by Drew Hayes
Tori was still riding the high of mentally solving how to couple together her forearm and bicep joints when Donald plopped into the cubicle next her. Like Tori, he looked as though the weekend had taken a bat to him. Unlike Tori, he wasn’t surfing a wave of possibility and endorphins as he sluggishly logged in to his work computer.
“Good morning,” Tori greeted cheerfully. “How was the weekend of raiding? Get back up to the max level?”
“Ugggggggghhhh.” Donald’s head tilted forward slowly until it fell against the top of his small desk with a slight thud. “Stupid, damned, evil, wicked, horrid, villainous, total dickhole of a storm torched my building’s electrical system and every item that was plugged in at the time, including my new setup.”
Tori sucked in a gasp of air through her teeth, then let it out slowly as she said, “Shiiiiiiiiiit. Were you able to salvage anything?”
“Not so much as a RAM stick,” Donald said, his face still smushed on the desk. “I went from having the best gaming set-up in the state to playing all weekend on my three-year-old backup laptop. Yes, my backup one, because I had my main wired in for additional processing power. I just had to get that extra burst of speed. Hubris, thy name is Donald Moss.”
“Maybe it’s a chance to start over, you know? Build something even grander than before?” Tori didn’t have a lot of hope that this would cheer him up; she knew a shitshow situation when she saw one.
“And until then, I will clack away on my tiny keyboard like a total noob.” Donald let out a grunt and pulled himself up, quickly logging on to the corporate system. Sad as he might be, getting dinged for being late wouldn’t make it any better. “Still, it wasn’t a total loss,” he muttered at a volume he thought was inaudible.
“How so?”
Donald froze at Tori’s question, quickly stumbling through an array of falsehoods, each more intricate than the last, before realizing he could hide his mistake in the truth. “Well, I still got to play at least, and my guild was able to log some serious levels. We even got enough intel to make a real attempt on one of the raid dungeons next weekend.”
It was clear Donald was hiding something; anyone with half a brain could expend two seconds of effort and crack through the sweaty, uncertain veneer he had built up. Tori decided not to push it, though. Whatever Donald was actually thankful for, it seemed like it was something he dearly didn’t want to talk about. Probably a “personal” folder that was salvaged or backed-up before the system crashed.
“Just goes to show, you don’t need top-of-the-line stuff to have fun with your friends,” Tori said, her leftover pep adding an unexpected tone of encouragement to her trite line.
“Completely true,” Donald agreed.
Though the sentiment was quite accurate, neither one was currently ascribed to the philosophy of minimalism. Tori was focused on perfecting her suit, and Donald... well, Donald desperately needed to get a better setup and probably some peripherals.
The part of his weekend he wasn’t sharing with Tori had turned owning such equipment from a desire into a requirement.
* * *
One man hurried down the street, three cups of coffee from the wrecked shop nearby clutched in his hands as he got into the passenger side of an idling sedan. He handed two of the cups to the other men who had been waiting, then glanced around nervously to see if anyone in the bustling downtown area had taken notice of him. No one had, as they were all busy going about their day, most of them inconvenienced by the fact that their de facto coffee destination was under repairs and only had a small stand at the front to serve the swarms of caffeine-starved workers.
“What are we supposed to be watching for, anyway?” said the man in the back seat, sipping tentatively at the still-steaming coffee.
“Just watching,” said the driver. “Getting a sense of the comings and goings in the building. We have to figure out when things are the slowest, but there are still enough people. That’s when we’ll want to strike.”
“Seems like a lot of work to rob an office.” The man who had brought the coffee continued to watch people as he spoke. With the amount of money on the line for this gig, he was damn sure going to do a good job.
“It’s a weird scheme,” agreed the driver. “But this is the place he wants hit. Something about corporate espionage, I think. For what he’s paying, I didn’t ask too many questions.”
The backseat rider took another long sip and stared up at the building. “Are you sure we should be trusting this guy?”
“If you want to walk away, feel free. More money all around,” said the passenger.
“I’m not quitting, just saying... I don’t know, whole thing seems weird.”
“In this town, weird comes with the highest paycheck,” said the driver. “Now, watch people’s movements. We’ve only got a couple of weeks before he wants to do the job.”
With a long draw of his coffee, the man in the back seat turned his attention to the sizable office building that hosted multiple companies, hundreds of employees, and, unbeknownst to them, one retired super-villain of global infamy.
* * *
Ivan was unsurprised to find Wade’s seemingly simple silver sedan in his driveway as he pulled in. After their conversation had somewhat lapsed during the “sparring match,” it was clear they still had things to discuss. Plus, Wade had been kind enough to leave a voicemail warning Ivan of his arrival. He sat patiently on Ivan’s porch, rocking back and forth in one of the purchased wooden chairs as though he were nothing more than a friend who had stopped by before the homeowner returned. It was both gracious and prudent, for while the locks on Ivan’s house would do nothing to stop Wade, some of the wards might very well have proven troublesome.
“I’m guessing this means one of us is in trouble,” Tori said.
“Not at all; Doctor Mechaniacal and I simply have some guild business to discuss.” Ivan popped open his door and Tori followed suit. In moments, Ivan had the house unlocked and had shooed everyone inside, lest they give the neighbors more cause for speculation.
