by Drew Hayes
Now that Professor Quantum knew there was a game afoot, he intended to crush everyone who dared challenge him.
“What’d they tell you?” Chloe asked, red-eyed on the edge of the sofa.
“She’s safe and sound, just like the reports are saying.” Beverly sounded deeply relieved, and that was with some effort to keep her tone neutral. Thuggernaut’s rundown was quick and concise, but hit all the points he knew she’d be worried about. After wrapping up the rescue, they’d been taken home immediately. With capes buzzing about, any time in mask was dangerous. Since then, she’d just been waiting with Chloe to find out how the rest of Tori’s morning went.
“Lodestar scooped her up, she did a few hours at the AHC making a report, and now, she’s resting somewhere safe. My contact wasn’t sure when she’d be back, probably a day or so, but physically, Tori came through fine. We’ll have to see how hard it hit her upstairs.”
“I just feel so bad. First, she ends up all over the news for being saved by Tachyonic, then this. Tori hates attention, and now, she’d going to get it nonstop.” From her side, Chloe pulled out a spiral notebook with a pen jammed in the top. She flipped through several of the pages, idly chewing on the pen’s cap as she mulled them over. “I keep thinking there’s something I can do. Unfortunately, the closest I’ve gotten is ‘Better seen than heard,’ which is both gross and the opposite of what Tori needs.”
While Beverly wasn’t sure this effort would bear fruit, she also couldn’t dispute that Tori was going to loathe the limelight. Worse, this wasn’t just some quick news story anymore. There hadn’t been a kidnapping like this in years upon years; adding in her existing fame momentum and the fact that the story appeared to end in a Nexus slaughter would only make the story more salacious. This might no longer be a thing they could simply wait out.
But that was getting far too ahead of herself. First, they needed to help Tori the person, then they could worry about her elevated profile.
“We’ll figure something out. In the meantime, I’m going to make a grocery store run. At the very least, we can have her favorite beers and snacks when she gets home.”
Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Great idea! If you don’t mind getting ingredients, I can make a nice comforting soup.”
Mentally flashing back to Chloe’s most recent stovetop culinary attempt that wasn’t grilled cheese, Beverly could still taste the half-cinders passing as pork chops. Mercifully, the logistics of their situation made for an easy out. “That’s a lovely idea, but why don’t we wait until we know when Tori will be home? No sense in buying ingredients only for them to go bad.”
She hustled out the door before the conversation could go any longer, in such a hurry that Beverly nearly crashed into the sizable form of Austin, who’d clearly been walking down to their apartment. Reflexes saved her from a full collision, bringing her up a few inches short of his chest, causing a quick backpedal.
“Sorry about that. Should watch where I’m going.”
“Please no, it’s my fault.” Austin looked nervous. He was fidgeting in place, actively avoiding looking into her eyes for too long. “I... I didn’t even have a good reason for coming over. I just wanted to apologize in person, if she’s ready to see anyone. We promised protection, and then, only a few days later, completely failed to keep Tori safe. I don’t expect her to forgive us, especially since it’s our fault she got targeted in the first place, but she deserves an apology all the same.”
It took Beverly a few seconds of mental gymnastics to put everything together. Right; Austin would have heard from the AHC that Tori was released. Since this was her home, he’d expect her to be here, resting and recovering. It was tempting to sell that delusion, pretend that she was being a shut-in, which wasn’t much of a stretch for Tori, anyway. Too complicated, she quickly realized. Better to stick close to the truth, if she had to deviate at all.
“I respect that sentiment, but Tori isn’t here. After everything that happened, she’s staying with her uncle. Family support during trying times and all. She’ll be back when she’s ready.”
“When that time comes, may I impose on you to let her know I’d like to talk?” Austin’s eyes, still largely avoiding Beverly’s, seemed to be sinking floorward the more they talked. “Though I understand if Tori has no desire to see any of us again, and I will respect the choice. My duty to apologize is not her obligation to hear it.”
