Forging Hephaestus (Villains' Code Book 1)

by Drew Hayes

  “I’m starting to see why she’s so insistent on being in Wade’s department,” Xelas agreed. “I’ve got a few upgrades in mind I’ve been tinkering with, might have to see if she has any thoughts worth sharing.”

  “No loading the rookies with too much work until they actually become full members,” Gork reminded her.

  Xelas crossed her arms and frowned, an exaggerated gesture that set off red lights around her cheeks. “Stop trying to rain on all my fun. First you break up a me-and-Johnny fight, now you tell me I can’t use an apprentice for grunt work.”

  “I just said you had to wait to do that,” Gork pointed out. “If you can’t be more creative in your hazing, then you really don’t deserve to mess with them anyway. This is you we’re talking about.”

  “Ouch, foiled by my own reputation. Fine. I’ll find more ways to amuse myself at their expense,” Xelas conceded. “I plan to take it easy on Pseudonym and Thuggernaut’s kids, though. They seem the type to want payback and are a little more competent than I prefer my victims.”

  “Beverly definitely is,” Thuggernaut confirmed. “And while I don’t know Tori that well, she has survived as Pseudonym’s apprentice for nearly a month.”

  Xelas looked back at the screen where Tori was pulling apart one of the larger pieces of the robot’s chest, trying to crack open an undamaged section of its electronics. “Let’s hope he wasn’t going easy on her. There’s still daylight left before this thing is done.”

  Chapter 24

  Warren slid his back along the rocky wall separating him from the hovering, human-shaped robot currently scanning for his location. The symbol he’d drawn on his torso cloaked him from most of its sensors—at least, he hoped so—but the spell wasn’t strong enough to keep him safe if the thing caught sight of him. He’d been overconfident; taking down a half-dozen silvers on his own had bolstered Warren’s opinion of his abilities, and he’d gone up against the new opponent without enough research. To say that had backfired would be like saying Fornax had been mildly disliked by the local police during his heyday. As it was, Warren desperately needed to escape, regroup, and strategize. Despite the wounds on his legs and the blood dripping from his chest, Warren still believed he could win against what he assumed was a gold-cored robot.

  But it would require planning, preparation, and time to heal, none of which he was likely to have if that thing caught hold of him. Balaam had made it clear—this was not a gentle trial. No one was waiting in the wings to leap in and save him. It was just as it was in the real world: to fail was to die. And Warren didn’t intend to die. Not in this robot-infested desert, not for failing to impress the guild, not under Balaam’s heel for not living up to his expectations.

  Warren would survive. It was what he did. What he had always done. The only difference now was that the stakes were higher. That, and the fact that Warren finally had some power of his own to swing around.

  Dipping his finger into one of the many wounds torn open by rock debris from the explosion, he began to scrawl a new symbol on the wall behind him. It took a few more dips in the leg wound to get enough blood, but eventually, he finished his work. He pressed his hand to the symbol and it immediately began to glow, just as the matching one he’d scrawled days before did. That symbol resided on a small outcropping between two mesas over a mile away, sheltered from elements and sight.

  When the glow faded, Warren was no longer anywhere near the robot that had attacked him. The symbol, its work completed, crumbled into dust that caught on the late morning breeze. Seconds after he vanished, the only proof Warren had ever been standing there at all was the small pool of blood drying in the sand.

  * * *

  Hunting the golds was much different than going after the silvers. Silver-cored robots, formidable as they were, excelled in a castle-style defense. They were big and well-armored but suffered from poor mobility. Golds took an opposite approach: they zipped through the sky as they searched for targets, preferably ones they could catch unaware. In a way, their technique was similar to the copper-cored drones from the first day, though those were obviously far easier to handle.

  This meant that Beverly couldn’t fly around scanning from a safe distance for targets like they’d done for the silvers, going airborne now came with serious risks. Since it would make her vulnerable in one of her weaker forms, the women quickly brushed aside the idea of having Beverly do any more solo air scouting. Instead, they decided to use the fact that they were being hunted to their advantage.

