by Drew Hayes
With a flourish, Xelas motioned to the gateway. “Unless you want to chew the fat with me for another ten minutes, you might want to hustle on through. I’ll be over in a few more trips, so try not to start any good fights until I get there.”
Part of Hephaestus wanted to be afraid of the idea of leaping through space and time with only circuitry guiding her destination, but she was too damned excited. Besides, they’d basically done this all through her training, thanks to the meta pair known as Tunnel Vision. This was just a different—most likely riskier—form of that.
Taking Bahamut’s hand, Hephaestus and her friend stepped forward, feeling the blue light wash over them. They emerged in a very similar room with a near-identical archway at their back. Hephaestus’s navigation system attempted to identify their new location but was unable to connect with any satellites. While it stood to reason that Doctor Mechaniacal would have this place shielded, Hephaestus still grumbled as they made their way toward the staircase leading upward. This took them to another hall, then more stairs, before they finally spotted light and heard voices from up ahead.
Following the sounds, they discovered an elevated outdoor balcony. The minor grumblings from Hephaestus died out as they stepped into the light and saw, for the first time, their actual new guild headquarters.
They were probably in a different time zone, given the sunshine streaming down. Also, so far as Hephaestus was aware, Ridge City didn’t have turquoise blue water surrounding it on all sides, or gorgeous swaths of trees running between strips of pure white sand.
An island lair. Doctor Mechaniacal hadn’t built some underground base; he’d fashioned his new headquarters in the middle of paradise. She could see a half dozen interconnected buildings stretching out below; in fact, the bulk of the party seemed to be happening near one of the larger structures. The strange thing was, Hephaestus couldn’t see anything big enough to function as the main hub they’d used the last time. Had Doctor Mechaniacal merely spread out the required area? But that would be harder to defend, and after the last base fell, protection had to be of paramount concern.
Looking down, Hephaestus noticed the path from the balcony led in multiple directions. One was back toward the gateway chamber, one headed toward the party, and several others appeared to go farther up. Turning around to look behind her, Hephaestus was thankful for the helmet hiding what had to be an expression of dumbfounded shock. Her heavy hand tapped Bahamut on the shoulder, over and over until she got a reaction.
“Okay, okay, what do you need? Sorry, I was kind of scoping... this... out.” Her words faded as she turned, following Hephaestus’s stare.
Having emerged, they could now see the structure they’d come out of, and it was not a building as they’d initially suspected. No, they were on the lowest section of a massive, dark mound that rose into the sky, casting a shadow on the nearby stretch of beach. A dozen more entrances dotted the exterior, led to by lighted and covered pathways connected to landings like the one Hephaestus and Bahamut were standing on. There was no mistaking this structure, though. It could only be one thing.
A volcano. Doctor Mechaniacal had built an island volcano lair.
Well, it certainly fit the image of a guild of criminals, though arguably, the country club did an equally good job in that regard. If nothing else, Hephaestus wasn’t going to argue with a classic. She and Bahamut headed down toward the gathering of villains, eager to see what other surprises the day had in store.
“I still think it’s too brazen. An entire island? No matter how much tech you use, we can’t keep it concealed forever. Besides, you know this will tweak Professor Quantum. He’s famously used an island base for decades.”
Ivan, not yet clad in his Pseudonym outfit, stood in Wade’s—really, Doctor Mechaniacal’s—new office, overlooking the north side of the island. This was a fight they hadn’t had leading up to the reveal, because Ivan had been left in the dark, probably to avoid the very reaction he was having now.
“As I’m trying to explain, I didn’t steal Professor Quantum’s idea,” Wade shot back, refusing to yield ground as he adjusted his collar in the mirror. He didn’t make an effort often, but when he did, Wade tried to show it. “I stole Tyranny’s idea, which was much better.”
