by Andrea Speed
Miller Tower was a twenty-story phallic building in the heart of downtown, and even though Miller and Super Force could have had the whole building to themselves, that kind of space hogging in a town with a notorious apartment shortage was frowned upon. Nobody would have seen them as the good guys if they stole all that space for themselves. So there were tenants in the building, albeit heavily screened ones, who had to sign a liability waiver that absolved Super Force of any responsibility if their place or any person was destroyed in an attack or a fight. How did supposed good guys get away with that shit? It baffled Kaede no end. If a bad guy tried that stuff, they’d have been run out of town on a rail.
That morning, while Ash was finishing his breakfast, Kaede had remotely accessed the “dumber” AI that ran functions for tenants in the tower and planted a phony repair appointment for the tenant in 716 so when security checked, Kaede and Ash would be authorized to be there. It would have been nice if Kaede could’ve accessed Super Force’s “smarter” AI, but it couldn’t be hacked from the outside. You had to go in and do it in person, if you could do it at all. But he was confident that if he couldn’t do it, his dad’s crazy genius could break whatever Super Force had.
The security in the lobby consisted of two rent-a-cops, who checked Kaede’s and Ash’s toolboxes to make sure they really had tools in them—like Kaede had suspected, they did a very cursory search—and when they saw Kaede and Ash were in the system, waved them on.
The elevators of the tower only went up to the eighteenth floor. To get higher, you needed to pass an optic scan. But there was a USB port in the elevator panel, and Kaede was able to plug into the system and screw up the locking system so it would accept any eye scan as a correct one. With that, Ash’s eye was scanned, and the elevator took them up to Super Force’s two top floors.
The lab and everything else was on the top floor. The penultimate floor was where the team lived. They had their own units, although the floor also had communal spaces, such as a kitchen and what Kaede took to be a rec room. It managed to look overpriced and sterile. He wasn’t convinced any of them ever spent any time here.
Although he wanted to fuck shit up just because he disliked them, that really wasn’t the plan and might give up the game. So they went upstairs to the lab, which took up most of the floor it shared with the built-in hangar that housed Super Force’s private jet. How they’d managed to get that approved, Kaede had no idea. Dark Justice had a jet and a helicopter, not to mention a custom-made vehicle that didn’t look street legal. Apparently, as long as you had money, you got to do whatever the fuck you wanted, no matter how unsafe it seemed. Nice to know money still talked.
The AI was undergoing a methodical breakdown, leading to lights flipping on and off randomly, but they hardly needed them to see the lab was full of expensive and often superfluous equipment. Kaede was willing to bet that Amazing couldn’t even use half this shit, not without googling for help. But he admittedly had a low opinion of the guy.
Kaede found his dad’s machine, and Ash, who was ridiculously strong, grabbed it while Kaede set up the special time-release bomb that was part of the whole framing deal. It was actually a two-pronged frame. The first was using proprietary software as part of the AI hack; the second was this very high-tech, still-in-development bomb. QuarCorp, the military contractor DJ’s father owned, had an “asymmetrical warfare” division, where Kaede found the virus for the hack, and a more general warfare division, where the bomb that was about to go off came from. The bomb was a rip-off of a Dr. Terror design, but it was Quarcorp’s rip-off.
It was a bomb meant to take out the contents of a room. Not people—although it could do that too—but things. Everything, without too much in the way of collateral damage. His father’s bomb spewed out sulfuric acid. So did QuarCorp’s knockoff version, but in a lesser quantity, and with a slightly bigger, unnecessary bang. But the end result was the same, with everything in the room getting splattered and melting. The room would also be toxic prior to a qualified cleanup, so it was an extra level of dickery. That shouldn’t have made him happy, but it totally did.
There was no way of getting the gene machine past the downstairs security, but that was okay as they didn’t really need to. Not only was it his dad’s tech, but it was old tech. Kaede just wanted to make sure Amazing couldn’t even retroengineer this stuff. They broke out a window on the living level and dropped the machine out the back of the building, where it plummeted nineteen stories to the service alley behind the tower. It broke into a couple dozen good-sized chunks and many smaller, less helpful pieces. They’d just pick up the big chunks.