  Beverly waited patiently atop a mesa in her red dragon-form, scanning the sky for any flying enemies. When one was spotted, she would let loose a blast of flame in its direction. These attacks were, of course, much too far away to be effective, but they succeeded in their true purpose of drawing the robot’s attention to her. As it would get close, the gold-cored would take a few shots at Beverly, who would immediately shift to her green form. At such a long range, she was easily able to dodge any attacks, even the red blasts. This helped them to gain some critical information: Tori had correctly assumed that the red blasts needed to be recharged after firing. Finding its tactics ineffective, the robot would then drop height, seeking to shorten the range of the shots and remove Beverly’s ability to dodge.

  That was when Tori took her shot, blasting it from her hidden nearby position with the sonic cannon. With its shields down since it thought it was safe, the robot was stunned long enough for Beverly to attack, shredding it to pieces just as she had the first.

  Their first attempt at using the strategy was rough: Tori nearly missed due to the robot’s last-minute shift, and Beverly wasn’t quite quick enough off the line. The robot had nearly regained its senses by the time she arrived, which made for a tense moment as she attacked, uncertain whether her opponent would be able to activate its defenses in time. Luck was on their side, though, and the metallic enemy dropped to the ground as mere scrap metal under Beverly’s assault.

  The second attempt went much more smoothly; the poor robot never even had a chance.

  “Three cores down.” Beverly pulled the golden orb from the scattered electrical remains, her claws and glowing eyes the only remains of the dragon-form she’d shed moments prior. “That’s fifteen hundred apiece. Not too shabby for a long weekend of work.”

  “You’re counting wrong.” Tori yanked the circuit board free as she walked over, dropping it to the ground like the trash it now was and pulling out their last functioning unit. “Since killing this many means we’ll win, one of us should turn in all the cores, getting the bonus. That turns three thousand into forty-five hundred, netting us two thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars apiece, plus some extra from the silvers.”

  Beverly stared carefully at the half-distracted woman as she tucked the orb away in her pocket with the others. Their partnership had worked out well so far, but they’d yet to reach the point that would truly test it. When money and credit were on the line, there was always the chance that one of them would decide alliances were worth less than what could be won.

  “And which of us would do the claiming?”

  “Since you obviously think I’m doing this as some sort of trick, why don’t you turn them in?” Tori suggested as she loaded the final board into place. One shot left on the sonic cannon, and since they hadn’t seen many silvers out since the prior night, it was best not to expect any chances at reloading.

  “You’d trust me to just give you your cut? Not to mention giving up all the credit for these kills?”

  “Trust me, the guild knows exactly who killed what. They’ve probably watched everything we’ve done since arrival. The only people who would think more of me for turning in a bunch of orbs are you three, and I think there are already enough expectations being thrown my way as it is.” Tori set her cannon down before turning to face Beverly properly. “And yes, I will trust you with collecting the money. Best case scenario, you and I build a little more trust between us, something that is very useful to have in this place.
Worst case scenario, you betray me and I learn you’re not to be trusted. Two thousand dollars isn’t a cheap lesson, but better I learn it now before it costs me far more down the road.”

  Stepping away from the robotic wreckage, Beverly shook her head and let out a muted chuckle. “Jesus Christ, it’s kind of creepy how logical you are. Sure you aren’t part Vulcan?”

  “Nah, Spock wasn’t that big on revenge. I’d definitely make you pay for screwing me over. But I don’t really think it’s going to come to that,” Tori said.

  “This place is already weird and scary enough. Last thing I need is someone with a grudge against me… especially when that person could be an ally instead.” Beverly stuck out her hand and Tori grasped it, giving a firm shake.

  “I like to think we could even make it all the way to becoming friends,” Tori added. “From what I’ve seen, having those is half of what it takes to survive in this guild.”

  “In that case, I suspect you’re about to find my proposal very interesting.”