For a huge guy with legs like phone poles, Austin looked curiously unstable. His first few weeks in Ridge City didn’t seem to be going to plan, for sure. Messing up their debut, getting put on protection duty, then fucking that one up on a national-story level—much as Beverly held a grudge against the AHC and Professor Quantum in particular, it was hard to pile all of that onto the nervous guy before her. Plus, she needed to lay a little groundwork for Tori. Otherwise, these four would be up her ass the minute she got home.
“Look, this is my opinion and should not be construed to reflect how Tori will feel, but I don’t think the kidnapping is entirely on your team. No one expected some gang to try a street snatching. As far as you knew, Tori was going to work. Following her would have been weird, bordering on harassment. When it happened, did you do everything you could to get her back?”
“Sadly, yes, and what we could do was nothing.” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the nerves vanished. She saw the face of a leader angry at his own limitations, forced to the sidelines while others did the work. Sometimes, her parents wore that expression when talking about their harder missions, the darkest tales they’d share with their kids. Wanting to help, and lacking the power to do something was hard. Being on the sidelines while people they cared about were in the fight was magnitudes worse, apparently. “We spent our night out on the streets, keeping the peace. Useful work to be sure, just not helpful to Tori.”
Beverly checked her watch. After a night spent out as Bahamut, hanging around a Detroit warehouse and helping Pseudonym kill Nexus’s pets, she should be exhausted; however, the thrill of combat still had her blood pumping. It would be a little while before she could sleep. May as well put it to good use. The more she could do to ease Austin’s guilt, the less he’d try to bother Tori with it. After the rescue, Beverly had been feeling somewhat useless herself; this was finally one way she could help.
“All night fighting, huh? With a body like that, disregarding any meta-influence, I’m guessing that means you’re famished. Have you tried the Mono-Mart’s counter-service yet? They make a mean breakfast burrito, and I’m heading over there on a grocery run, anyway. You can tag along, if you like.”
Just like that, the nerves were back. For a moment, she thought he might spit out gibberish; his tongue seemed uncertain of its intended use as his jaw twitched within his mouth. Beverly had other shit to do with her day, so she threw him an excuse to move things along.
“After all, my roommate was just kidnapped. Might not be safe to walk out there so early alone.” Even without her powers, Beverly had mace, a taser, and a lifetime in a family with a strong Marine service history. There was no mugger on this block she couldn’t handle, but Austin didn’t know any of that yet. If it got him out his head and moving, that was all that mattered for now.
It not only worked, it worked so well that Beverly was caught off guard. The shift was immediate, like someone had thrown a switch. His nerves vanished, spine straightened, and his gaze became direct. Whatever personal failings Austin had, they weren’t shared by Agent Quantum. Once upon a time, she’d have found it strange. That was before the guild; before she understood the roles people played, and the way they could shift between them.
“You’re absolutely right. It would be my honor and pleasure to escort you on your errands.”
“Dial it back a notch, big boy.” Beverly patted him on the shoulder, noting how solid it was. “We’re just going on errands and breakfast. Why don’t you tell me about your fake job on the way?”
Though he didn’t slip back into his less confident p
osture, this question did cause his eyebrows to knit in confusion. “My fake job?”
“Yeah, your cover story. What you tell people when they ask you what you do, since you obviously can’t tell them the truth.” She looked at Austin, who stared right back at her, until realization finally dawned. “You don’t have a cover story?”
“In the initial plan, we weren’t going to be interacting with normal people as ourselves very often,” Austin admitted. “It’s possible we were undertrained for this type of scenario.”
That was putting it shockingly light. They were going to blow their identities again any day now, and the next time, it might not be to a room of people with incentives to keep quiet. Worse, if people realized Tori was living a few doors down from the New Science Sentries, context be damned, she would get a fresh dose of fame. Possibly end up linked to them forever in the public’s eye.
