by Drew Hayes
After briefly considering the words, Tori popped her door open. “I get it, and I get that these contacts are probably not the kind you bring a new person around. One question, though: how do you know they won’t make you take Haywood’s place?”
“Because they know my full history, and I can’t imagine anyone wants Fornax watching over a herd of children.”
“Too bad. If we got a picture of you in the cluster leader uniform, I bet I could make a mint selling those around the guild.”
“It’s the digital age. The Bytes would just scan one and put it on a shared server,” Ivan pointed out.
Tori climbed out of the car before poking her head back in. “Spoilsport. Good luck with your contacts. You know if you need me...”
“I know. Thank you.” With that, Ivan drove off into the night.
Part of Tori was sorely tempted to follow him and see about these mysterious contacts, except she’d just received a very good reminder that Ivan was not to be tested on some matters. His kids were one of them; the code was another. Besides, after the drive home, she was feeling peckish, and by the time food arrived, Tori would be ravenous.
Whatever he was up to, Ivan could handle himself. Hell, so far as Tori knew, there was only one person in the world who could beat Ivan in a real fight, and what were the odds he’d run into her?
“Yeah, I got the call. Checking on it now.” Dapper Doll clomped along through the rain, cursing her bad fortune to get patrols in a city under a storm cloud. She was ready to get out of Norwalk and back to the comforts of Ridge City—specifically, her dry room and clothes at the AHC. It wasn’t that she minded getting wet for the job—had there been a civilian in need, Dapper Doll would have been racing to their aid. For a simple reconnaissance job involving someone spotting suspicious activity, however, the gusto was harder to conjure.
Stepping down a side street, toward what should have been a building’s rear, filled with dumpsters and perhaps a few people sneaking smokes, Dapper Doll caught sight of movement. Music pulled at her ears, high-pitched and cloying. She slipped closer, thoughts of dryness abandoned. Clangs rose as she moved beneath a section of roof, blocking her momentarily from the rain.
Turning a corner, Dapper Doll couldn’t believe what she saw. Burgers, pizza, fried chicken, hot dogs, cake—an entire smorgasbord of food presented on an immaculately decorated table. Only the food wasn’t lying there, waiting to be eaten. Instead, it was moving around, singing, dancing, and generally partying like there was no tomorrow. Now that she was near, Dapper Doll could see the others watching, entranced: nearly a dozen civilians who must have stumbled upon the show. For a moment, she feared a trap, before noticing the giant banner that hung in the middle of the scene. Emblazoned upon it were three simple words:
“Expect the Unexpected.”
Swallowing hard, Dapper Doll tapped her communicator to radio the office. The higher-ups were definitely going to want to know that Captain Bullshit was active again.
Beverly paused outside the apartment to wipe off her shoes, even though it hadn’t rained all day. There had been a massive, stinky puddle to walk through in front of the building, along with a gaggle of smelly, soaked photographers who glared daggers at everyone who strolled inside. They were looking for someone, and having casually glanced at a TV in the last ten hours meant that Beverly knew exactly who. The assholes could wait all night; she’d already gotten a text from Tori that she was crashing at Ivan’s place.
Were anyone else she knew staying at the house of an older gentleman they worked for, it would have thrown up a plethora of red flags. Tori and Ivan, thankfully, were a rare exception to the rule. They liked and respected one another, but even ten minutes around the pair made it clear how deeply platonic their relationship was. Beverly was glad for that, especially when Tori needed a place to crash while the guild was down. After this weekend, they’d both have a spot to lay low when the occasion demanded.
Walking into the apartment, Beverly found Chloe standing by the brick wall at the living room’s far end, looking out on to the street and the photographers below. “Am I off base in guessing you’re the reason all those paparazzi are wet and grumpy?”
“Debatable,” Chloe replied. “I just happened to forcefully mention that ‘Karma is a bitch’ near them. I would argue that after that, anything negative that happened afterward is a consequence of their own choices… including a truck hauling used septic water springing a sudden and brief leak just as it drove past. I also think four of them have stubbed their toes. Guess Karma and I have the same opinion of their profession.”
Being part of a guild filled with famous villains, Beverly often marveled at the raw power of her colleagues. Yet Chloe, of all people, worried her even more at times. That ability of hers was easy to underestimate and could have ridiculously potent effects. If it had to end up in anyone’s hands, maybe it was best it had gone to neither a cape nor a villain, but to someone who only used the gift casually. And on deserving victims, in this case.
“Isn’t septic water...?”
“Yeah, the front stoop needs a serious washing, and you might want to give a scrubbing to any shoes you walked through it with,” Chloe confirmed.
“Glad I wiped my feet.” Beverly hunkered down and popped her shoes off, wrapping them in a paper towel to be dealt with once she’d had a moment to relax. “You got Tori’s message, I assume?”
Chloe walked over from the window, turning on the oven and yanking a container from the fridge. “Caught up in a new team’s debut, became a media curiosity, laying low until it blows over. Means there’s one less for dinner.”
“That lucky bum is probably getting home cooking. According to Thu… someone I know, the person she’s staying with is pretty good in a kitchen.”
