by Drew Hayes
Thanks to the lab Doctor Mechaniacal had built below Ivan’s house plus a combination of her paychecks and winnings from the desert trial, Tori’s meta-suit was at last beginning to take shape. She’d built prototypes before, testing concepts and functionality on various bits at a time, but this was the first time she’d ever had the time, security, and funds to actually get one that might work when fully assembled. It wasn’t quite there yet—she’d still need a little more time for that—but Tori was certain that she could have it up and ready to go by the night they had to pull their first job.
Well, she hoped as much, anyway. All they’d been told was that they’d pull a job at the end of field training. She assumed, or rather hoped, that meant they’d be given time to plan and coordinate on their own, which would in turn be more time to finish her suit. If there was one thing she knew about the guild, though, it was that one had to prepare for the unexpected.
This point proved itself for the umpteenth time as Tori, clad in her apprentice costume, arrived in the rookie lounge to find Ivan already there, dressed up as Pseudonym. He might have mentioned he was coming, or at least given her a ride instead of sending her off in one of the guild’s automated cars after work. For a moment, her stomach twisted in fear as she wondered if there was going to be another demonstration like Monday’s. She soon realized that Balaam, Thuggernaut, and Arachno Bro were also gathered. Clearly, this had something to do with all of the apprentices. Once that was cleared up, she was free to be amazed by the fact that Ivan and Balaam were in the same room without arguing. That was no doubt helped by having the other two villains positioned directly between them.
Beverly had beaten her to the lounge, so Tori fell in line silently beside her friend. No one was talking, and while that might just mean a conversation had recently died, she wasn’t going to be the one to break etiquette if silence was expected. Ivan had reminded her time and again that while he might be on her side, not everyone was. Especially the dickbag spellcaster with red irises.
Lance and Warren both wandered into the room in their own time, saw the spread of people awaiting them, and lined up with the other apprentices. Though Tori was expecting things to start when the last of them, Lance, arrived, the entire room remained silent. She was just edging up to ask what the hell was going on when the distinctive sound of moving metal caught her ear. Moments later, Doctor Mechaniacal arrived, decked out in his full meta-suit glory. It was strange: outside of the time he’d greeted her and the guild meeting, Tori had only ever seen Doctor Mechaniacal in full armor or none at all. Part of her wondered why those times had been different, but she was quickly distracted as the guild’s leader began to speak.
“Tonight, on what is to be the tenth and final night of your field training, we have gathered you here to give you information regarding your final trial for admittance to this guild. Soon you will receive the details of your test, both what is expected of you and what resources you will receive. After that, you will have time to begin planning how to tackle your task. However, before we can get to the last test, there is another matter that requires our attention. Each of you lacks an important item you will require when it is time for you to work on behalf of this guild.”
Tori had a hunch where this was going. The sly smile on Arachno Bro’s face, or at least the arrangement of mandibles she took to be a smile, told her that she was on the right track. That was the reason their mentors had come. This was something important, something they were supposed to bear witness to.
“I speak, of course, about code names,” Doctor Mechaniacal continued. “You can’t very well use each other’s real names in the field, and referring to everyone as ‘Apprentice’ is a recipe for confusion. Our code names are, in many ways, relics of the life we used to have or the paths we were kept from going down. Ideally, your name will be known only within the guild, as the best jobs we do are the ones where no one knows we were there. However, life is not ideal, and therefore the code name should be something that conceals your mundane name and speaks to the true identity that lurks behind all of your masks. You were all warned that the time to choose was approaching, so I assume each of you has a name prepared.”
He didn’t phrase it like a question, and Tori couldn’t imagine that was accidental. Idly, she wondered if this was a test to see if they would complete a task even when not given a firm timeframe. It was possible—sometimes it seemed like everything they faced was a test, while other days she was certain the councilors were just making it up as they went along. It didn’t matter either way, though. She’d chosen her name earlier that week in a bit of inspiration that struck her as she was sleepily treading down to Ivan’s basement.
“Apprentice of Balaam, step forward,” Doctor Mechaniacal ordered. Warren obeyed immediately, eyes darting between his teacher and the man in a metal suit, uncertain of where his attention was supposed to go. “Apprentice, have you chosen a code name to wear as a member of this guild?”
“Yes, sir.” Warren didn’t stammer but only just. “If it pleases the guild, I would like to go by the name of Glyph.”
Doctor Mechanical paused then nodded his head. “That name is not spoken for, so you are free to claim it as your own. From here until your admittance or failure, you shall be known as Glyph.”
Relief was evident on Warren’s face as he fell back in line. Next up was Lance, whom Doctor Mechaniacal called out with an identical order and question.
“Pest Control, if it’s available.” Lance spoke with the confidence of a man who knew damn well his name wasn’t spoken for and didn’t seem the least bit surprised when the iconic helmet dipped into a nod once more. Tori was glad he’d thought of something; she knew he’d been having trouble picking a good one. Plus, it sort of fit; bugs were considered pests and Lance was able to command them.
