by Drew Hayes
The next step was securing fodder. Lozora’s contacts were of a specific type, those with established reputations. It was essential to have a known element approach the other criminals; they weren’t exactly the openly trusting sort. However, numbers still counted for quite a lot, especially where the game of distraction was concerned. Dealing high-tech weapons to various criminal outfits was a dual-pronged tactic: it not only allowed him to test designs before the big day, it gave him an in with the unsavory enterprises.
This task was best handled by someone with no past, origins, or true identity. Moving from the repaired communications array, the man ambled over to a drawer, producing a small square box. Popping it open, he thumbed through the array of IDs for his various identities. Some were fresh; others had been in use for decades, building up legitimate histories. Those were suited to other tasks. Today, he sought something fresh.
A pair of Ws jumped off a card at him, and he smiled. The names were left up to chance, so one must have come out that way by coincidence. Or, perhaps, serendipity. Either way, the search was over as he pulled the card up from the ranks of its brethren, promoting it to a position of usefulness.
“I suppose I shall be Wendel Worthington, then. For a few weeks.” Wendel took the card over to his computer, where the identity’s other information could be researched. A name with alliterating Ws might not mean much to most people; however, for Wendel’s purposes, it was a perfect moniker. A tribute, in a way, to one of the only other people who’d managed the same accomplishment.
There were, after all, only so many people who Professor Quantum truly hated.
After the long week she’d had, Helen was aching for a few minutes of relaxation. Penelope was still sleeping, other members of the AHC were keeping the world safe, and she’d just finished a long night flying the skies. The sound of hot water pouring into her bathtub was like a siren’s song of rest.
While she didn’t really feel pain outside of serious attacks from major metas, Helen could still carry tension. Her back especially was ready for some treatment. She paused in the kitchen long enough to grab a mug of coffee and warm it with a quick blast of her thermal-breath, then headed for her sanctuary. Unfortunately, before she could reach the peaceful palace of porcelain, the phone rang. Not her home phone, of course. Life could never be that simple.
From the pocket of her robe came Helen’s AHC-issued device, packed full of technology. It wasn’t quite on par with the Quantum Utility Tool she kept on her as Lodestar, but was far less conspicuous, as to the outside observer, it was little more than a phone like countless others.
“What’s up?”
Quorum’s voice was waiting for her—another bad sign. “Quite a great deal. The world is restless, and Captain Bullshit has just unveiled another exhibition. Concerning you—however, there is specific business that needs addressing. On a rescue mission last night, we had a team suffer heavy civilian losses. While they still saved a great many, the pain of their failing is undeniable. They need to see The Grove, and historically, you liked to be contacted in those situations.”
Standing in the door of her bathroom, Helen stared at the soft steam steadily rising from the tub, practically forming a hand and crooking a finger to invite her in. There were others who could do the job, who had been doing it for years while she was gone. Except it wouldn’t be the same. When the speech came from the strongest meta, when Lodestar said that nobody could save them all, the newer superheroes listened. Twisting the knob, Helen killed the water and popped open the drain, letting her planned moment of peace go swirling into the sewers.
“Let me drop Penelope with a sitter, and Lodestar will be there.”
It was a surprise to wake up and find snow falling from the sky. For one thing, the season was still late summer. For another, snow wasn’t usually blazing purple and electric blue in color. Lastly, Tori was pretty damn sure snow didn’t turn into flowers when it landed. True, they died after a few minutes, but it still had the effect of letting Tori look out her window and see Ridge City caught between a blizzard and a jungle.
“Oh good, you’re up. I was coming to get you.” Beverly pushed the bedroom door fully open, having already turned the knob.
“Is this something we should be concerned about?”
“Nah, the news says it’s just a Captain Bullshit exhibition.” Making her way across the room, Beverly joined her friend by the window. “I’m not great with meta-history, but he can change reality, right? With a power like that, he kinda sticks out.”
“As I read it—and this was in an article from years and years ago—the consensus is that he can reshape reality, but only to create what he deems to be art. Not sure what the exact term was—I think he called his style ‘absurdist creative expressionism,’ assuming that isn’t just word-soup. Never much of an art gal.”
The two of them stayed like that for several minutes, watching the multicolored snow fall and coat their city in a sea of flora, which died and was replaced in fairly quick succession. One thing was apparent, however: no one would be driving in this. A car might make it ten feet before becoming overgrown, and that was being more than a little generous.
