H. I. V. E.: Higher Institute of Villainous Education

by Mark Walden

  ‘You can come out now, Raven,’ he said softly.

  A figure detached itself from the shadows at the base of the sculpture and stepped forward into the light. Clad entirely in black, face hidden behind a mask with black lenses covering the eyes, the figure moved silently towards him. Nero thought the shadows almost seemed to follow the figure as it approached.

  ‘Please remove your mask, Natalya. You know I hate talking to you while you’re wearing it.’

  Raven nodded slightly and pulled the mask off to reveal her pale but beautiful face, perfectly symmetrical but for a livid curved scar that ran down one cheek. Her eyes were a cold blue and her dark hair was cropped close to her skull.

  ‘As you wish, Doctor.’ She had a slight accent that betrayed her Russian origins, trained in infiltration and counter-intelligence by the very best that the Soviet system in its cold-war prime had had to offer. ‘But one day you will tell me how it is that you are the only one who can still see me, when to all others I am invisible.’

  ‘Perhaps one day I shall tell you, my dear, but for now there is something else I wish to discuss with you. I understand that you were responsible for the student recruitment operation this year.’ Nero turned back to the lectern from which he had addressed the new intake. He pressed a button on the control panel mounted there and a panel slid back to reveal a small screen displaying an image of the assembled group from a few minutes earlier. He pointed at the figure of Otto. ‘This student, who is he?’

  Raven looked down at the screen. ‘Otto Malpense. Scholarship student, but I was not informed of the identity of his sponsor. He was responsible for the incident involving the British Prime Minister. I conducted his retrieval personally.’

  ‘Interesting.’ Nero was impressed. The incident Raven mentioned had just made global headlines, but there had not been any word of the capture of the perpetrator or even who might have been responsible. The fact that it had been the work of this child was quite remarkable, and only served to reaffirm Nero’s initial impression of the boy. He made a mental note to check exactly who had sponsored Malpense’s selection and scholarship. Some of the scholarship students were orphans, some were runaways but, critically, none of them had concerned relatives who might set the forces of justice upon H.I.V.E.’s trail. Malpense was one of these students.

  ‘I want you to keep a close eye on that one, Natalya. I suspect he has . . . potential.’ In much the same way that an unexploded nuclear bomb has potential, Nero thought to himself. ‘And this boy here, who is he?’ He pointed at Wing, who, being significantly taller than the others, stood out clearly.

  Natalya paused for a moment, studying the tall boy with the long dark ponytail. ‘That is Wing Fanchu, sir. His retrieval was carried out by our Far-Eastern operations division. He is, I believe, a private student. I am not fully familiar with the details of his background but I do know that his retrieval was complicated. Several men were injured when they attempted to subdue him, which, as I’m sure you are aware, is extremely unusual.’

  Indeed it was unusual, Nero thought. Children were usually put forward for selection by their parents or guardians, who, having already expressed an interest in ‘alternative’ forms of education, would be discreetly informed about the facility and the unique opportunities it offered. Some of the parents were former pupils of H.I.V.E. themselves and some simply wanted their children to continue in the ‘family business’. The children would all have been monitored over the course of a year to see if they had the necessary gifts for a future education at H.I.V.E. Secret tests were administered or staged opportunities for villainy were set up for them, in order to see how they would respond. Should they, unbeknownst to them, pass these tests, their parents would be informed and, upon transfer of a significant sum of money to a secure Swiss bank account, they would be enrolled.

  The parents were under strict instructions that none of the new students should be informed of these future educational arrangements. This policy had been introduced after there had been several unfortunate incidents in the early years of the institution involving successful applicants who had excitedly shared news of their future at H.I.V.E. with friends, despite specific instructions to the contrary. Indeed, one particular incident of this kind had led to the school being transferred from its original location in Iceland to its current home on the island. From that point onwards the rule of strict secrecy was enforced and so the unaware students had to be retrieved discreetly by Nero’s operatives at the start of each new school year.

