by Drew Hayes
Apollo considered the scene before him carefully, taking a gauge of the room and the emotions within it. After several seconds of hesitation, he allowed a small smile to grace his lips and gave a soft shake of his curly head. “Well, at least that’s one test you didn’t fail.”
“Say what?” Cold Shoulder whipped her head around so quickly that some of her brunette locks smacked Medley in the cheek.
“Failure isn’t pretty, but it happens,” Apollo explained. “No one expects any superhero to be perfect. We all lose sometimes. What matters most in these situations isn’t the loss in itself: it’s what you take away from it. Aside from failing to be on your guard against magic, Medley was the only one who made an actual tactical error. There are little lessons I expect all of you to take away from tonight, but he should have learned a big one. And it seems he did. Even when the opportunity to pass blame arrived, he recognized his failings and owned up to them. That sort of attitude is what will take you all from rookies to legends.”
Cyber Geek and Cold Shoulder nodded while Medley suddenly turned sheepish. It was much easier to be brave in the face of scorn than praise, at least for him, so he looked away until Apollo spoke again.
“Tonight was bad from a crime-stopping front, but good from a training perspective. We can clearly see some holes in your tactics that need patching. Starting tomorrow, you’re all going to start drilling as a team, learning to fight with one another instead of on top of one another. Also, it’s evident that we need to add a fourth to your ensemble. If any of you had possessed magical tolerance, this battle could have gone very differently. I’ll scout the ranks and see who hasn’t been paired up with anyone yet.”
“Yes, sir.” Cyber Geek hesitated, unsure if the question that had popped into his head would be offensive or not. He quickly decided if he was already a little bit in trouble, he may as well take the opportunity to ask. “I was also wondering, why are we being sorted into a team like this? I don’t object; I much prefer having people backing me up. But I sort of got the impression that we had to learn how to function on our own.”
“In emergency situations like the one you and Medley found yourselves in at the club, that’s absolutely true,” Apollo said. “However, for our newer members, it’s AHC policy to have you work in teams for the first year or so. This allows you to get combat experience, grow your powers, and become a generally more effective superhero, all with the benefit of having people to watch your back and cover your weak spots. Eventually, you’ll all be strong enough for solo work, but as tonight demonstrated, that’s still a ways off.”
“That makes sense.” Cyber Geek felt a wave of relief wash over him. After tonight’s loss, he’d started wondering how he would fare when he didn’t have other capes around to help cover him. It was reassuring to know it was a long while before he’d have to learn the answer to that question.
“All right, you three. It’s late and you all need rest,” Apollo told them. “Things have calmed down out there, so consider yourselves all off of standby until you get notice otherwise. I expect you to spend the next few days training, especially on teamwork, but none of you are allowed to start for twenty-four hours. You need time to decompress and think about what happened, so nothing more than the gym for a day, understand?”
All three nodded, then rose from their chairs and saw themselves out of the office. Apollo watched them go, pondering what had just happened. He hadn’t expected such a display of loyalty from Medley; the man had seemed like he was meant for solo work from day one. The pairing with Cyber Geek had been a temporary one to get them both acclimated to the AHC community. For him to stick up for a brand new teammate didn’t fit with what Apollo had expected. It seemed he’d have to reevaluate how to use Medley in the future, though he didn’t particularly regard the revelation as a setback.
Loyalty could be a very useful trait, when leveraged properly.
* * *
Despite everything they’d been through the night before, Tori still had to go to work the next morning. She yawned constantly as Ivan drove them through downtown toward the Vendallia offices. With every involuntary expulsion of air, she glared at her mentor, as though he were personally responsible for her grogginess.
“I told you to go to bed early,” Ivan said after the fifteenth or so dirty look. “It’s not my fault you spent the rest of the night celebrating.”
“Of course I was celebrating. I passed my final trial. I’m a full member of the guild. I’m no longer at risk of dying just from not measuring up. If that doesn’t warrant a night of partying and a day off work, then I don’t know what does.”
