by Drew Hayes
“I guess somebody should call in that pizza. Otherwise, at this pace, we’ll all be drunk before we finish whatever this first game is.” Tori took a deep, long drink of beer, bracing herself for the night of socializing.
Emory didn’t know what any of the tech was supposed to do, even as he supervised the installation. Sure, in the general sense, he understood this gear would keep their captive from being located by most known tracking means—although nothing was ever impossible—but he didn’t fathom how setting up the few pieces of tech around the base was actually going to accomplish that. Deacon seemed confident, and all the rumors said this dealer sold working shit, so Emory tried to put his own lack of understanding out of mind. All they had to do was follow the instructions.
The focal point of the concealing equipment was a small, windowless room on the west end of the building. Since it had once been planned as a private office, there was a toilet installed inside, so that took care of their most disgusting logistical hurdle right off the bat. The walls were thick, and no one was around to hear, meaning that sound wouldn’t be an issue, and the tech would keep the capes off their backs long enough for Deacon’s plan to kick in.
What that plan entailed, exactly, Emory was still uncertain. All he knew was that they were going to snatch the woman off the street, rather than try to take her at home. The apartment was tempting; however, breaking in came with too many static challenges. On a street, things were more fluid. They could strike at the opportune moment. After that, it was just a matter of transporting her back and getting word to the capes.
Taking a step away from the crew, Emory made his way down the hall to Darius’s quarters. Just outside the door, he raised a scaly fist to knock, only to have the door open before he could make impact and reveal the serious face of Darius.
“Something up?”
“Construction is going well,” Emory reported. “Should be ready by Monday. I was just wondering if there was anything else I should be doing. To prepare.”
Darius looked him over, instantly spotting the question within the question. Being a henchman demanded a talent for talking around corners, questioning the boss’s methods without ever letting them realize it. They lived a delicate balance between the crime lords and the capes. Most of the time, being a flunky meant no one paid you much attention when there was a bigger fish to chase. Get in too deep, do something really bad, and that wouldn’t necessarily hold true. Worse, Emory was new. He didn’t even realize the true danger of what they were contemplating.
“You should remind everyone that what we are doing is intended to be pageantry, nothing more. We scare the girl, we make the capes believe she’s in danger, but we never use more force than needed for any given task. There is a tremendous difference between kidnapping a civilian to draw out the capes and injuring one.”
“The charges would be more serious.” Emory was right, technically, not that it would likely matter if he messed up.
Seeing that legendary, shadowy guild that every crook has heard some kind of rumor about drawn into the streets was a moment Darius would never forget. He’d listened to the same rumors, seen gangs vanish overnight, but he’d never really believed. He’d just followed the rules of surviving in Ridge City, which meant staying low on the capes’ radars. Now, he wasn’t sure if they were playing by the old laws or not. Seemed unlikely the guild was still watching over crime, exacting revenge on those who broke their edicts. Still, no reason to take unnecessary risks.
“The charges, and the capes themselves, would be more serious. There’s a dance to some of this, and if you stick to the steps, then you can see where it will end. Break the rhythm, and you’re in uncharted territory. We play nice, because it ensures the capes play nice.” Along with anyone else who might be watching, though Darius didn’t add that last part. It was too much to try and explain, especially to someone who hadn’t spent years hearing those whispers.
“I’ll reinforce that along the ranks. Any word on when Deacon will be back?”
“He’s meeting his connection for the last round of supplies. After that, it’s just a matter of finishing prep, and then striking. Tell the others to be ready for when he comes back,” Darius instructed.
Emory hesitated, an uncommon act for him. “Shouldn’t one of us be along on these deals? We are his bodyguards.”
To that, Darius merely shook his head. “Kid, in this world, you need to square with the fact that different metas play on different levels. You and me are near the bottom: strong and deadly, but without powers that could break mountains or change reality. Someone with access to this kind of tech isn’t using the kind of muscle you or I could stand against. Deacon didn’t bring us because he’s smart enough to realize that if shit does go wrong, we’d just be more corpses on the pile.”
In actuality, Deacon hadn’t brought his goons because the seller forbade anyone else from joining him, and this was not a connection Deacon could afford to offend. Especially not at the incredibly low prices the tech was going for. To be fair, the gentleman across the table had brought along no guards either. He sat by himself, tall and gaunt, fingers steepled together patiently while Deacon inspected the wares.
It was a waste of time. Deacon had no better idea of how this worked than he did what made Lodestar fly. Nevertheless, he put on the show, because admitting ignorance seemed an excellent way to get fleeced. Concluding the assessment, Deacon lifted a small tube with a single button on one side.
“Careful. The auto-injector has been preloaded with a cocktail of my own creation. Human, meta, alien, or elephant, that serum will take them down for at least three hours. It’s specially designed to block oversaturation and avoid an OD, so don’t worry about dosing. One press will fire the entire container. So long as you can break the skin, you can take her down quietly.”