The statement earned Beverly a look of worried surprise. When they’d moved in with Chloe, she and Tori had been honest about their affiliation to the Guild of Villainous Reformation. It only seemed right, given that living with them exposed her to certain risks, plus Beverly had spilled most of the beans during the “Ridge City Riots” (as most media outlets had dubbed Balaam’s attempted uprising.) Outside of that detail, though, Chloe knew very little of their world. She didn’t ask, they didn’t offer, and the balance had been holding well, so far.
“Sorry, there’s no reason I should find that weird. Everyone eats, so some criminals probably cook well. Just not what I picture when I imagine famous villains, you know? Except for Doctor Mechaniacal, maybe. He always did remind me of a kitchen gadget gone awry.”
Beverly laughed, but said nothing. Neither she nor Tori had told Chloe who’d been their mentors when joining the guild. It wasn’t necessarily a secret, just a topic both took care not to broach accidentally. If Chloe asked, Beverly would answer, for what little that was worth. Her mentor, a surprisingly cultured giant called Thuggernaut, was mostly known as an enforcer who’d gotten on the law’s wrong side—nothing overly shocking. When Chloe found out she was living with Fornax’s apprentice, on the other hand, it might require a longer talk.
That was Tori’s battle, and it could wait for another night. Beverly had her own shit to deal with. But she could also use some rest and entertainment after a long day’s work. “Hey, Chloe, doesn’t the cycling club usually come up the road not too long from now?”
“That they do,” Chloe confirmed.
“I wonder if any of them will accidentally end up on the sidewalk, running over the paparazzi’s feet?” Pouring herself a tall glass of wine, Beverly walked over to the window and took a spot opposite from where Chloe had been standing, gazing out on the street below.
As it turned out, no cyclists rode on the sidewalk, but one kicked up a spray of stray gravel that got into the eyes of three photographers and broke two cameras. It wasn’t until they’d been rubbing their faces for several minutes that someone appeared to remember they were covered in septic water, which led to a mass panic as the three began running around in a tizzy about the im
pending pink eye.
No doubt about it, Chloe’s power was scary as hell.
Things were getting interesting again. The lulls were unavoidable—without a valley, was there such a thing as a peak? Thankfully, just as inevitable was the eventual beginning of something new. So many times he had watched stories like this one, yet they were not quite the same. A shift in details, a difference of characters, all while the bones persisted: new team arrives in town, kicks up a fuss, encounters a stranger that is more than she appears to be.
It wasn’t always Tori and Tachyonic. They weren’t even always called the New Science Sentries. Sometimes, the debut went bad. Gunfire, people getting hurt, blood everywhere… a lack of real-world experience showing itself in the worst possible way. Those universes were rare, though. Professor Quantum had raised a powerful team, if nothing else. That part almost never changed.
To Nexus, the only things even close to being as interesting as the Singulars—beings who existed in only a single iteration of the multiverse—were those he considered to be Constants. These were fascinating in how little they varied across the infinite sea of possibilities. Lodestar was often a different person—such was the nature of that gift—yet whoever wore the power unfailingly upheld the same standard. That had confused Nexus for a time, until he unraveled the secret of her abilities.
Far more interesting were ones like Professor Quantum. He virtually never changed. In any universe where he existed, he was almost always the same: brilliant, prophetic, and dangerous. Even better, by this point there was usually a dash of desperation mixed in. Alone, that would have made Professor Quantum a boring target to watch, each iteration being nearly identical. However, although every Professor Quantum was often the same, the worlds they lived in varied tremendously, and that was what made him interesting.
The new team’s composition this time was a surprise—Presto often didn’t make the cut. This one was either talented or determined. Nexus could hardly wait to see which it would be as he sat on the roof-deck of Tori’s building, enjoying the late-summer evening heat. Already, the gears were turning, old grudges rising. It was shaping up to be one hell of a show this time around. And it would be, no matter what.
Things were going to be interesting soon, even if Nexus had to make them interesting.
Chapter 7
“To be clear, your story is that you came by my home to tell me one of the Starscout cluster leaders was keeping a meta-human child, your daughter, out of her established group, and that said leader was also involved in a terrible car accident that will remove him from the role. The two things are, I’m supposed to believe, an unrelated coincidence. Good god, Ivan, you couldn’t have brought this in when I was putting Penelope to bed? She loves a good piece of fiction.”
The kitchen table was tense as Helen and Ivan both nursed their cups of coffee. As far as these sorts of talks went, it hadn’t been a terrible one. She’d heard him out and hadn’t interrupted, even during the section they both knew to be utter falsehood. Once the story was over, though, Helen had gotten a serious look in her eyes. She’d left the room briefly, made a few calls, and returned with a sense of purpose. Ivan had no idea what to expect when she put on that expression, only that she’d be the one to decide the next step.
“I’ll ask out of obligation, is there any chance that I could find evidence to prove this wasn’t just a car accident?”
“I can’t imagine why you would. Ask the man himself. He’ll tell you he got distracted on the road and spun out, eventually slamming into a tree. Not only is there a lack of evidence, there is, technically speaking, no crime to investigate.”