“Being a full member of the guild means that your secret identity is now more precious than ever,” Ivan countered, spinning the wheel to avoid a car that had just slammed on its brakes. “And you definitely don’t want to be absent the night after a high-profile heist was pulled. Too many coincidences like that and someone smart will start putting things together.”
“So it’s better to show up clearly tired, as if I was out, oh, I don’t know, robbing a museum?” Tori pointed out.
“Ordinarily, no, but seeing as you’ve been pulling all-nighters for the whole week, people are already accustomed to seeing you exhausted. Honestly, at this point, it would raise more eyebrows if you were actually well-rested.” Ivan turned into the Vendallia parking lot and pulled his car into one of the many empty spots. Sometimes Tori suspected Ivan got here so early just for the good parking.
“Although, you know you don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.” Ivan said the words carefully, as though he were afraid they might break something—which was, in fact, exactly the case. “Even if the official ceremony isn’t until Friday, as of now, you’re no longer an apprentice and as such are no longer compelled to follow my orders. You’ll have quite a nest egg once payment from last night’s job arrives, so you won’t need the money. You’re free to do as you please.”
“Well, free as long as I don’t break the code,” Tori said.
“Obviously.”
Tori unbuckled her seatbelt and smoothed the legs of her suit. “I guess that’s all true, but I’ve spent months building this cover identity. And you’ve shown me just how important our covers can be. Maybe I won’t keep it up forever, but I’m also not going to throw it away on a whim just because I’m tired. For now, Tori Rivas, dedicated intern, is going to keep plugging away.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Ivan freed himself from his own seatbelt and laid his hand on the door handle. “Honestly, finding a new assistant would be a huge inconvenience. In spite of your contrary nature, you’re surprisingly competent.”
“‘Surprisingly competent.’ And the other apprentices all say their mentors gave the best compliments. They got nothing on you, you big softy,” Tori said.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Ivan told her. “I did only say competent, and that was as an assistant.”
“Oh yeah, and what about as an apprentice?” Tori asked.
“Trying, tiring, frustrating, time-consuming, draining of both my food and my patience, wearying, worrying, and all-around unpredictable.” Ivan allowed his usual stoic mask to slide out of place just a touch as a wry smirk wormed its way onto his lips. “And impressive beyond all expectations I could have held. The sort of apprentice I’m proud to say I had even the smallest of hands in shaping.”
“That... was unexpectedly sweet.” Tori turned her head, amazed that the early morning allergies she’d apparently just acquired were able to make her eyes water even through closed car doors. “Okay, you had enough of this sentimental stuff? Because too much more and we might have to hug. I might be able to handle being part of a rocket-powered dragon, but even I have limits to my weirdness threshold.”
“Agreed, I think,” Ivan replied. “Let’s get to work.” With that, he opened the door. All mention of the guild fell away. In public, they were nothing more than Ivan Gerhardt and his wayward, but reforming, assistant.
; * * *
Balaam sat in his chambers, re-watching the tape of the prior night’s heist for at least the sixth time. The focus of his earlier viewings had been on his own apprentice; however, Glyph’s minimal involvement overall meant there was little feedback to offer. What occupied most of his subsequent viewings were the antics of Hephaestus as she darted about the field of battle, leaving a wake of chaos behind her. He had to hand it to Ivan’s girl: she was more resourceful than Balaam had expected. When she’d shown up to the trial in a meta-suit, he assumed it would have basic functionality, if that. Instead, it had made the difference more than once in helping the apprentices pull off the job and escape safely.
She was more dangerous than anticipated, which meant he had to revise his plans slightly. The suit would grant her some melee capabilities along with tricks like her dart cannon and thrusters. It added to her power, but didn’t significantly increase it. Hephaestus still suffered from the same weakness she’d had before the suit: she lacked an ability to overwhelm any sufficiently durable opponent. Fire was all well and good, but against those strong enough to shrug off its effects, she was essentially helpless. Granted, her pseudo-intangibility did pose an obstacle, although it was nothing a bit of magic or forethought couldn’t overcome. Hephaestus was a thorn: annoying but easily plucked, so long as one had the right tools.
