the win?” Hephaestus asked.

  “No. That’s what bothers me. Even if you hadn’t gotten through to me, it was only a matter of time before Lodestar would have arrived and removed me from the equation. Sooner or later, Fornax was going to be out of play; there were just too many ways for it to happen for Balaam not to have accounted for that. He’s a bastard and a traitor, but he’s not stupid. We have to assume the best of our enemy in order to not be overtaken by him. So, if Balaam knew I’d eventually stop rampaging and the guild would mount a counterattack, what does he gain by having his forces wiped out?”

  “I know I’m not exactly the most trustworthy person here, but have you considered the possibility that these aren’t all of his forces?” Apollo asked. “As someone who actually sees the numbers on this stuff, there are a lot of low-level meta criminals out there. This might seem like a big chunk, but it’s barely the tip of the iceberg. And that’s not even counting the bigger fish we’ve already locked up in Rookstone.”

  Ivan’s eyes went wide, a very disconcerting image since his face was still plastered with blood. “That’s it. Balaam doesn’t want a gang of incompetent street-level crooks. He wants a guild strong enough to rival ours. And there are only a few places in the world with enough criminal meta-humans who have that sort of power. Imagine how grateful the worst of the worst in Rookstone would be to get suddenly handed their freedom.”

  “Rat bastard,” Apollo spat. “He’s keeping us distracted. With the AHC on full response and the building sealed up, the security at Rookstone is minimal. Even if a distress call went out, we might not get it. But how can he be there and here at once?”

  “We know he’s turned some of the guild against us, why not more?” Hephaestus said. “Not everyone would have been in the base when your people attacked, and of those missing, I’ll bet a few are with Balaam, helping with the breakout. He might have cherry-picked the gang members with potential to help out too. While he puts on the show, they do the real work. It’s actually standard guild tactics, when you think about it.”

  “Somehow, that pisses me off even more,” Ivan said. “We need to ruin his plan.”

  “I can fly to Rookstone,” Apollo offered. He caught sight of the skepticism in Ivan’s bloody face and quickly continued. “Look, we both know I’m done no matter how this plays out. Between your guild and the AHC, there’s no place I’ll be able to run. I messed up big time, and I’ll have to pay for it. That said, Balaam screwed me too, so if I can spend my last hours as a cape repaying the favor, I’d like to do it.”

  Ivan looked at Hephaestus, who gave a small nod. Apollo might be a piece of shit, but he was a fast one and had the right connections to perhaps make a difference. “Fine,” Ivan said. “Go now. Keep Rookstone secure. We’ll find and stop Balaam.”

  Apollo’s golden glow began to return, and he lifted slowly off the ground, hovering for a few seconds before firing off into the sky. They watched him go, the small streak of light fading into the distance. Within seconds, he was out of sight, and soon his light trail had vanished as well.

  “Think he’ll be able to handle it on his own?” Hephaestus asked.

  “If the jailbreak has already started, then it’s doubtful. That’s assuming we were even right about Balaam’s plan. It’s entirely possible that he’ll arrive and find nothing out of place. But if we were right, then he’s in for a hell of a fight.”

  “At least he’s strong,” Hephaestus said. “Not Fornax strong, obviously. You whipped the shit out of that guy. But still… strong. Maybe he can handle himself.”

  Ivan shook his head. “Some of the meta-humans in Rookstone were put there by the sole cape that could beat them. Apollo is good, but there’s only one Lodestar.”

  “Um, yeah, speaking of, do you see that?” Hephaestus pointed into the sky. What appeared to be a second sun was falling downward, burning so brightly that it seemed like the very heavens were crashing upon the Earth. Ivan had once told her there was no feeling like seeing Lodestar descend, and as the burning ball came further down, she finally understood. There was something about it, something impossible to describe, but when she looked into the light, Hephaestus knew beyond any doubt that the woman within was on a whole other plane of power.

  To her surprise, she felt Ivan stiffen as he watched the light descend. His head fell several inches, and a slight whisper escaped from his lips. “I’m so sorry, Helen.”

  Hephaestus decided that this was probably not something she needed to comment on, at least not while a giant brawl was still going on, so instead, she slapped Ivan on the back with her suit’s remaining right arm. “Since Lodestar is here, I doubt we’ll have to mess with the small fries much. Let’s go hunt down a traitor.”

  “I like that idea,” Ivan said, raising his head once more. For a split second, she thought she saw the wild grin try to slip back into place, but then it was gone, if it had ever really been there in the first place. “I like that idea very much. Let’s go remind Balaam what happens to those who break the code.”