After Lance was Beverly, who stuck to her guns and chose Bahamut to the surprise of exactly no one that knew her. This only left Tori, either by chance or design, as the final apprentice to claim a name of her own.
“Apprentice of Pseudonym, step forward.” Tori obeyed, glancing at Ivan and barely resisting the urge to give him a ‘how crazy is all this shit?’ wink. “Apprentice, have you chosen a code name to wear as a member of this guild?”
“I have. From this night on, I would like to go by Hephaestus,” she announced, perhaps with a small hint of pride in her voice. She’d been pretty proud of that name when it came to her; it felt so appropriate. After all, she crafted stuff, dealt heavily with fire, and even had her lab in a basement. It was a good fit on all levels and betrayed nothing about her identity.
Which was why it was all the more disconcerting when Doctor Mechaniacal failed to nod, instead letting out a long, low “Hmmmm” from the depths of his throat. “The AHC already had a cape registered as Hephaestus. It looks like he’s deceased now, but he had a sidekick that took on the mantle after he passed. One moment.”
Although he appeared to be just standing there, the guild leader was evidently accessing some sort of name database and checking on availability. Tori felt her palms start to sweat and had to double check to make sure she wasn’t leaking nervous heat. After hitting on such a good code name, it hadn’t occurred to her to pick a backup. Shit... what was another good one? Socket? Sprocket? Hot Sprocket? Oh god, that sounded like a shitty porno or garbage microwave food. Wait, weren’t sprockets from The Jetsons in the first place? Maybe the guild didn’t care about copyrights, in which case—
Her slow descent into the maw of madness was mercifully interrupted as Doctor Mechaniacal spoke once again. “It looks like he took the title Red Hephaestus to honor his predecessor but still set himself apart. The first Hephaestus didn’t do much, but it was a name already worn by a cape, so if you’d like to reconsider, that’s up to you.”
“But I can still use it, right?” The pride in her voice had been replaced with fear verging on desperation as she scraped her mind for a replacement in case he said no. Unfortunately, all her worried bra
in could manage to think about was the goddamned Jetsons.
In what she would later consider to be the most beautiful show of apathy Tori had ever seen, Doctor Mechaniacal shrugged those metal shoulders and said, “If you want. Greek mythology is public domain anyway, so as long as no one is using it, then it’s all yours.”
“I’ll take it!” Tori fought down the blush that started to rise in her cheeks and focused on composing herself in spite of the stares and slight snickers she was getting. “I mean, if it’s available, then the name I choose is still Hephaestus.”
“Then from here until your admittance or failure, you shall be known as Hephaestus,” Doctor Mechaniacal announced. “And with that, all apprentices have chosen their names. How long you can wear them for is up to you to determine, though we certainly wish you the best of luck. Now, on to your actual trial.”
From a compartment on his wrist, Doctor Mechaniacal pulled out a small device and set it down on the coffee table next to a half-drunk soda. Moments later, an image flickered into existence above it, glowing green text displayed on a black background.
“Starting tomorrow, you will be given access to Sanctum so that you may learn how to coordinate and plan a guild job all on your own. But Sanctum is a place for execution, not discussion, which is why tonight, you will review the parameters of your trial and decide how you would like to approach it. I should mention that you are not obligated to work together; though, if you split up, the resources will be divided proportionally. As you can see on the image, you have one week from tonight to complete your trial. Use your time well, for it is not your ally.”
With that, Doctor Mechaniacal turned to leave, their teachers following a few steps behind him. Arachno Bro reached out to pound a fist with Lance, now technically Pest Control, as he left, and Thuggernaut gave the newly named Bahamut a thumbs-up. Tori wasn’t expecting anything from Ivan—he tended to keep a tighter lid than normal on his feelings when he wore that costume—so she was nearly bowled over when he placed a hand on her shoulder as he walked by, even going so far as to stop momentarily.
“Hephaestus, huh? I like it. It’s a good name for you. People will respect it.”
“Hard to do worse than Fornax,” she whispered.
“Please don’t remind me. That’s why we let the new members pick their own names in the first place, to avoid incidents like that.”
Then he was gone. Tori watched him leave, the weight of his hand still heavy on her shoulder. In terms of training, he’d probably given the least out of any of the mentors in the room, but she still couldn’t help feeling like he’d prepared her better than the rest of the apprentices. He’d taught her how to blend in, how to keep the code, how to survive. The others might have been taught how to become better criminals, but Ivan had educated her on the art of surviving in a villain’s world. Even if he hadn’t wanted one, Ivan had still done his best to turn his apprentice into a full guild member. Now it was on her to prove that she could go the rest of the way.
Turning from the door back to the glowing image in front of her, Tori found that the others were already clustered around it, and the looks on their faces were far from promising. They weren’t as pale or sickly as when they’d finished Monday’s lesson, but the expressions were closer to that than she would have preferred.
“Okay, you all seem like you just had to force down rotten cabbage, so what kind of damage are we looking at here?”