Ivan, the man who had been Fornax, was a much more formidable problem; however, Balaam believed he’d hit upon the right method for dealing with the semi-retired villain. It would be difficult but also potentially highly effective. Assuming, of course, that one lacked enough morality to pull it off.
Balaam had made note of how powerful Glyph’s spells had been during the outing; his apprentice had managed to slip past the awareness of every cape on scene. Initially, he’d taken the apprentice for political reasons. He needed to be in the thick of wherever things were interesting, and Ivan’s adoption of the would-be code-breaker had made being a mentor all the rage again. But as time wore on, he had noticed that Glyph’s wards were surprisingly powerful. The young man could grow as versatile as his education allowed. With proper cultivation, he might even make a dependable asset for Balaam’s department. Thanks to the trusting relationship they shared as teacher and student, it was possible that Glyph might even come in handy during the coming events, if he had the stomach for it.
As for the rest of the apprentices, they were unremarkable and unlikely to pose any problem. Few would be involved when the plan came to fruition, and any who were could easily be dispatched. Even Hephaestus didn’t constitute an actual threat; she was just one more tool to leverage against Ivan… and, if he were being completely honest, a way to add insult to injury. Ivan had clearly taken a shine to his apprentice, though he tried his best to hide it. Crushing her would hurt him, and anything Balaam could do to hurt Ivan was well worth the time and effort.
Once upon a time, Fornax would have been the right-hand man, if not the outright leader of Balaam’s plan. Balaam had seen the unstoppable monster as a child and gazed in wonderment at the sheer destructive potential packed into one man’s fists. When he’d become a meta-human himself, a drive to be like Fornax had spurred Balaam to master his craft. He’d quickly grown from a modest spell-slinger to a sorcerer capable of standing toe-to-toe with all but the most powerful of capes. Then one day he’d been invited into the guild and finally gotten the chance to meet the man who’d inspired him, who’d driven him to be the most dangerous villain he could.
And instead of Fornax, there had only been Ivan. Sure, he’d worn the cheap veneer of the Pseudonym name, but even that was half-assed. Gone was the monster who could level entire city blocks, gone was the terror capes raced away from, gone was one of the handful of meta-humans who could fight on par with Lodestar. In its place was the dull, bland, pointless being known as Ivan Gerhardt, a man who had no interest in villainy, who hung to the sidelines as much as possible, and who helmed an entire section of the guild that seemed utterly pointless.
While Balaam still adored Fornax with every fiber of his being, he loathed Ivan for occupying this world in his idol’s place. And he would punish him for it. Oh yes, he would punish him. Even with as much as had to be done to make the plan succeed, Balaam had devoted ample time to ensuring that Ivan would suffer. Perhaps even die. Not a literal death—no one was even certain that was possible—but at least a metaphorical one.
And if Ivan Gerhardt died, perhaps the resurrection of Fornax would begin.
Chapter 71
Despite the fact that there were only a few hours of free time between the end of work Friday and the guild’s ceremony, Tori raced into the basement as soon as Ivan pulled into the driveway. While Thursday had demanded she take a much-needed nap, Tori was determined to get her suit repaired as quickly as possible. Now that she’d actually used it, knowing it was broken left her feeling naked. It was a sensation she wanted to dispel as quickly as possible.
Most of the repairs were simple, some only cosmetic. The biggest fixes needed were the giant gash that Medley had taken out of her left arm and the broken focusing lens on her right gauntlet. She’d also gotten several ideas for easily implementable new features, such as some miniature acetylene torches in the tips of her fingers. Medley’s dexterity with his claws in their fight had left Tori wanting a pair of her own. Plus, they’d be useful for spot-fixes in the field if she needed repairs before she could make it to her lab.