Wordlessly, Helen finished her coffee, walked to the counter, poured a fresh cup, and then proceeded to dump in more fake sugars than Ivan could fathom before returning to her seat. Her holographic-generating glasses were perched on the side of the table, meaning that she looked her physical age at the moment. Somehow, watching what should be a nineteen year old with such a world-weary gaze always unnerved him slightly.
Ivan sat patiently as she worked, wondering what would come next. This was new ground for them. Part of her had to know these things happened, yet normally, Ivan kept it miles from her radar. Tonight was different; he’d messed with something of hers.
“Ivan, do you know the origins of the Starscouts?” Helen spoke after three test sips from her new cup of coffee.
“I recall the general shape of the tale,” Ivan replied. “A pair of siblings accidentally kicked up a fuss when one wanted to join the Junior League of Heroes, Professor Quantum’s old child-meta indoctrination ring, and the other was barred entry for being human. When they switched over, both attempting to join the Kid Adventurers, they found out that that organization didn’t allow metas. In the media firestorm that followed, a new company wanted to start something to capitalize on the opportunity, but they were competing with established institutions, so they needed a big draw. The sort of face no one could ignore. They found her, but she demanded more than just certain humans and metas be allowed in. Lodestar watches over everyone, so every child was welcome in her organization. That was the deal if they wanted to use her as a spokeswoman.”
Another sip from the cup. “This jerk isn’t the first to try to break my promise. There are systems in place for that sort of thing. Whatever insult he hurled to get under your skin, you would have won out in the end. But from what I’m hearing, he got the absolute hell beaten out of him. These aren’t the old days, Ivan. You can’t go around punching everyone who annoys or—”
“He called my daughter an abomination. You want to throw me back into Rookstone, go right ahead. We both know you can do it. But the Earth will rot and the sun will die before I ever apologize for what I did tonight.”
The serious veneer slipped slightly, revealing a shocked expression on Helen’s face. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Thought better of me?” Ivan asked.
“Worse. I assumed if he’d crossed a line like that, you’d have killed him outright.” Helen leaned back in her chair, hands absentmindedly drumming on the cup. “For goodness’ sake, Ivan, you always keep things moving, I’ll give you that. What am I supposed to do with this? We both know you broke the law, but I’ve got no provable victim, not even a crime to report. Capes aren’t judge or jury outside of dire emergencies, and without proof, I’d just be wasting time and resources trying to pin you for this.”
He didn’t have an easy answer to give. This was the trouble with having friends on the other side. Sooner or later, it made things complicated. Although in the case of he and Helen, it had definitely been sooner. “It is a dilemma. If I can offer something to help make it right, I will.”
Helen hopped off her chair again, this time going to a different section of the kitchen and returning with a bottle of dark rum. She poured a shot into her remaining coffee, then offered it to Ivan, who also accepted. Neither of them could get drunk off such a paltry offering; it was the act of drinking together that held significance.
“Here’s the situation as I see it. You hurt a civilian tonight. Maybe one who had it coming, but still, you hurt a mundane. It’s one thing when criminals fight one another—not even Lodestar can protect people from their own choices. Civilians are different; you of all people know that. You can’t skate on this, Ivan. That said, you handled it the best way I could have hoped for, coming right over and reading me in on the situation, even being honest when pushed. It’s possible, if I spent a tremendous amount of resources that would be better used elsewhere, that I might be able to get the courts to prosecute you for assault. Not a great option. So instead, we’ll do this one off the books. No cops, no jail. You’re serving my sentence. Can you handle that?”
Some might have jumped at the opportunity. Not Ivan. He stared into his coffee-cocktail, pondering the offer for a full minute before finally offering a reply. “I won’t betray anyone who has put their trust in me. If the penance requires me to turn on the guild or other allies, then I
’m afraid I must decline.”
It was Helen’s turn to think, though she didn’t need as long. “I’m almost completely certain my idea won’t cause you do that; however, if it comes up, we can agree to deal with it on a case-by-case basis.”
With resigned determination, Ivan nodded. “Then I will abide by the punishment you decide.”
“Good.” Helen pulled out her phone and began to text. “I’m sending over some details. You’ll need to go pick up a uniform before next week, plus review the information and resource packet long before the meeting. I don’t care how dorky the uniform looks; you’re wearing it.”
The whiplash was so severe that not even Ivan’s augmented body could bear it. His head swam as talk shifted from punishment to doing some sort of errand. It was only when Ivan looked at the text Helen sent that the pieces fell into place.
“You can’t be serious. The other parents would throw a fit if they knew.”
“They will know. They’ll know that Ivan Gerhardt stepped in to take over as cluster leader after a supposedly unrelated car accident sidelined the current one. And since they all think of Ivan as a pillar of the community and a loving parent—a view I share—they’ll have no objections to you filling the role.” Helen was grinning a little now, making a half-effort to hide the smile behind her coffee cup. “Besides, you don’t have to do it alone. Every Starscout cluster has a male and female leader, so you’ll get someone at your side to help.”
Ivan took a heftier drink, wishing he’d put more rum in the coffee. “I can only imagine what poor soul will be trapped with me as a partner.”