  At least that was what normally happened; clearly Wing Fanchu’s retrieval had been anything but discreet, which was bad for business, especially the type of business that H.I.V.E. was involved in.

  ‘What happened, exactly?’ Nero asked, deactivating the screen on the lectern.

  ‘As I understand it, sir, the retrieval team were following standard operating procedure. They had hit the boy with a sleeper as he walked alone in the gardens of his family home. One can only assume that the strength of the charge had been set incorrectly, since the boy managed to disable two of our men after he had been hit. He injured one more operative when he awoke in the ambulance on the way to the assembly point and attempted to escape. You should be aware that on this occasion it took two more sleeper shots to subdue him.’

  Nero turned to Raven, raising an eyebrow. ‘Meaning it took three hits in total to eventually subdue this boy, a total charge which should knock a child out for a week and yet already he appears fully recovered? He almost seems more suitable for the Henchman programme. Do you know if Colonel Francisco has reviewed his file?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but the Colonel said that he scored too highly in the mental aptitude tests for enrolment in the programme and he should be in the Alpha stream instead.’ Her expression hardened – like all of the staff at H.I.V.E. she disliked reporting failed operations to Nero. ‘Rest assured I intend to keep a particularly close eye on him.’

  ‘See that you do, Natalya, and make sure that Security are informed of his apparent resistance to standard pacification measures.’

  ‘Of course, Doctor. Is there anything else?’

  ‘No, you may go. Report any suspicious activity related to those two directly to me.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ And with that she slipped her mask back on and disappeared into the cavern’s shadows.

  .

  Chapter Two

  Otto looked around the room they had just entered. The walls of now familiar highly polished black rock were dotted with screens displaying maps and charts. The room was completely dominated, however, by one central feature, a single huge table. The table must have been ten metres long and was made from a dark wood. Inlaid into its centre was a silver fist and globe symbol, just like the sculpture in the entrance cavern. Around the table were two dozen large, high-backed black leather chairs, all of which, with the notable exception of the seat at the far end, were empty.

  Seated there, at the head of the table, was a woman in a long black dress and fur coat. Her appearance was as unusual as everything else that Otto had seen so far that day. She had a skeletal face, with thin, almost translucent skin that was stretched tight across her cheekbones. She wore a monocle in her left eye and was holding aloft a long, thin cigarette holder, only lowering it occasionally to tap the smouldering tip into an ashtray on the table in front of her. The most immediately striking thing about this woman though was her hair. It was quite simply enormous, like a huge curved ebony sculpture. This was a hairstyle that would require an architect, not a hairdresser. It was a monument to hairspray, vast, immobile, indestructible. She seemed amused to see them, smiling in a way that suggested she was in on a rather good joke that everyone else in the room was unaware of. As the last of the group entered the room she placed her cigarette holder in the ashtray and addressed them.

  ‘Please come in, children. Sit anywhere,’ she said, gesturing to the seats around the table. They spread out around the conference table and found themselves seats. Otto quick
ly chose a chair about halfway down the table and waited while the others found their own places. Wing settled down next to him.

  ‘So you are this year’s Alphas, are you?’ she said as the last few settled into their seats. She smiled again; the faces around the table all watched her expectantly. ‘My name is Contessa Sinistre, but I am known to everybody here as simply the Contessa, and it is my great pleasure to be the one who will introduce you to your new life at H.I.V.E. We will begin our tour today with a very short film, after which I will take some of your questions. Let us begin.’ The Contessa had an Italian accent – her voice was soothing, almost musical, and some of the group seemed to relax visibly as she spoke.

  The lights in the room dimmed and a screen whirred down from the ceiling at the opposite end of the table from the Contessa. Displayed on the screen was the same symbol depicting a fist smashing down upon the globe. The symbol faded away to be replaced with an image of the island they had just flown over with the smouldering, apparently active volcano at its centre. A voiceover began in an American accent.