“See for yourself,” Beverly said, jostling Lance over to make room as Tori slid in beside her. The glowing green text was arranged simply, separated into the categories of Requirements, Resources, and Assets. The first one detailed what was expected of them, the second provided them with a budget and some basic gear they’d have access to, and the final category was a list of ways they could spend their budget. Warren reached his hand forward and pressed his fingers to the bottom area. With a quick motion, he scrolled through the Assets sections, showing the variety of options available to them while the other two categories remained unmoving. It was more fascinating than helpful, as most of the Assets listed were more than double their meager budget.
Tori leaned over to look the document up and down, carefully reading each piece of information in Requirements and Resources no fewer than three times until she was certain there hadn’t been any sort of mistake. Once she was done, she calmly stood back up and faced the rest of her apprentices.
“Well, since it looks like we’re all about to fucking die, anyone else want to have a last drink with me?”
Chapter 57
“You don’t think you might have been a little too hard on them?” Ivan asked, helping himself to another helping of gumbo from the impeccable spread that was set before them. After watching their apprentices choose code names, the mentors had headed off to a small celebration with food and drinks. Wade was already waiting for them, sans suit, a heaping helping of fried chicken on a plate in front of him. Almost no one knew how he ran the remote suit so seamlessly, and those that did were smart enough to keep the leader’s secret just that.
“This is meant to test them, see how they’ll deal with hard problems and still adhere to the code. If I gave them an easy one, it wouldn’t show us what we need to see,” Wade countered. He, Ivan, and Thuggernaut were the last ones remaining in the room, unless one counted Arachno Bro, who’d passed out in a pile of empty beer cans and cocktail glasses. Balaam had excused himself only a few moments after the party began. It was a bit rude, but given that he’d gotten through a whole evening without snapping at Ivan, no one was going to call him out on ditching. The night had been a peaceful one so far; there was no reason to go messing things up.
“Still, those were some heavy requirements,” Thuggernaut added. He had half a bottle of whiskey in a special glass that Wade had provided. Supposedly it was made of a crystal strong enough to withstand point-blank gunshots. All Thuggernaut knew was that it didn’t break when he picked it up, so that was enough for him. “The security level alone would be problematic for a rookie.”
“A rookie, certainly, but we don’t have one, we’ve got four. Four very bright, cunning, powerful metas,” Wade replied. “If they put their collective talents and minds together, I have no doubt they’ll be able to pull something off. Challenges are made to be risen to.”
“Let’s just hope none of them are crazy enough to try and do it on their own.” Ivan was already halfway through this bowl of shrimp, rice, and roux, with an eye on the pot that indicated it wouldn’t be his last.
“Normally that might be a concern, but after their ordeal in the desert, I think it’s safe to say that at least three of them understand the importance of teamwork,” Wade said. “And I daresay even Glyph will put aside his independent streak for a trial as important as this one.”
“Guess all we can do is hope.” Thuggernaut took a hearty gulp from his glass, the smooth liquor burning gently as it moved into his stomach. “We gave them the floaties and the lessons, now we hurl them into the pool and hope they can swim.”
“True,” Ivan agreed. “I just wish so many before them hadn’t reached this point and then drowned. I would be... unhappy, to see Tor—Hephaestus come so far only to lose herself now.”
Thuggernaut nodded, staring down into the depths of his drink in its special-made crystal. How many recruits had he heard about who fell apart when the stakes were real or got greedy and overreached in an attempt to pull off some spectacular score? How many would-be guild members reached this point and then went no further, all the potential they might have had snuffed out by an inability to adhere to the code? He’d been saddened by the news each time, but it was always a distant pain, nothing that cut him deep. Now he was forced to imagine how it would feel if Beverly, Bahamut, the young woman he’d worked so hard to help train, was suddenly gone from the world.
“You know,” Thuggernaut said, eyes still glued to the swirling depths of his drink. “I think I’m starting to see why taking apprentices fell out of style.”
* * *
“Okay, let’s take this one piece at a time. Lance, break down the requirements for us.” Tori paced around the lounge while Beverly and Warren sat at the table near the vending machines, pens and paper stretched out before them. Only Lance remained near the projector, staring into the glowing words that seemed specifically designed to doom them.
“First off, we have until next Friday to complete the trial, but we have to give the guild a full twenty-four hours’ notice before we do it so they can make arrangements,” Lance said, reading the first point dutifully.
“Not a lot of time, but at least they didn’t only give us tonight,” Beverly muttered.
“Second, the job we pull must adhere to the guild’s code, meaning we have to minimize our chances of getting caught or causing civilian injury and avoid alerting the capes at all costs,” Lance continued.
“Yeah, yeah, that one was already a given.” Tori twirled her hands to indicate that he should get on with it.
“Third, whatever job we do must make a profit of no less than half a million dollars. No destruction for the sake of destruction or anything along those lines. We’re all on the same page, though; robbery is our best bet, right?” Lance glanced up from the projector to concur with his fellow apprentices, who all nodded.
“Any sort of kidnapping or extortion is probably going to get too complex,” Warren said. “Robbery is a quick, one-shot deal. Heck, we could knock it out this weekend if it weren’t for the next part.”