  * * *

  Greasy Gary, a nickname that had stuck with the slimy crook since falling into a radioactive oil puddle had turned him into an ever-slick meta-human, tripped as the others turned a corner. He was a few steps behind, as usual, but it would be fine. With his gang, they were unbeatable, and they’d taken down three capes already to prove it. He slid around the corner, expecting to see Tam and Kel punching people into submission.

  Instead, he rounded just in time to see Tam’s skull get vaporized. She fell to the ground, one more headless corpse on a growing pile. With horror, Greasy Gary realized that those bodies belonged to the rest of his gang. But... how? Ten seconds. Tha
t’s how far behind he’d fallen; ten seconds, at most. What on earth could have mowed through them with such incredible speed?

  His answer came with the sound of more shots being fired, and for the first time, Greasy Gary looked upward toward the source of the noise. Hanging there by means of the jets firing from her feet was a metallic woman with cannons on each arm, blasting away. There were also guns poking out of her back, chest, and a pair framing her head as she spun slowly in place, shooting without error at every single non-cape or guild meta-human on the street. She’d just turned away as he came into view, which was likely the only thing that had saved him from sharing the others’ fate.

  Greasy Gary didn’t waste his chance, spinning around and dashing back down the alley he came from. Was that someone in a meta-suit? If so, they’d put a weirdly expressive face on the front. He could have sworn that thing was smiling as it killed wave upon wave of metas. To be fair, even if he were a better student of history, Greasy Gary likely wouldn’t have recognized Xelas. She’d been through many an upgrade since leaving the public eye.

  Running back to the street he had just left, Greasy Gary skidded to a stop just as a hybrid car crashed to the ground near him. Another flew through the air, smashing into a small cluster of other criminals that had been trying to flee. It was impossible to miss the one doing the throwing: a giant creature with stone gray skin was easily hefting parked vehicles and tossing them at every criminal in sight. One brave group of metas tried to charge it, and they were quickly smashed into putty beneath its giant hands.

  The sound of a rocket drew Greasy Gary’s attention upward again. The unmistakable form of Doctor Mechaniacal soared through the air, firing a laser that neatly sliced in half everything and everyone it touched. More split-open corpses tumbled to the ground, small bursts of light flickering on their necks as they passed from one world to the next.

  This... this was insane. Balaam had assured them they’d have the upper hand, that their numbers would let them take the capes by surprise. Greasy Gary slid backward, hoping to get out of sight, and bumped into an unmoving figure behind him.

  “You all really put your dicks in a hell of a beehive.” A dainty hand grasped his shoulder. Greasy Gary tried to slip away but the fingers didn’t budge, not even as he secreted as much oil as possible. It was such a gentle grip, just firm enough to hold him in place, but nothing he could do made the fingers even so much as twitch. A new hand came around from behind, carefully slipping itself across his throat.

  “Honestly, did you all really believe Balaam when he told you that you could win? Did you never stop to question just how we’d held our position on top for so long? I’m disappointed, more than anything. I’d really hoped that the class of common criminal was a little smarter than this.” The grip tightened, and much as he clawed at it, Greasy Gary couldn’t get it to lessen. It was like the woman behind him didn’t even feel his struggling. She didn’t even seem strong. Just... immovable.

  “Then again, maybe what we’re seeing is natural selection at work,” she continued, even as the pressure on his throat built. “Surely there were some of you smart enough to reject the offer. Maybe we’ll be able to fish out of those pools for future members. And if not, if all of you were really so stupid to believe you could stand against our guild and survive, then at least the example we make of you will ensure the next generation makes smarter choices.”

  Stasis realized that midway through her speech, the slimy man in her hands had gone unconscious. She kept her grip for a while longer, making sure the deed was properly done as Gork and Doctor Mechaniacal swept up the rest of the street. Nearby, she could hear the screams of Xelas and Morgana’s work. They needed to hurry things along; everyone had seen Lodestar drop into the heart of downtown minutes prior. Once she took control, the capes would start trying to take prisoners, and by that point, it might be prudent for legendarily dead or wanted criminals not to be so visible.

  Her hands opened and Greasy Gary fell limply to the ground, one more dead body to show everyone what happened when people crossed the guild. Stasis stepped over him, looking for another straggler to pick off.

  There was so little time to work with, and such a big message to send.

  Chapter 89

  Lodestar was a blur as she whipped through the streets, striking every meta-human throwing punches with a careful two-fingered strike to the temple. It was a technique that had taken her years to master, reigning in her tremendous strength to deliver a non-fatal knock-out blow. Despite her fears that she would be out of practice after so long on the sidelines, her form was still perfect as she downed criminal after criminal. Professor Quantum had once speculated that no amount of control should be able to produce such an effect, and that her technique only worked because she believed it should. It had been in one of their many discussions and speculations about the exact nature of her powers, and while she never entirely agreed with his theory, she was thankful for the ability to bring people down without killing them no matter what its source.