She was just finishing up with the left arm when a sound echoed through the quiet basement. It caused her to jump and nearly drop the heavy mechanism in her hands. As her heartbeat slowly returned to normal, Tori realized that the sound had been her phone. In her excitement to get to work, she’d forgotten to switch it over to vibrate, an error she would fix immediately.
Digging through her purse, Tori pulled out her mobile, surprised to see a number she was only recently familiar with on its screen. Donald, absent at work for over a week now, had sent her a text. Much as she was itching to get back to her suit, she felt a bit guilty at the thought of ignoring him. The poor guy had been so worried about becoming disconnected from people in his old life. Not to mention she and the other apprentices had delivered what had to be an embarrassing moment to his team only a few nights prior. Even if he didn’t know she was responsible, Tori still felt like she owed him a bit of extra courtesy.
She clicked on the speech bubble icon, loading Donald’s message.
Hey Tori, this is Donald. Hope things at the office are going well! I wanted to see if you were up for showing me that coffee shop you always rave about. It would be nice to make sure Chloe is doing okay. Let me know if you’re free sometime this weekend.
In all the haste of being attacked and held hostage, Tori had forgotten that no one had gotten to try the coffee from Ridge City Grinders. It was a shame; she wanted to steer as much business toward them as possible. Plus, if anyone in that office had needed a caffeine boost more than her, it was Donald. That probably wasn’t as much the case anymore, now that he’d have exciting late-night fights with criminals to occupy his time, but it would still be nice to catch up.
The weekend would be tough, though. Ivan’s kids were coming, so she’d be staying over at the guild. Tori had planned to use the time to figure out her next steps, where she wanted to live, and how she would use her take from their museum heist. Even if she tried to squeeze Donald in, it felt like tempting fate to leave guild headquarters to meet for coffee with a known cape. While the other villains might not say anything, there was always the possibility Donald would put two and two together. Having just gotten one sword of Damocles out from overhead, Tori was in no hurry to procure a new one.
Weekend is pretty jammed. I have... group stuff. You know. But I’m free every afternoon next week. Want to meet up after work?
Tori carried the phone over to her work bench and set it down near the hammer she’d been using to pound out her suit’s dents. She was barely back to work before a new text made the phone sc
oot across the metal surface, causing at least as much of a commotion as the ringer had. With a glance at the clock, Tori finally admitted defeat and snapped it up. There was only a half hour until she had to go anyway, and there was still packing to do.
Afternoons are good for me. Tuesday?
Heading toward the stairs, Tori typed in a quick response before stuffing the device in her pocket.
Tuesday sounds fine. See you at 5:15.
She had to remember to tell Ivan that she would take a cab home that day; he got cranky about unexpected changes to existing plans. Then again, it was possible that she might be driving herself home come Tuesday afternoon. After all, with over a hundred and fifty grand in the bank, she could easily squeeze a new motorcycle into her budget. It would be nice to have her own vehicle again. It would give her a new level of freedom, which she was still adjusting to having regained. Tori needed to make the transition quickly, though. The longer she stayed like this, the easier it was to get comfortable.
It was about time she started thinking about what her world would be like without Ivan watching over her.
* * *
Donald slowly lowered the phone. Ren hovered nearby, waiting impatiently to hear the verdict. “She said yes.”
“All right!” Ren slapped Donald on the back so hard that the red-haired man nearly went tumbling out of his chair. The two of them were seated in one of the small break rooms that dotted the AHC, waiting for Cold Shoulder to arrive so yet another afternoon training session could start. With what little free time they had, Ren had seized the opportunity to continue his week-long quest of cajoling, berating, and encouraging Donald to finally text Tori and invite her to do something. Today, after a week of being worn down, it had finally worked. As a result of his long effort, Ren was more enthusiastic than Donald at being met with success.
“It’s just coffee,” Donald protested, both because he didn’t want to oversell what had occurred and because an enthusiastic Ren was a danger to those without superhuman endurance.