“All reports say we’re dealing with a human, so I don’t anticipate that to be an issue.” Deacon slipped the injector back into the case, along with the other trinkets to equip their base. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”
Deacon shut the case and moved to lift it, but a hand on his sleeve stopped him. The gaunt man had leaned forward, pinning Deacon’s shirt with a single finger, his toothy smile shining in the soft light of the dangling bulb.
“There is one more thing. As your current operation has a high chance of drawing in some of those New Science Sentries, I thought I’d offer up a little something extra. Ten million dollars, or the tech of your choice, for each one of their heads you bring me. Except Agent Quantum. I doubt you’d even be capable, but nevertheless, that one has been reserved.”
It was an incredible offer, and one that Deacon had in no way been prepared for. “That is... generous. I’ll have to think about it. Killing capes is a little more ambitious than what we’d previously discussed.”
“Capes are like weeds. You want to pull them up early, before their roots burrow too deep.” Bony cheeks shifted as the toothy grin became a thin, hateful smile. “Trust me. There is nothing so troublesome as a cape once they’ve dug in.”
Chapter 18
For the first time since the aliens briefly appeared in the night sky, Donald had the day off. His team had been running patrols and taking low-danger calls from the field all week, and while it was cool to see new cities even in short, action-filled bursts, he was definitely ready for a day to relax. Under other circumstances, he might have texted Tori, but the last thing she needed at the moment was to be publicly seen with another cape. Besides, even if they weren’t working, he still had plans for the day.
Ren arrived downstairs first. After some trial and error, he’d managed to get the illusion device on his wrist fine-tuned enough to quasi-replicate something akin to how he’d looked before being transformed into the cape called Medley. His new body’s proportions were all wrong for his old face— evidently, Ren hadn’t previously been built like a walking tank—but at least he could pass as his own relative, albeit one that was way too into the gym.
This was the face they’d begun to think of as Ren’s default, the one he wore when he wanted to be recognizable.
“Team day!” Ren called, giving Donald a very careful high-five, making sure not to accidentally break any bones. Even if he looked and sounded human, the same fangs, scales, and muscles were still there, hidden under the facade, ready to be called on in a moment, if needed.
“Woo, team day!” Donald echoed right back. It had been Ren’s idea, since he was the only one of them who was used to actually being on teams, but it hadn’t taken long for the thought to snowball into something of its own entity.
“You two sound like goofballs.” The voice came from the stairwell, where Irene was finishing off the final step. Unlike Ren, her looks were constant: dark hair pulled back tight into a ponytail, piercing eyes taking in the whole room, and the barest smattering of makeup over her brown complexion. Granted, it was a change to see her outside of a costume or training sweats: fatigues, sneakers, and a shirt for some band he’d never heard of were certainly a different kind of fashion, yet it still managed to be quintessentially Irene. Comfortable, functional, and with only the barest of shits given toward how it actually looked. Were Apollo still in charge of the rookies, he’d have never let her out in public like that, even though her civilian identity wasn’t yet known.
She approached them, let out a very loud sigh, then lifted her own hand up for high-fives. “But that’s about what I expect from you dorks, anyway. Yay team day, rah rah rah, let’s go have some fun.”
It was the most enthusiasm she was going to show; that was just who Irene was. Now that Donald and Ren were used to it, they knew she was excited as well, even if she didn’t demonstrate it in the same way. More hands were slapped as they waited for their final member to appear.
True to form, Lucy arrived at the edge of being late, looking slightly as though she’d tumbled all the way there. Her black hair was a mane trailing behind her, a flush highlighting the freckles along her pale skin, and she was hopping on one leg, slipping a sneaker onto her left foot. She was the only one who’d opted for shorts, despite the lingering summer heat, and paired with the plaid button-down, Lucy looked more suited for hiking than a day on the town. It was curious to Donald how she could be something of a mess in her day-to-day life, yet prove constantly reliable in the field. At any given time, he was never quite sure how Lucy might be managing, but he’d quickly learned that Hat Trick could be counted on when the world turned into chaos.
“Team... day!” Lucy puffed out that last bit; she’d definitely jogged down to the garage to meet them on time. “Sorry, got caught up on a call. Am I late?”
“Don’t worry, madame executive, your call didn’t impact your next meeting.” Irene met Lucy with a hug, and then commenced the final round of high-fiving before they would depart. “Hey, Donald, where did we end up deciding to start, anyway?”
That choice had actually been made for them. When everyone pitched their contributions to team day, Donald had taken everything down, and then looked at what could feasibly be scheduled for a single outing. Irene’s was easy, since the park was open all day, but Lucy’s only had showings at night. Ren’s was the toughest, though thankfully, it had lined up well when they discovered one of Donald’s ideas had recently expanded their hours.
“We’re going to start by doing brunch at the downtown arcade restaurant. Reviews say the food is good, and either way, they’ll still have the huge selection of classic games,” Donald informed them.
Ren narrowed his eyes. “Any items in these classics we should be aware of?”
“Doubt it, although I am kind of curious to see what would happen if I ate a ghost-killing dot. Doesn’t matter anyway. Remember: today, I’m just Donald. After brunch, I found us a football game to watch. We’re apparently still too early for the pros, but some of the colleges are doing preseason stuff. That work for you, Ren?”