  This voice came from neither Beverly nor Tori. Both spun toward its source, Tori’s whole body immediately morphing into living flame while green scales engulfed Beverley’s form. What met their eyes was not a threat, or at least not something that seemed particularly threatening.

  Lance sat on the edge of the mesa, hands high in the air in a motion of clear surrender, a swarm of bugs helping keep him balanced as he rested. “I come in peace. Is that Star Trek? Damn it, I knew I should have watched those shows. Point is, I don’t want trouble. I came to talk about working together.”

  Tori slowly lowered her hands and the fireballs burning at the ready in her palms, though she didn’t turn back to her human-form just yet. Taking in the man before her, she noted that his leg looked to be in rough shape, and he had the weary, hunkered appearance of someone fighting sleep deprivation and dehydration.

  “You barely look like you can sit up straight; meanwhile, we’re taking out golds with ease. Feels less like you want to talk about teaming up and more like us dragging you along.”

  “True, I’m far from in peak condition, but my power has never been one that required me to do much dirty work. Besides, from the number of circuit boards left and what I saw through my bugs, I’d guess that fancy shooter of yours is on its last bullet, so you’ll have to change strategies soon. I can lend a hand with that on the combat side, or at least my bugs can. And on top of that, I bring something to the table that neither of you has: surveillance and tracking. Imagine if you knew where those gold-cored robots were at any given time. Might make getting around and hunting them a lot easier.”

  “He talks a good game,” Beverly said, words a half-snarl through her scaly snout. “But how do we know he can back it up?”

  A single wasp flitted through the air, rising from Beverly’s back and floating until it landed on Lance’s outstretched finger. He smiled as the realization dawned on the others and considered letting the moment speak for itself, but ultimately decided to really drive the point home. “I found you, didn’t I?”

  Tori slowly shifted back to her human-form, then walked over and picked up the sonic cannon. While she didn’t actually point it at him, the implied threat was more than enough. Tori didn’t need words to drive her points home, not when they were better used for making her demands.

  “All right, Lance, tell us what you’re thinking.”

  * * *

  “Beth, don’t forget your phone charger.” Ivan’s voice echoed up the hall into what he only hoped would be his daughter’s room and mind. Well-intentioned though she was, Beth couldn’t seem to keep track of her chargers no matter what lengths he and Janet went to. Were she a more malicious child, he’d have suspected the losses were intentional simply because he couldn’t fathom one person genuinely going through so many.

  The upstairs bustled as the sounds of packing filled the air. It often seemed like his children had barely arrived before they were stuffing their lives back into suitcases and heading out the door. During those moments, Ivan had to force himself to remember how lucky he was to have even the weekends he did. After all, it wasn’t as though Janet didn’t have good cause to dispute the joint custody. He liked to think it was respect for his parenting abilities that kept her from trying to keep his children away, but in his heart of hearts, Ivan always suspected that fear was her primary motivator. While he would never hurt his children by taking away their mother, Janet likely still believed that crossing him so severely would be bad for her health.

  Sometimes, it was hard to remember the harsh, worried woman as the wild girl who’d had a thing for bad boys. Time had changed her, as it had him, and as it did all, eventually. There were many moments in Ivan’s life he’d have altered given the chance, but his time with Janet was certainly not among them. Not for fond memories of her, which a bad marriage and worse divorce had soured. No, Ivan wouldn’t dare risk changing the past because it might steal from him two of the only things in the world he truly cared about.

  Rick came bustling down the stairs, bag slung over his shoulder, phone conspicuously absent from his hand. His and Ivan’s discussion the prior night had been a long one, heavy on responsibility and trust, and while it ended with a grounding, such was done more in service to formal rule observation than out of anger. Ivan wanted his son to understand the importance of consequences; it was a lesson his life would have been better served if he’d learned it earlier. As the young man, the near spitting image of Ivan at that age (sans a few scars and pounds of muscle) reached the end of the stairs, he looked up at his father with a touch of embarrassment.