The AI meltdown was still occurring and getting a little nuts, so they got off on the seventh floor and took the stairs down, and the rent-a-cops were so busy dealing with residents upset by the various AI breakdowns that they didn’t even notice them leaving. They retrieved their car, retrieved the pieces, and left, just as the shit really started hitting the fan.
Kaede peeled off his fake face first chance, then squirmed out of his coveralls. Ash did that at the first light they came to. They abandoned the car in an alley on the bad side of town, keys still in it, and eventually threw the coveralls down a sewer—Ash was more than strong enough to lift up a manhole cover. They then went back to Kamani and dumped the broken machine parts in a recycling area. They’d timed it right too, as they were able to thank Neil and Abigail for coming and bid them farewell.
As soon as they were gone and he and Ash were safely ensconced in Kaede’s office, Ash asked, “What do you think is going to happen? Do you think they’ll believe Dark Justice actually sabotaged them?”
“No, but then yes.”
Ash stared at him. “How is that an answer?”
“They’ll think it’s a frame-up, because Dark Justice wouldn’t, and even if he would, why would he be so obvious about it? But I expect him, with his pompous, prickly nature, to deny it violently, so much so that it’s suspicious. And they know it makes no sense, but the violence of his refusal, and the simple fact that it’s completely senseless, will make them wonder. He’ll blame it on me, but they’ll recall meeting me at the beginning and end of their tour and never buy it, especially since they’ll be looking for two white guys. All you need to do is open up a sliver of doubt, and people will widen it for you. They’re good like that.”
“That’s very cynical.”
“I know. It’s also true. There’s no paranoiac like a hero afraid another hero is trying to make them look inferior.”
The “attack” on Miller Tower actually made the news, and apparently, as of the time of the broadcast, the building’s AI was still running rampant, which was amazing. He hadn’t even used a really good virus, since he wanted to frame QuarCorp. What would they do if he unleashed his full computer fury on them? He probably could have permanently broken them. Mr. Amazing really wasn’t that amazing, was he? There was so much false advertising among heroes, it was appalling. You couldn’t trust anyone these days.
The news seemed to be calling it a “terrorist attack,” which was ridiculous but probably made for better ratings. A terrorist attack where no one was hurt and a few people were mildly inconvenienced? If only all terrorists were so thoughtful.
Ash snuggled up to him on the sofa, and Kaede could tell he was nervous about something, which was weird. He was never nervous. Finally he said, “I like you, Kaede.”
Kaede smiled, looping an arm around Ash’s shoulders. “I like you too.”
“No, I mean… I really like you. Is that going to be a problem?”
Kaede smiled. It was nice to know his affection for his strange, possibly half-human bodyguard was not one-sided. “Why would that be a problem?”
Ash looked away, frowning slightly. “It’s not very professional.”
That made Kaede bark with laughter. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not very professional. I don’t care about that.”
Ash grimaced, and it was very cute. Seeing Ash looking
even the slightest bit vulnerable made him adorable. “Your dad might care.”
Kaede shrugged, “Then we don’t tell him. It’s my ass, and I’d rather have you protecting it.”
Ash smiled crookedly in a way that suggested he was still unused to making this facial expression. “See? That’s why I like you.” They snuggled together on the couch and turned from the lunacy of the news to the lunacy of a movie that seemed to be 90 percent bad CGI. Which was worse? Kaede was still trying to decide when Ash asked nervously, “Could we, uh, sleep together? I mean, in the same bed. I don’t know if I’m ready for the other thing… I just sorta… like sleeping with someone else. It’s weird, but it’s mostly a good weird.”
“Share a bed, you mean? Sure, why not?” Kaede did like getting all snuggly with Ash. Of course, this was going to make the blue-balls situation worse, but he’d just have to deal with it. Baby steps. At least Ash felt comfortable enough to want to share a mattress with him. That was progress.