“Tori, why don’t you go work on your suit for a while?” Ivan said. He nodded his head toward the wall where an entrance to the basement had been constructed and hidden, all without his consent. It stirred a bit of anger in him, but he forced himself to let the sentiment go. Ivan and Wade had beaten each other up for the better part of two hours; it was time to put the cause of conflict in the past. Not being able to let go in their world made having any sort of friendship essentially impossible.
“Twenty-three years old and I’m still being sent to my room like a kid,” Tori muttered. She still slid the wall aside, though, hurrying down the stairs to her project below without so much as changing out of her work clothes first.
Wade waited until the door was sealed before settling into one of Ivan’s chairs. “I came with news about the recruits.”
“For the love of... I do not want to kill some stupid rookie just because they had the bad luck to get a power they can’t handle. You have a whole guild of villains, I’m sure one of them can handle it.”
“Actually, there’s no need to dispatch any of them,” Wade replied. “All three have decided to join our organization.”
“Seriously? We never bat a thousand on recruitment runs.” Ivan crossed his arms and leaned against the nearest wall, studying Wade’s face carefully for any signs of falsehood.
“The one who summons swarms is excited about his power and very ambitious about developing it. He doesn’t care where he receives the training. Our symbol-wielding mage is a standard anti-social type, hungry for power, status, and probably more than a little vengeance. Truthfully, we may end up with a code-breaker in him, but he at least gets a shot to show he can handle the responsibility first. Lastly, the woman with the transformation ability is terrified of her powers and wants control above all else. Evidently, she nearly killed a few members of her family by accident before Thuggernaut brought her down. I suggested she head to the nearest AHC headquarter
s before I offered her a spot, but it seems she has no love for that organization in the slightest. Thus, The Guild of Villainous Reformation has three new apprentices.”
Ivan resisted the urge to groan inwardly at the guild’s full name; he always felt it sounded like a cult more than a gathering of like-minded people. Wade had won out in choosing the name. Ostensibly it was meant to sound like a group of villains trying to find their way to the straight and narrow; the cheeky use of “reformation”, used literally in this case to mean “to make different” rather than with its more common connotation, pleased Wade too much to let it go to waste. He got off on wordplay and hiding in plain sight. Had it been up to him, Ivan would have chosen a simple, unobtrusive name like “Joe’s Meeting Group.”
“Poor kids. I’d hoped one of them would have better decision-making skills,” Ivan said. “Why’d you feel the need to come out and tell me that, though? I’m not taking on any more damn apprentices, if that’s what you’re after.”
“Perish the thought,” Wade said. “No guild member can have more than one apprentice at a time in the first place, and in the second, all of them are already spoken for.”
“Spoken for? What the hell, no one does the mentorship thing anymore. I only did it as a favor to you.”
“But you still did it, and others in the guild took notice,” Wade replied. “Having an apprentice has become an overnight status symbol. Balaam had officially taken the one who can draw magic symbols almost before I accepted him into the guild. Arachno Bro found much in common with our insect summoner, so he has requested to be his teacher and I approved. As for the dragon woman—”
“Hang on, what’s this about dragons now?” Ivan interrupted.
“Ah, right. Things devolved before I brought you fully up to speed. The young woman who can transform does so into multiple types of dragons. Thus far, she has become a red dragon with extremely hot fire-breath and a green dragon with greatly enhanced physical properties.”
“Versatile,” Ivan noted.
“Quite. At any rate, two people are interested in becoming her teacher: Wildwood and Thuggernaut. As she technically falls under the magic category, Wildwood has a stronger claim, but I wanted to get your input before making an actual call.”
Ivan weighed the options in his head. As a magic user, Wildwood might have a more technical right to the young woman’s education, but that didn’t mean he’d be the better teacher. From what Wade had described, she was functionally a brawler so far, which meant Thuggernaut could probably impart more wisdom about how to use her powers rather than just understanding their source. It was also true that Wildwood was a trusted confidant of Balaam’s, and Ivan wasn’t so self-aware that he could be certain he was seeing the issue objectively.
“You’re the one in charge of the rookies, you make the call,” Ivan said. “Right now, her power is still fresh; it’s unlikely anyone can be sure how it will work or max out. Today, Thuggernaut seems like a better fit, but her next dragon-form might be purple with the power of spell-casting, which puts Wildwood back in as a solid teacher. If you had to use something as the criteria for choice, maybe ask them why they want her as an apprentice.”
Wade leaned back in the chair and smiled. “Funny, I had a very similar thought. Wildwood sowed some malarkey about wanting to pass the knowledge of magic on to the next generation of capable adepts, but it was clear he was following either orders or a trend. Thuggernaut told me that, after fighting our recruit firsthand, he thought she could be much stronger if properly trained.”
“Then you already know Thuggernaut is the better choice,” Ivan said.
“I do indeed. But I was curious how you would handle the situation, given your respective associations. Our guild’s newest recruits are going to be spending time together during their training. It seemed only prudent to see if your prejudices extended to those even associated with Balaam, as his do to you.”