  “Dad, I just wanted to say I’m sorry again about last night.”

  “We went over everything, and it’s fine. You know what you did wrong, and you’re paying for it. So long as the lesson is learned, there’s no need to keep raking yourself over the coals.” Ivan grabbed his son and wrapped the boy in a powerful hug. “Just don’t go thinking you can slip past your old man so easily.”

  “Trust me, I’ve got that figured out.” Rick hugged back, even though they both knew it was only a matter of time before he tried something again. This was the age where he tested his limits. Few people in the world understood that better than Ivan.

  “Daaaad, have you seen my charger?” The voice carried down from upstairs, causing Ivan to wince while in mid-hug. He glanced down at Rick, who quickly shook his head to the negative. Wordlessly, he reached into a drawer on the desk resting at the foyer’s edge and removed one of a half-dozen identical white cords with specialized ends.

  “It’s down here!” Ivan called upstairs. He pressed a finger to his lips and stared pointedly at Rick, who took the message. “You left it on the kitchen counter.”

  The goal was not to teach his son not to lie, but that lies were tools best used for purposes that suited them. Keeping a young girl from worrying over the loss of yet another cord, for example, was an excellent use of a well-timed lie. As was what he’d told them both he planned to spend the evening doing: reading and getting a jump on the next day’s work. No good would come of his children knowing he was off to check in on his apprentice in a guild of villains. It would only pointlessly change the way they looked at him, seeing a vision of who had been rather than who he was.

  After all, it was no lie that Fornax was dead. He’d passed away the moment he was pulled from his cell and shown the picture of the newborn baby bearing his DNA. From that moment on, only Ivan had remained.

  Chapter 25

  The afternoon sun sank further toward the horizon as Beverly finished clawing her way through their fourth gold-cored robot. At this point it was almost—almost—easy. Despite his injuries, Lance hadn’t been bluffing about his ability to keep summoning and controlling bugs; not only had this been helpful in scouting, hunting had also become much easier with his ability to send clouds of bugs as bait to draw their adversaries in. After a quick run to the cave for some supplies to at least bring him halfway back to life, the young man had s
ent scouts across the sky in search of more robots. Shortly thereafter, a gold-cored arrived to take them down. Tori ambushed the robot in fire-form alongside a green-dragon Beverly; their mechanical opponent barely had the chance to throw up an energy shield that hissed and crackled as Beverly’s claws cut through it. Her hands were bloody as it fell to the ground, but by the time the robot was in pieces, her wounds had healed. It seemed the green dragon really could take quite a bit of punishment.

  “And this makes four.” Tori pointed to the gold core, which Beverly quickly scooped up, using her claws like pincers and slipping it into the pouch on her expanded uniform. “Though, Lance, you’re only getting a third of the ones you help bring down.”

  “Tell you what, why don’t you just go ahead and keep my share too?” Lance said. He pulled himself slowly up from behind the rocks where he’d been hiding, his swarm replaced by an actual crutch Tori had fastened out of leftover parts from their salvaged silver-cored parts.

  “You helped us destroy it,” Tori reminded him.

  “Sure, but you helped bandage my leg and gave me food and water. Never a good idea to overextend one’s position in a deal. I’m lending aid as thanks for you two helping me survive this long, and hopefully until the end of the trial.” Lance looked up at the dipping sun, taking in the splendor as its light danced across the mesas. “And seeing how much assistance I’ll need getting back, let’s just say I feel more comfortable trading my help for yours rather than getting greedy.”

  “He’s smarter than he looks,” Beverly noted, the last of her dragon-self slipping away.

  “To be fair, given my size and appearance, that’s a pretty low bar.” Lance shrugged his muscular shoulders and smiled with the sort of willful innocence that really had no place on an apprentice of the villains’ guild. “But I am smart enough to know we’re starting to get near the end of our time. We can try and hunt one more if you want, though I’d be surprised if getting back is really going to be as easy as just walking over.”