It was actually a little difficult to sleep that night because he was nervous about a million things. But it was nice to cuddle up with Ash, who slept not unlike a corpse. Kaede was downright envious of the way he could just lie down and be almost instantly dead to the world. Maybe that was a minor superpower of his.
Kaede hated to get up, especially since Ash had snuggled his head against Kaede’s neck, but today was going to be a hell of a day. As the computer reminded him, the Moreau Ball was on tonight. So with great reluctance, he slipped out from beneath Ash’s arm and started getting ready.
The Moreau Ball was an annual event, dating back to DJ’s father, the war profiteer. It was a way to applaud himself and his charitable efforts and still seem like he wasn’t a complete self-aggrandizing dick, although Kaede was of the opinion he came off like that anyway. Could nobody see what a giant asshole he was? Who else held a huge party to celebrate how great they were? Only despots and billionaires.
Anyway, it had somehow become a regular thing, even though now it was all about Tony and not his dad. Tony had invited Kaede, and Ash had thought that was odd, but Kaede told him DJ was into that whole “keep your enemies closer” bullshit, and he probably thought he was being clever while he was actually being clichéd. But that’s how Dark Justice rolled. One-man cliché factory. His lack of self-awareness was genuinely startling, but that was true of most anyone who slapped on a cape, good or bad.
Kaede took advantage of Ash still being asleep to play with his hair in the bathroom mirror, trying to settle on a style for tonight. He wanted to come off as suave and sexy, and very much a villain, but only to DJ. He wanted to drive DJ insane with rage that nobody else could seem to figure out that Kaede was Dr. Terror’s “son” and responsible for a lot of the bad shit in town. Not that good old DJ could prove any of it, mind you. He always felt his knowing was good enough, although experience should have taught him by now that it simply wasn’t. Dark Justice did have fans in this town, but a shocking number of them were on the payroll.
Kaede felt silly trying out new hairstyles, but he would have felt even sillier if Ash were awake in the next room, and he wasn’t sure why. Except this was foolish. What was he, five?
That didn’t stop him from slicking back his shower-wet hair and striking various sexy poses. Most were ridiculous. He liked to think they were simply silly and not related to the fact that it was him doing them.
Finally he decided on swept back but not slicked back, as slicked back looked way too douchey. He wasn’t sure anyone could carry that look off successfully. By the time he was done fussing with his hair, Ash was up, still confused about why they would be going to this party, especially since Moreau seemed so mad at them. One of these days, Kaede would teach him about the beauty of a slow boil.
They weren’t going in to work today because he wanted Moreau to get really pent up. It was probably too much to hope for a big explosion at DJ’s own party, but Kaede couldn’t help but aim high.
Because it was a special day—in theory—Kaede decided to make some waffles. It had been ages since he’d actually made his own, and when he found out Ash had never had them, he absolutely had to. He even busted out the chocolate chips. That confused Ash, who thought that made it a dessert, not a breakfast, which meant Kaede had a lot to teach him about America. In the land of Pop-Tarts and pancakes on a stick, there was little distinction between the two things. And why should there be? Kaede felt if they wanted to eat dessert for breakfast, they should, dammit. They were adults, and they were supervillains. The only rules they had to follow were ones they wanted to.
After breakfast, Kaede devoted himself to finding Ash a worthy outfit. One that said “I’m a total professional” while also saying “I’m a sexy motherfucker.” This was harder than it sounded, because usually outfits tipped one way or another. It didn’t help that he found Ash super sexy no matter what.
But he found a black suit with a subtle pinstripe that looked fabulous on Ash, especially when paired with a light blue shirt that didn’t call attention to his pale skin and white hair. It also went with Kaede’s more tuxedo-like suit, which was actually an extremely dark blue rather than black. That wasn’t immediately obvious. You could only tell under the right lighting. Very fashion forward, very suave. It’d look great with his hairstyle, and if he was right, would slightly show up Moreau, which should add fuel to the fire of his hatred.