“Relax; just because the kid got snagged by that bastard doesn’t mean I hate him. Bad luck can happen to anyone,” Ivan uncrossed his arms at last and walked over to his sofa, where he nestled into a comfortable position. “But what’s this about them spending time together? It’s classes or apprenticeship, not both.”
“We haven’t had the chance to do both,” Wade pointed out. “Some camaraderie could be good for them, build alliances and friendships that will keep them alive later on. Plus, we can use one of the greatest teaching tools ever afforded to mankind.”
Ivan grinned as he took Wade’s meaning. It was the force that had driven him to fighting endless numbers of capes during his youth, that had caused Wade to work tirelessly in developing cutting edge technology, that defined those born of greatness and those burdened by mediocrity. With four rookies all starting around the same time, it provided a perfect opportunity to use that tool and carve stronger, better people out of them. Ivan’s voice came out barely above a whisper, yet the excitement and potential in his tone caused it to carry throughout the entirety of the living room.
“Competition.”
* * *
No amount of air fresheners could mask the scent of burned plastic that wafted through Donald’s apartment. He was tempted to try candles, but the landlord had a pretty strict policy about open flames, and after already losing his computer system, Donald couldn’t emotionally handle being evicted. The charred husk of his beautiful system still sat in the corner of his apartment, likely the reason he was unable to cleanse the smell of melted plastic from his space.
Donald paid the shrine of lost potential no mind as he set up the video camera on his uneven kitchen counter. It was cheap, one he’d bought from the discount bin of a local electronics store, but it would record images and that was all Donald really required for now. He had to create proof, to know for sure he wasn’t losing his mind. True, if he were crazy, then his brain could make him see madness on video as easily as in real life, but it was a step forward. That was what he was focusing on: just moving one single step at a time toward acceptance and understanding.
Propping up his lone remaining laptop (aside from the work one that he dared not risk in this experiment), on a wooden TV tray took some time, but Donald refused to rush. This was in part because if something went wrong and he lost this computer, he was going to have to get truly desperate, but also because part of him feared what would happen if he tried this and failed. Or, perhaps worse, succeeded.
He clicked the red button on the camera then hurried back into what he hoped was the proper frame. Upon review, Donald would discover that he’d actually cropped the top part of his head out of the shot by standing too close. He also wouldn’t care because that was the least interesting aspect of the video Donald was about to record.
“Ahem. Hi. Um, my name is Donald Moss. And this, I guess, is trial number one of... well, one so far. If you’re watching this and something has happened to me, then things probably didn’t go that well. Mom, Dad, Sheila... I love you all.”
Nervously shuffling about, Donald debated on where to go from there. He hadn’t planned the “just in case” goodbye; this was supposed to be for his eyes only. Still, since he’d already gone down that path, he might as well see it through. The other option was stopping to re-record the introduction, and Donald wasn’t sure his willpower would hold up for long enough to allow that.
“Last Friday, I was at my computer when the building was hit by one of the lightning bolts from that lab’s weird storm. It fried my system and zapped me unconscious. I thought that was all it did, but the next night, when I was on my game... maybe at this point it’s better to show than tell.”
Donald leaned over and typed quickly on his laptop’s keyboard, pulling up the predetermined program he’d carefully selected for the experiment. With a deep breath and an unsaid prayer, he got everything loaded and prepared to proceed.
“Here goes nothing.”
Chapter 17
“Here are the—and I want you to look up from your desk so you can see my
hands—” Tori paused, raising her index and middle finger like bunny ears and then lowering them halfway twice “—vital spreadsheets you need for today’s meeting.”
She dropped the stack of paper on Ivan’s desk, far enough away that he had to lean forward to reach it. “You know, some employees actually show me respect, seeing as I’m the one in charge of hiring and firing them.”
“True, but those employees aren’t supposedly family members with attitude problems. If I didn’t give you shit, wouldn’t that seem more suspicious?”
Ivan quickly checked to make sure his office door was closed and then leaned back in his chair. Tori had a point, but as it was the kind of point that let her continue getting away with doing what she wanted, he didn’t trust it. At least she was aware enough to make such cracks out of earshot from the mundane office workers. Much as Tori liked to test boundaries, she clearly knew where the unmovable ones lay.
“Just don’t take it too far. Remember, you’re an intern, and an under-qualified one at that. Even I can only justify so much in the name of nepotism.” Ivan flipped through the sheets carefully, admiring the work. Tori might moan and complain about her boring day job, but even when she was half-assing it, she was still the most competent assistant Ivan had ever worked with. “Also, tomorrow after work you will not be coming home with me. I’ve arranged to have a car with one of Doc’s drivers pick you up from here. If anyone asks, tell them you have to go in for one of your ‘meetings’ and show discomfort. That will likely make them let the topic be.”
“Oh, right; the kiddos are coming to the house again, aren’t they?” Tori had heard very little about Ivan’s children, and she’d made a point not to pry. His warning from her first day was seared in her mind, and as much as she was growing fond of her surly teacher, she didn’t doubt for a minute that he wouldn’t make good on his threat. “Another weekend at the pork plant for me, then. I’ll pack a bag tonight.”