Which meant that if Beverly wanted to protect her friend, she had to help a team of capes blend in. Or find a new apartment. Given their specific needs and the current Ridge City real estate market, aiding Austin seemed like the easier task, even if she’d have preferred the latter.
“Okay, new idea. We figure out some fake jobs for you all while getting breakfast,” Beverly declared. “Which you’re paying for. I don’t do consultations for free.”
Chapter 36
Her new room had a window. That would have been impossible at the old base where they’d been tucked away in the middle of the city, hiding themselves in plain sight. One of the upshots to moving the guild’s operation out of Ridge City was the change of limitations, not to mention the scenery. Volcanic lair or not, Tori had to appreciate the amazing view of the island and the glittering ocean that stretched beyond it.
The sun sat low on the horizon; she’d been asleep for most of the day. Looking down, Tori realized with a small trickle of embarrassment that she was still wearing the AHC t-shirt Lodestar had provided.
It was a passing thought that floated away as her eyes went back to the window. Looking at the ocean was pleasant, soothing—a vast improvement over the images replaying in her mind. Being chased by the spitting monsters was scary, getting kidnapped had filled her with rage, but it was Deacon that kept popping up the most. She could still feel the flames of her arm torching his throat as it slid down, still see the horrified pain as the fire caught. There was no regret in Tori—she’d done what she had to. Yet the images kept coming. Killing Rust Tooth hadn’t hit her nearly this hard, though perhaps it was because it was a mere blip in a day of mad chaos.
Even that recurring memory was better than the choice Tori could feel resting on her shoulders. What next? When she left this lair, she’d be facing serious decisions. Her life had changed, and not in the fifteen-minutes-of-fame way. This was too big; it wouldn’t flare out overnight. In a few years, sure, she might be able to get back to some manner of normalcy, but her face and name being all over the news would stick in people’s minds, especially given the context.
Staring out at the lapping waves, she considered staying here. The facilities were all top-tier, she’d never have to hide her face or her true identity, and everything she needed was on this island. Tori frowned, a sight she was able to catch in the window’s slight reflection. This place might have everything Hephaestus needed, but not Tori. She had plans and ambitions beyond the guild, the kind she’d have to be in the real world to execute. Besides, Beverly and Chloe were counting on her to help cover rent. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to that life quite yet.
She contemplated a shower and a change, but a loud rumble from her stomach skewed priorities. Whatever waited down the line, Tori at least knew her next move today. Leaving her room, Tori realized a moment after the door closed that she still hadn’t change t-shirts; however, her capacity for caring had already maxed out. It wasn’t worth the time to go back.
The halls were largely empty as she made her way through, arriving at the room number Ivan had left for her. It opened to reveal a sizable area, probably meant to be a conference room, though she doubted there was often so much of a spread. Sandwiches, stew, seared fish, and a few dishes Tori didn’t recognize—all of it fresh and steaming. She dove right in, not even caring that the room was otherwise empty. If anyone in the guild wanted her dead, they’d pick a more direct method than poison.
After a minute or so of eating, Tori saw Ivan enter. Truly Ivan, no Pseudonym mask, and certainly no Fornax one. Just the unassuming middle manager who was easy to overlook. How was he so good at keeping a low profile, especially considering what Fornax was like? Maybe it was just a matter of practice; he’d been at this much longer than her.
“I hope you like the food. Made it earlier today, and had Dabbler throw on a seal to keep it fresh until you arrived.”
“Guess the room also sent an alert.” Tori managed to get down her mouthful of turkey leg before speaking, but it was a photo finish. “Or were you hanging out in a hallway, waiting?”
Ivan said nothing at first. He headed over to the drink area and fixed himself a simple cocktail of vodka mixed with ginger ale. Once that was prepared, he pulled out a beer and set it down next to Tori, who popped the cap immediately. “How are you feeling?”