The event supposedly started at six, but they made sure not to appear at the Moreau Building until seven fifteen, just to be fashionably late. He so wanted to go in with Ash on his arm, but that would have given too much away. The fact that Moreau still thought Ash was his harmless, hapless minder was genuinely hysterical. He wasn’t going to figure it out until Ash beat the shit out of him, was he? To be fair, Ash played the part well. He looked slight, was very quiet, and hardly ever moved a muscle. Like a perfect ninja, but Kaede didn’t expect Moreau or any of the other capes in town to put that together. They just assumed the bigger the guy, the more superior they were. Which was part of the reason Kaede would never be considered a serious threat by any of them, even if they did believe he was Dr. Terror’s son. He was a pocket-sized villain, therefore hardly worth losing sleep over. One day he’d make them regret that.
But not tonight. Tonight he was still playing the harmless, clueless heir of a company that no one really understood, probably a rival in the armaments business that Moreau wanted to keep tabs on. Only he and Moreau would know his true reason for being here, and absolutely no one would pay much attention to Ash, as they’d probably misidentify him as a powerless functionary. That was exactly the type of everyday camouflage Ash’s gengineers probably had in mind.
The Moreau Building was a stylistically gaudy art-deco-style building in the direct center of downtown, a ten-story testament to a family that had more money than taste. The ball was held in the penthouse suite on the very top floor, where walls of windows gave a fabulous three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the city, and there was just something about it that Kaede found obnoxious. Maybe it was the aggressive flaunting of wealth in a city that was half-rich and half-poor, with almost nothing in between. You were one or the other.
The Moreaus had always been wealthy. One of Tony’s great-grandfathers had made money on armaments going back to the Civil War, where he sold to both sides and made a tidy profit. War was in Tony’s bloodline, and if he hadn’t slapped on a mask and become Dark Justice, there was a chance he’d have flown out to a third-world country and installed himself as god-king. He had that vibe about him, but the whole family had that vibe. They were better than everyone else, knew it, and got instantly frustrated with people who didn’t acknowledge their innate superiority. Kaede honestly hoped DJ’s father didn’t show up tonight. He only knew him from video clips and sound bites, but he seemed perfectly insufferable and always had a wife a third his age on his arm. The older he got, the younger his trophy wives were, which was one of the most disgusting and yet reliable measures of how powerful and wealthy
an old white man was.
The floors were so highly polished they looked like glass, but they weren’t. The huge bar that dominated the left quadrant of the room was, though, with a milky opaqueness so you didn’t accidentally walk into it. There were two bartenders—a ripped man and an attractive woman in a push-up bra—and sadly they got served by the woman. Kaede really would have rather looked at male cleavage. Still, he ordered a grasshopper for himself, an odd drink that earned him a brief, confused look from the bartender, and then a club soda with lemon slices for Ash, who didn’t want anything alcoholic. As far as Ash was concerned, he was on duty; therefore, he had to be sober. Kaede didn’t know why, as there’d be nothing but an empty threat session from Moreau. Ash hardly needed to be “on duty” for that. But far be it from him to throw off Ash’s process.
The penthouse suite was crowded with women in million-dollar gowns and men in slightly cheaper tuxedos and suits, and well-dressed waiters swooped around with trays of glasses and appetizers. Kaede snagged one of the latter—something wrapped in phyllo dough—as he stood at the bar, sipping his frothy, dessert-like drink. Many of the superheroes of the city were here, although in their civilian guises. Kaede couldn’t help but notice that Super Force was conspicuously absent, and he smiled. Still trouble in those ranks, huh? What a shame. There was a big ice sculpture depicting some goddess or another, and Kaede couldn’t help but wonder what message it was supposed to be sending. Peace? Justice? Judgment? Whatever it was, Tony didn’t have it.
Speaking of which, Tony came stomping over in his expensive tuxedo, looking as constipated and cross as ever. “You have a lot of gall showing your face here,” he said in a dramatic whisper. Ash tensed slightly, but otherwise didn’t move.