  Of course, not every meta-human was so easily felled; as she zipped into a crowd swarming a cape, her first attack bounced harmlessly off a thick skull. The man whirled around, showing his bulging bones and misshapen muscles. Not all meta-humans got to keep their appearances when the change came, and it was no wonder someone who looked like this had decided to take it out on the world. He reared back and threw his fist at her, no doubt failing to recognize just who he was attacking. Lodestar caught the blow easily in midair, then punched him in the head again. This time, she used a fist rather than two fingers, and he slumped to the ground in a limp heap. She preferred to be gentle whenever possible, but time wasn’t on her side.

  Moving swiftly, she began knocking out the rest of the group, leveling bodies so quickly that she soon revealed their target: a crouched figure clad in an eggshell-colored meta-suit. Sparks and dents came off it as the familiar figure of the Whitest Knight rose from his knees and stared at his savior.

  “Holy crap! Lodestar... you’ve come back.” Even through the metallic hood that covered his face, she could see the shock in his eyes.

  Without so much as a pause, Lodestar drove her fingers through the metal helmet, cracking Whitest Knight on the skull and sending him tumbling limply to the ground, his breath shallow but constant.

  “Whoops, guess I didn’t notice you were on our side. That sort of thing happens when you insist on dressing like a racist di-, um, jerk.” Lodestar looked around to see if there were anyone to witness her words, only to realize she’d already knocked them all out. There was almost no chance she wouldn’t get some heat for that, but she’d do it again if given the chance.

  The area around them had been almost completely emptied as Lodestar tore through, felling opponent after opponent. Now that she was on the ground, however, her enhanced senses could pick up far more details than she’d seen on the news. The criminals were being beaten—murdered in the streets, really—as the guild’s heavy hitters finally showed up for a counterattack. The rest of the AHC was regrouping—evacuating citizens, capturing gang members, and minimizing the destruction before fires or collapsing buildings could cause any more casualties.

  Outside of her immediate vicinity, about a mile or so away, she could feel Ivan as he raced across the city blocks. If a meta was powerful enough, they created a sort of ripple she could sense, though usually only when she was looking for it. What surprised her was that he was on a crash course for someone else strong enough to be felt. Balaam, probably, but since when had he ever been this powerful?

  She was tempted to hurry over and help but decided against it. For one thing, Lodestar and Fornax fighting together, especially after the latter went on a rampage, would raise a lot of questions in the public’s eyes. Things were already going to be bad when this was over; the AHC would need a few capes who could prove they still deserved the public’s trust. More important than that, though, going over would be poor resource allocation. Ivan could handle Bala
am, even if the mage was sporting some extra mojo. She should focus on making a difference elsewhere.

  With the streets falling in their favor, the logical step would be to break open the dome and go get Quorum. Much as she trusted Ivan—and Wade to a lesser extent—having all of the guild’s councilors on the streets felt a bit disproportionate. Better to have another legend alongside her, something to encourage them to not get ambitious when the common enemy was defeated. Besides, she trusted Quorum’s judgment, and he’d no doubt have insight on how to properly quell the fighting.

  Moving at speeds that left her looking like a blur, she raced through the streets toward the AHC headquarters, pausing for milliseconds to knock out every criminal she met along the way.

  * * *

  The explosion blew off Cold Shoulder’s arm. Or, rather, it blew off the arm of the ice construct she was currently encased in, sending freezing shrapnel across the battlefield. The mine launcher spun around from its armored bunker on the ground, taking aim at her once more.

  Cyber Geek dashed forward and jammed the barrel of his blaster through the small slot in its hull, firing off several rounds until the mechanism stopped moving. The strategy worked, but in trying to pull his gun free, he realized it was stuck. Not a good sign: being stationary in this fight could very well cost someone their life.

  Everything between the AHC’s gates and energy dome seemed designed to kill intruders. More laser cannons had sprung out to fire at them, this time joined by small nodes that blasted everything around them with enough electricity to stun an elephant and almost enough to stop Medley. There were more attack-robots as well, along with new toys like the mine-firing systems which were too accurate for anyone’s taste with explosions that were almost impossibly disproportionate to the mass of the fist-sized mines. The worst of it was the unseen system above them, though, well-positioned on nearby buildings or some satellite in the sky. All they knew was that if they stood still for too long, blue bolts of piercing energy would rain down. Medley had taken the first of them and gotten a dime-sized hole through his shoulder. Since then, they’d made a point of staying mobile while fighting their way closer to the dome.