That brought Ivan up short. There were many ways to deal with capes, and hiding behind the law was a favorite among smart crooks. It was the foundation for how the guild operated, but there were more ways to use that tactic than just theirs. Tyranny—her official title—had utilized a different method. After The Seismologist broke three major landmasses off of Australia, the smallest was considered unsalvageable. It had simply suffered too much loss of flora and fauna during the quake that tore it loose.
Until Tyranny, that was. Her technology restored the land—including insect-bots which were able to take over duties like pollination—and her offensive measures ensured that the natural predators trying to overtake the abandoned land were kept in check. She rebuilt the island by herself, then sent out a declaration to the Australian government. Tyranny would use her tech to restore the other damaged islands as well, but only if she were formally given recognized rule of the one she’d fixed. It was a simple call. They’d already written off the land as lost, and her offer would save them billions in restorative efforts.
And thus, the nation of Indroga was born. Tyranny invited anyone who wished to immigrate there with promises of stable work and housing. Meta or human, all were welcomed to the new nation. It became a trading powerhouse, producing high-end specialty goods under Tyranny’s leadership. Only then did her true plan become clear, however. As a recognized ruling entity, she had complete power over the laws of her domain, and the very first one she declared was simple: no capes. Not on her island, not above her island, not in any of the space she controlled. To be a cape on Indroga was considered an act of war, with serious geopolitical consequences—especially since Indroga was a valued trading partner to so many nations. She had to play the game of politics as a tradeoff; however, Tyranny had still managed to create an entire country free from superheroes merely by turning their own esteem for the law against them.
“You didn’t found this island,” Ivan pointed out.
“No. I bought it,” Wade agreed. “Tax, title, and license. Paid the local government a handsome sum to be officially recognized as the sole legal authority on its shores. Signed a few treaties as well; just enough so that any cape coming here uninvited technically starts about five wars. Sent a copy of all the documents to the AHC myself.”
“You told them where to find us?” After a moment’s consideration, Ivan realized Wade’s intent. “I suppose they’d figure it out soon, anyway. It’s never been the secrecy that protects our organization.”
Wade finished fiddling with his collar, having made no significant improvement. “Precisely. Not to mention that by sending the documents myself, the AHC loses any claim to ignorance. They know what they’re biting off if they come here. Won’t stop them knocking if we do something truly stupid, but they can’t come kicking in the door with some flimsy warrant this time.”
Although it still seemed like too much, Ivan trusted Wade’s judgment. He was the man helming the guild. If this was what he thought was best, then Ivan could either believe it too or try to do the job himself. That was one role Ivan never wanted to find himself even remotely near, so that meant hoping that Wade knew what he was doing.
“You should probably go change, by the way. I’ve got a Doctor Mechaniacal suit down there to give the speech in a few minutes. Wouldn’t look proper without the full council, Pseudonym.”
Wade was right. There was time for worrying when the work was done. Today, they were here for a reason. The guild had been broken by the capes. No one could deny that. Now, the rebuilding process truly began. Whether they would be weakened by the blow or grow from it depended on the individual members as much as the organization itself. But recovery started by reminding them that they were part of something bigg
er than themselves.
“I’ll be there shortly.” Ivan left the room, walking a short way down the hall to his own quarters. He didn’t plan to stay here outside of emergencies, but it was always nice to have a place to set his Pseudonym costume. That was all he wore, these days. Fornax was dead and buried, save for his brief resurrection last year—and, perhaps, in the itch Ivan kept noticing beneath his skin. The desire to fight, to test himself in combat, to do what he’d been made for. He shoved those impulses down, as he had for years. There was no room for Fornax in Ivan’s world. Not even this guild could contain him.
Instead, he cut a path for his room and the Pseudonym ensemble. Wade wasn’t one to bluff about time, so Ivan made a point to hurry. Unsure as he was about his place within it, there was virtually no force on the planet that could have kept Ivan away from the guild’s reopening ceremony.