  ‘Welcome to The Island, an undisclosed tropical location that plays home to H.I.V.E., the world’s most unique and prestigious educational establishment. Founded in the late 1960s by Dr Nero as a training ground for the leaders of tomorrow, the Higher Institute of Villainous Education has an illustrious history. Now in its fourth decade of operation, the Institute represents a state-ofthe-art training facility, fully equipped to better prepare YOU to rule the world of the future.’

  The image changed to a cutaway diagram of the interior structure of the island. It was immediately clear to Otto that they had only seen a fraction of the facility as a whole. This diagram, if it was accurate, showed miles of passages and caverns leading off in all directions from the entrance cavern area. This area seemed to be the central hub of the structure, which would make sense if the crater through which they’d flown in was the only way in or out. There certainly didn’t seem to be any other obvious exits displayed on the diagram. H.I.V.E. seemed to Otto to be a strangely appropriate name. The film continued.

  ‘Dr Nero’s motto has always been ‘‘It takes the best to produce the worst’’, and so he has made it his goal to assemble the finest teachers and trainers from around the world and provide them with the facilities they need to get the job done.’

  The film cut to a fast-paced stream of images showing classrooms, laboratories, firing ranges, a huge tank with several shark fins breaking the surface of the water, rows of computer workstations and finally, Otto noted with pleasure, what looked like a vast and extremely well-stocked library.

  ‘Life as a student at H.I.V.E. is full of fun and excitement, a place where you’ll make friends that will last for ever.’

  Another assortment of video clips began playing. This time they showed students, most of whom seemed to be older than Otto, engaged in a bizarre assortment of activities. They saw two boys fencing, a boy beckoning his friend to look through a microscope, two girls rock climbing together and finally one boy giving another the thumbs-up after firing what could only be described as a laser rifle at an off-screen target. Life at H.I.V.E. may have its attractions after all, Otto thought. Friends, as they say, may come and go, but high-powered laser-beam weapons were for ever.

  ‘For the next six years this facility will be your new home, and, while contact with the outside world is initially forbidden, H.I.V.E. is designed to be the perfect home away from home.’

  The screen now displayed images of luxurious living quarters, spacious garden areas and a shot from high overhead of a sparkling swimming pool in the base of a cavern where students could be seen splashing around far below. H.I.V.E. was made to look more like an expensive tropical hotel than a school.

  ‘At H.I.V.E. we aim to get the very best from each and every student. Failure is not an option in the modern world. Our friendly and professional staff are always there to motivate and assist students, helping you to strive for greater excellence.’

  Now there were clips showing guards, in their familiar orange uniforms, helping lost students find their way, happily joining in with games, advising confused-looking students with their work, and finally two guards firing flamethrowers at a large barbecue while smiling children stood around with paper plates. They didn’t look much like the guards Otto had seen up to this point – they looked more like carefully chosen actors or models who were entirely lacking the scars, missing teeth and eyepatches that had seemed to be part of the uniform for the real guards.

  ‘Life at H.I.V.E. is exciting and challenging, each day bringing fresh experiences that are sure to provide you with the perfect start to a successful lifetime of evil.’

  There was a shot of Dr Nero handing a diploma to a student and warmly shaking his hand. The camera continued to pull back, finally revealing the entire entrance cavern filled with people clapping. Then the camera seemed to fly back up through the structure, eventually hovering over the apparently deserted island once again. The voiceover returned.

  ‘H.I.V.E., the school of tomorrow, today.’

  This image slowly faded to the globe and fist logo and the lights came back up in the room.

  ‘So, children. Now you have seen a sample of what

  H.I.V.E. has to offer you, do you have any questions?’ The Contessa looked around the table.

  ‘I have a question.’ It was Wing who had chosen to first break the silence. ‘Why are we forbidden to have any contact with the outside world?’ Otto had wanted to ask the same question but had kept silent, waiting to see what the others would ask first. The Contessa beamed at Wing.