“Is one of the teams the Ridge City Ravagers?” Ren asked.
“Sorry, they weren’t playing today. We could always see if they’ve got practice—”
“No.” The word was firm, yet spoken gently. “Not ready for that. They are... were my team.”
In the earlier days, when it was just Donald and Ren, they’d have stood around awkwardly fumbling their way out of the unexpected conversational pitfall. Those days were gone, however, and they were no longer a duo. They were part of a group now, which meant that some of the members actually did know how to deal with these kinds of moments.
Lucy strode over with the sort of determination Donald more commonly associated with Hat Trick, wrapping her arms around Ren and hugging him as tightly as she could. It was comical, in a way, this comparatively small woman squeezing with all her might on the hulking figure; almost like a child hugging a statue. Until the statue tenderly hugged her back, at which point, it stopped being funny and started to make Donald realize he needed to better his interpersonal skills. Working with other metas, these kinds of situations would come up, and the awkward fumbling routine wasn’t going to cut it forever.
“Since Lucy wants a show, I’m guessing that means we do my thing third?” Good old Irene: not someone you’d want for a smiling competition, but always willing to shoulder her way through an awkward pause to get things moving again.
“Got it in one,” Donald confirmed. “After the game, we drive a bit out of town to Candoo Memorial Park. There’s a colony of meta-butterflies migrating through there, and they say it’s like watching a living rainbow fly around the sky. Weirdly, this was the hardest one to get tickets to—I had to go through official AHC channels to even get in the door.”
“Well, it’s not a video game, but the natural world does okay from time to time.” If Donald didn’t know better, he’d have thought he detected a hint of mirth in Irene’s tone. “And after that, magic?”
Their hug concluded, Lucy turned away from Ren, eyes lighting up. “Oh no way, did you really manage to get us in?” She was rocking on her heels, nakedly excited in a way that uncomfortably reminded Donald of himself discussing a new game release.
Donald nodded, earning a small squeal of joy from Lucy—the only warning she gave before she enveloped him in a hug as well. Unlike Ren, Donald was not composed of animal parts and muscle, so he could actually feel how much force she put into them. The woman loved to hug; it wasn’t shocking she’d grown good at it.
“Four tickets to the Amazing Earl.” Donald forced the words out, earning himself a reprieve as Lucy eased her embrace. “I double-checked: you know this guy is human, right? He’s not going to be doing anything you can’t.”
“It’s not the same,” Lucy protested. “I’m using real magic. He’s using technique and skill. How do I put this...? If you won a game with a cheat code, you wouldn’t say you’d beaten it, right? Same thing. I like having this power, but I still want to be good enough to do magic on my own.”
That was actually an amazingly adept analogy, Donald realized. He was impressed. They hadn’t been working together for all that long, but she’d perfectly conveyed the point using language he understood. Maybe he should ask her for lessons on communication. Since Ren was already shoving Donald into the gym regularly, he’d quickly gotten used to idea of learning from his teammates. It was something to think about—just not on their day off.
“Well, with these seats, you should definitely have a good enough view to figure out the Amazing Earl’s secrets. On that note, do we have anything else to add before we requisition a driver? I figured we’d just do meals as we saw stuff that looked good, or I could make a reservation for tonight.”
“You’ve done plenty.” Lucy laid a hand on his shoulder, far more daintily than when she’d gone for a hug. “Thanks for putting this together for us.”
“Team building counts as training,” Donald replied. “Plus, learning about the things we all love is a great way to do that team building while also having a killer day off. I was happy to help.”
Really, he was happy
to just feel like he was contributing. During the Ridge City Riots, the rest of the team had taken a serious beating protecting Cyber Geek, because he was the key to their plan. While it had shaken out okay—largely thanks to Lodestar arriving just in time—Donald could still feel the guilt over that day in his gut. How badly they’d been hurt, and how terribly things could have gone, while he’d come out virtually unscathed. Donald was determined to do better, to be better, and if this helped in even a small way, then it was effort well spent.
A large SUV pulled round, driver at the ready. Together, the team piled in, heading off into Ridge City for some well-deserved time to recover. It was fortunate timing, too, given how hectic the next week was going to be.
“You’re the new cluster leader?” Janet ran a thumb along the edge of her glass, a tell she was annoyed that Ivan still remembered quite clearly. Sitting in her parlor, the two of them were talking quietly. Juan had taken Rick and Beth out for a day at the museum. Ostensibly, their mother was helping a fellow professor with a last-minute emergency and would catch up. These sorts of talks were easier in private.
“Should I even ask what happened to Haywood?” She flexed her fingers, reaching for a cigarette that wasn’t there. If he squinted, Ivan could still remember the way Janet had looked when she smoked. Still pretty, if perhaps too serious for some tastes, but back then, there had also been a wild, chaotic energy around her. From the chopped-up hair to the half-shredded clothes, no one would have guessed that under it all hid the brain of a mathematics prodigy. In a way, that had been her version of a villain identity, but it was one she’d long ago cast aside.