Chapter 13
The area they were in seemed more like a town square than an assembly room. At the old guild, the apprentices had only seen formal gatherings happen in the large main hall where they’d been inducted. Apparently, the new guild was going to do things differently. Cobblestone streets wound around various buildings, the paths dotted with little outposts offering different refreshments and service and staffed by the helpful bots that kept the guild operations running smoothly. Were anyone else at the guild’s helm, there might have been concerns that they were overly reliant on artificial aids, but with Doctor Mechaniacal and Xelas as the creators, it was unlikely anyone on the planet could compromise those butler-bots.
When Hephaestus and Bahamut made their way down from the teleportation entrance, they’d spotted a half dozen familiar forms, but being in the thick of things made it harder to locate their friends. It certainly didn’t help that this was the biggest guild-related crowd they’d encountered. Apprentice inductions were a special occasion, but didn’t have quite the same draw as the opening of a new headquarters. Everyone who was still active within the guild was probably here, if for no other reason than to assure the others that they were, indeed, still on the guild’s side. Balaam’s betrayal had been stupid enough; no one wanted the organization on their heels over a misunderstanding.
Hephaestus noticed Pod Person and one of the Bytes, Meg, having frozen drinks from what seemed to be a very popular building; however, a crowd cut between them before she could call a greeting. A pair of men who were nearly identical themselves and dressed in matching costumes almost bumped into Bahamut; both spun away with unexpected grace in the moment before collision, the slightly taller one giving a nod of apology. Hephaestus spotted Arachno Bro, a woman in an impossibly elaborate evening gown, and a creature with four wings and glowing eyes atop another building, all passing around a bottle of what looked to be incredibly expensive alcohol.
At last, a large hand clapped down on both Hephaestus and Bahamut’s shoulders. They turned to find Thuggernaut staring down at them with a calm grin, along with a much less soothing smirk on his smaller accomplice’s face.
“About time you two showed up. Can you believe this shit? Doctor Mechaniacal has always been a bit grandiose, but this... this is a league all its own.” The unassuming man speaking went by the villainous moniker: Johnny Three Dicks. While neither Hephaestus nor Tori knew exactly what sort of meta-human he was, they knew enough about the guild itself to be sure he was dangerous, despite the gregarious, sometimes grating, personality. “If he’d put the new housing on the beach instead of inside the volcano, I might just stay here forever.”
“A fact that explains why he didn’t put the housing on the beachfront,” Thuggernaut pointed out. “Although, there are a few structures near one end of the island. My guess is those will be facilities for high-earners, just like the old executive lounges.” He looked away from Johnny, back to Bahamut. “Good to see you again. I wasn’t sure you’d come for this.”
There was no ripple of shock from those around them. Bahamut hadn’t been especially enthusiastic about the crime aspect of their job, and it was common knowledge. Like many before her, she’d just wanted control of her abilities, which she’d gained largely thanks to Thuggernaut and the guild’s training. With that done, she was free to become one of the guild’s absentee members, making a real go of it in honest society. Those members didn’t tend to show up to meetings, though this event was certainly going to be an exception to that rule for many.
“After seeing our last one torn down, there was no way I’d miss the reopening. Not to mention the chance to visit with friends.” Bahamut shook her former mentor’s hand.
They’d just released their grips when the sky went black. Quite literally. The sun above them died without warning, quickly replaced by a fat, shining moon and countless shining stars. A hologram of some sort, obviously, although Hephaestus wasn’t entirely sure if the sky was false, or if it had been the sunshine that was a lie. Without knowing their location, she couldn’t pin down a time zone, and it was starting to look like that was intentional. This guild headquarters’ location would be a secret kept even from its own members—or at least the lower-ranking ones. She assumed Ivan probably knew, if he’d cared enough to bother asking.