  ‘Why, my dear boy, surely you can understand the need for strict secrecy with a facility such as this. There have been some unfortunate incidents in the past that have been a direct consequence of regrettable and unnecessary security breaches. The only way we have found to avoid a repeat of such problems is to ensure that nobody can attempt to disclose the location of H.I.V.E., intentionally or otherwise.’

  ‘So we are prisoners here?’ Wing replied bluntly.

  ‘Prisoner is such a harsh word.’ The Contessa’s smile seemed to slip slightly. ‘Think of it more as being carefully protected.’ Otto wondered if they were being protected from the world or vice-versa.

  ‘What of our parents? Will they not wonder where their children have vanished to?’ Wing asked.

  ‘They are aware of your situation, if not your precise location. You have been brought here with their permission,’ the Contessa explained. Several of those around the table looked shocked at this.

  ‘Will we be allowed to speak to them?’ Wing enquired.

  ‘No, as I have already explained, no communication is allowed between students and the outside world. This includes communication with your families.’ The Contessa was clearly starting to get impatient with Wing’s persistent questioning.

  ‘So how do we know that they are really aware of our situation?’ Wing seemed determined to keep pressing the point.

  The Contessa looked Wing straight in the eye. ‘You don’t really need to know that, do you?’ she asked, the tone of her voice changing slightly and, for a second, Otto could have sworn he heard other voices whispering faintly at the edge of his hearing. Wing opened his mouth to speak, but then a confused expression spread across his face as if he had forgotten what he was going to say.

  ‘No, I do not need to know that, Contessa.’ His voice sounded distant and distracted.

  ‘Good. Anyone else?’ She looked around the table again. Otto was surprised at Wing’s sudden silence – he looked pale and slightly disorientated. Seeing that no one else appeared to be prepared to speak, Otto took the initiative.

  ‘Yes, Contessa, I have a question.’

  She turned to him and smiled. ‘What would you like to know, Mr . . .’ She paused, waiting for his name.

  ‘Malpense. Otto Malpense,’ he replied. She gestured for him to continue. ‘Are students ever permitted to leave the island?’ he asked.

/>   ‘There are field trips from time to time, and some of the older pupils are given permission to leave the island for short periods if Dr Nero considers it necessary.’ Her tone implied that this was not a welcome line of questioning.

  Otto wondered what would constitute a good reason to be given permission to leave the island.

  ‘Has anyone ever escaped from the island?’ Otto knew that he was probably pushing his luck with a question like that, but he wanted to see the Contessa’s reaction.

  ‘It’s not escaping, it’s truancy, and we take a dim view of truancy, Mr Malpense, a very dim view indeed,’ the Contessa replied sharply, visibly annoyed.

  Now we’re getting somewhere, Otto thought, sensing her irritation.

  ‘You didn’t answer my question, has anyone –’

  ‘You should be careful, Mr Malpense,’ she interrupted, cutting him off, ‘people might think you are not keen to stay with us here.’ Again, her eyes narrowed. ‘There’s nothing else you need to know, is there?’

  There was – Otto had a hundred questions he wanted to ask – but suddenly it was as if they had all vanished from his head. And there was that faint whispering again. He looked at Wing, who was wearing the faintly confused expression of someone who knew they had forgotten something and was trying very hard to remember exactly what it was.

  ‘Anyone else?’ The Contessa suddenly seemed slightly less friendly. A girl with long blonde hair on the opposite side of the table raised her hand tentatively. The Contessa nodded at her, and the girl sat up straighter in her chair.

  ‘Do we have to have awful overalls like those kids in the movie?’ She was American, and from her disapproving tone it was clear that she was not going to be happy if jumpsuits were the extent of her wardrobe for the next six years.

  ‘All students wear this uniform, yes,’ the Contessa replied. ‘There are variations to indicate year and stream, but otherwise they are identical. You will find that the opportunities for shopping for more fashionable outfits are rather limited in our current location.’