The food-shoveling paused momentarily. Tori could feel the memories trying to rise up, perhaps bringing her meal with it, and she halted them through sheer force of will. This was not the time to lose herself. “Like, I really don’t want to talk about it. Not right now, at least. I think I need some time to get my head around everything.”
“After what you’ve been through, that is a completely reasonable sentiment,” Ivan said. “If you’d like to push our talk back and stick to less serious topics, that is fine as well.”
“No.” The word came out a tad too fast and strong. Tori tried again, taking more care. “No. I could use something else to think about. Different place to put my mind. Plus, I’ve been waiting months for this; no take-backs now.”
Despite Ivan’s neutral expression, he was actually quite conflicted. Tori was clearly spinning; he’d seen it happen to younger metas more than enough times to recognize the signs. He wasn’t entirely sure this story would make things better. It wasn’t one he cared to share often, and never in circumstances like these. Ultimately, upholding his word seemed to be the best choice, though he planned to keep an eye on how Tori was coping at various points in the tale.
“The first thing you have to understand is that you and I grew up in different worlds,” Ivan began. “I don’t mean that I’m from another dimension or universe—I’m from this planet, this realm, same as you. But it wasn’t always like this.”
His expression hardened, memories flashing already. “You live in a world with a backstop. A ceiling. A limit on how bad things can get, called the Champions’ Congress. Professor Quantum has one of the keenest, hungriest minds, paired with cutting-edge meta-human knowledge and potent abilities. Quorum has over a thousand people working in perfect unison in that head of his, seeing every situation from more angles than entire organizations could hope to. And of course, there’s Lodestar. The strongest meta. The true superhero. Together, they represent a functionally unstoppable force. Look at your own kidnapping; the people who took you had cloaking equipment beyond what most world governments could fashion, and it wouldn’t have even bought them a full day before the AHC arrived. Against any threat, they have the mind of Professor Quantum, the insight of Quorum, and the power of Lodestar. Every villain in this world, every criminal and thug, every goon and crook, understands that if they make too much trouble, that’s what is waiting for them. The sky is the limit, because to rise that high means catching their attention.”
“I once asked some of the council members who would win in a fight: us versus the AHC. They said it would be a pretty even match,” Tori interrupted. She didn’t necessarily doubt Ivan, but conflicting data was something that itched in her brain.
“You didn’t ask me.” Ivan paused, mentally doing some math. “But u
nless you somehow stole some councilor time at our relaunch, you must have asked that during your apprenticeship. Before Lodestar was back.”
Part of Tori wanted to rebel at that idea, that one cape could turn the tides so greatly as to change the answer entirely. Except, when she thought back to Ivan’s breakdown, to when he returned to being Fornax, the way he’d batted around the AHC’s top capes like toys, Tori could understand how a truly powerful meta might swing things in a fight. Especially one that could lead on the front lines, inspiring her allies to battle.
“My point is, this world has limits. No fleet of Destruco-Blimps will try to take over Utah, because the AHC will put them down. No random genetic monster can wipe out a city, because again, the AHC will stop them.”
“There were capes before the AHC,” Tori pointed out.
“Yes. Ones that saved the day many a time. But never without risk, and often not without loss. They were not unbeatable—that is the very point I’m driving toward. Here, there are no real worldwide threats, because in your heart, you know anything that dangerous would draw the capes’ attention. Most beings who are smart enough to actually be a threat to the world are also capable of seeing the odds stacked against them. It means fewer people ever try to take things that far because they’ll never succeed. And most realize it. That creates a different world than one where power is up for grabs, and the strongest can claim it.”
Some of the food settled heavy in Tori’s stomach. “That was your world?”
To her surprise, Ivan slammed the rest of his drink, went back over to the bar, and fixed himself a double. When he spoke again, there was an ache in his voice she’d never even caught a whisper of before. “That was our world. Mine and the others’. There were lots of organizations out there chasing meta-powers, some with science, others through training, and a few that went the magical route. A cult favored that last option to great success: the Order of the Final Dawn.”