All around, the island started to glow as countless gentle lights sparked on. They filled the streets, winding back up the path to the volcano lair and continuing onward, bright red glows appearing on the boiling mountain to their rear. The whole island looked like a sea of light, and in any other context, Hephaestus would have taken to the sky for a bird’s-eye view. Tonight, she stayed rooted. This wasn’t the time to go gallivanting off. Someone wanted their attention, and there was only one real candidate who would take to using these methods.
They came from nowhere, seeming to slip out from behind buildings where they couldn’t have been hiding. Seven figures, all distinctive, winding their way to the center of the cobblestone square, where Hephaestus noticed the ground was beginning to rise. One by one they came, costumed and somber, climbing the still-forming stairs onto the rising platform.
Morgana was first. Normally a kind-eyed woman with raven-black hair, when she was dressed in her full apparel as Morgana Le Faye, the Blood Witch, it was easy to see why small armies had surrendered rather than face her wrath. Merely witnessing her carnage on a battlefield was enough to remind any outsider why the guild was not to be trifled with. Born with the power to manipulate the blood of all but the most powerful beings, Morgana’s department looked after all of those who had their abilities at birth.
Not far behind her was the unassuming young woman known as Stasis. Hephaestus didn’t know much about her, only that she had a history with Nexus and appeared to be truly invulnerable. Plenty of meta-humans were tougher than normal; however, Stasis was something else. It was like attacks never even reached her. Given that she was the council member who oversaw those that had been turned into meta-humans by external forces—such as lab accidents—Hephaestus had managed to put a rough guess about her origins together.
Arcanicus was next, taking the stairs noticeably more slowly than the previous councilors. In his defense, he was one of the few older members of the guild who actually wore his age, and he was adorned in robes that required careful lifting. While he was a pleasant fellow who’d pitched in with their training, Hephaestus couldn’t help thinking that he’d have to find a replacement for his council seat soon. Arcanicus oversaw the guild members who’d gained abilities through magic, because his predecessor, Balaam, had led an insurrection against the entire guild. He was a substitute, and an effective one, but it was clearly a temporary fix.
Gork came next. She was impossible to miss. Huge, with gray, rock-like skin, Gork was a member of a subterranean race, an explorer who’d had become trapped on the surface. She was the quietest of the council, and as consequence, her words carried more weight when finally spoken. As the member who looked over all naturally occurring non-human and alien members, Gork took her role seriously. Even if she spoke rarely, one could be sure Gork was always paying attention,
watching closely, just in case.
Only a few steps from Gork was her closest friend, Xelas. The two made an odd pairing, yet apparently, it worked. They’d been serving on the council together for some time. Xelas represented all artificially created beings, be they mechanical or biological. She was also blowing kisses to the silent crowd, drumming up a few nervous titters and chuckles.
Those died out when Pseudonym stepped onto the platform. The costume was aggressively simple, just like the name, but no amount of bland would make those watching forget the power of the man before them. Whatever name Ivan used, he was a force of nature, raw destruction held in check only by a single man’s relentless self-control. He had to exert such restraint; there was no other choice. The smallest of slips could have serious consequences, as Ivan himself had proven earlier that week. Pseudonym walked calmly to the middle of the stage, taking his position.
It was no coincidence that Pseudonym was next-to-last. He was there to cool the crowd, to silence them for the final arrival. This member didn’t climb the stairs. Instead, he soared up from the ground, landing on the platform in a swift flash of thrusters. There was no mistaking this one. The councilor who represented all those who gained their abilities through the wielding of technology: one of the guild’s original founders, and its current leader.
Doctor Mechaniacal had arrived.
“I confess, when our guild first fell, I was worried.” His voice came from all around them. Despite seeming like an outdoor square, it was becoming more and more apparent that this whole area was designed specifically for guild gatherings, to the point where speakers had apparently been woven into the streets and buildings.
While Pseudonym’s appearance had forced the crowd to go silent, Doctor Mechaniacal’s words caused them to grow still. No one fidgeted or moved. All focus, all attention, belonged to the head of their guild. And he knew it.