“The city invoked a meta-holiday, so most businesses are closed,” Beverly supplied, her own eyes tracing the empty streets. “Chloe is home all day, and I’m ahead of schedule on work. After what happened, if you want to be alone, I get it, but if you wanted to have some company, we’re here for that, too.”
A reassuring hand landed on Tori’s shoulder, almost causing her to flinch. After a moment, she let herself relax. Or at least as relaxed as she was capable of being.
“I know you well enough to guess you might want to shove past the whole kidnapping thing, and if so, then we can respect that. Just know that if you do decide to talk about it, I’m around.”
“Thanks,” Tori said, her voice stiff despite her best efforts to soften it. “Maybe once I’ve had a little time. For now, I need to feel like a normal person, you know? Just for a day, leave all the other stuff on the sidelines and rest.” Burning as her ambitions where, Tori could also feel her own exhaustion, the kind sleep would do nothing to fix. She needed to reenergize, and drudging up that recent horror-show wouldn’t help.
The hand on her back clapped her once before removing itself. “Good time to want normality, though. We can turn this into a snow day: watch winter movies, make hot chocolate, enjoy a mini winter break.”
Pressing her hand to the window, Tori could feel the heat coming through the glass. If anything, it felt warmer than it had lately. Maybe flower-rain warmed things up, since normal rain cooled the temperature down? It was hard to put too much logic into this sort of thing; reality had literally been momentarily warped, so making sense was largely optional.
“I think we might want to go the other way with that. By noon, this whole place’s AC will be fighting to keep up.”
Beverly followed her lead, a momentary blip of surprise on her face as she felt the warmth. “Huh, not a bad point. Okay, so... beach day? Make margaritas in the blender, go make use of the rooftop pool before fall really sets in?”
Ordinarily, Tori would have happily chosen a day working in her garage lab, but this week was anything but ordinary, even by supervillain standards. A day with her friends sounded like just the right change of pace. Some normality to balance out all the extra crazy she’d been dealing with of late.
“I’ll tell Chloe once she’s out of the shower,” Beverly offered. “You get dressed. We’ll figure out a game plan.” Beverly almost went to leave, before stopping herself. “Look, we don’t have to talk about this right now. I just want to tell you so you don’t think I’m springing it on you later: I sort of ended up inviting our neighbors over later this week. Austin and I ran into each other. We got food, and by the end, I’d somehow offered some basic socializing lessons so they can stop blowing their cover so often. Don’t feel obligated to attend by any means—I got myself into this—but also, please be aware w
e’ll be hosting capes on Sunday.”
Although even twelve hours ago, that might have been of greater annoyance, Tori wasn’t quite so bothered by the idea as she’d expected. Seeing Ike and Kyle’s more vulnerable sides had offered useful insight into their personalities and the team’s dynamic. If they were going to be her protectors, she should probably understand their limits. And if they were going to be Hephaestus’s enemies, she should definitely know their weaknesses. Either way, Tori always held to the belief that more information was a boon, and this sounded like exactly the sort of scenario where such tidbits might be spilled.
“Let me know once the details are pinned down. Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try not to leave you on your own to deal with them.”
“I appreciate it. Given their current track record, I can only imagine what sort of state secrets they’ll accidentally reveal,” Beverly said. To her, that was probably a joke, though Tori wasn’t so sure. “Get dressed. I’ll get things started on our snow day, but for sun. Sun-day? No, crap, that’s obviously a day already. I’ll figure it out by the time you’re done.”
Beverly marched out, momentarily more concerned with her naming dilemma. As for Tori, she took her time getting ready, starting with a short shower that was closer to boiling than hot, the sort that a human would have shrunk from. It felt good to be in her own shower, getting ready like it was another day heading to Vendallia. Most of the time, Tori fit well into her extraordinary life, but on occasions she too needed the comfort of routine.
Post-shower, getting ready was a simple affair, with no cumbersome work clothes to bother with. A simple t-shirt and shorts would see her through until it was time to head to the roof; the apartment’s dress code was minimal on its best day. Running hands through her hair, Tori checked the mirror and found a normal, everyday woman in her mid-twenties staring back.
She paused, looking the image over with a critical eye. What she was planning would mean using the spotlight that had been thrust upon her, but in doing so, she’d likely never escape it again. Image was going to be a thing she’d have to care about, inasmuch as it furthered her goals. Controlling the perception was key, especially at the start. How she looked would be the first thing people noticed, and the furthest she might get, if her choices were not calibrated properly. It wasn’t that she was looking to tart things up, more that she needed to project a specific image. This was a matter to consult on with Beverly, once things were a bit further along. For today, Tori was happily resigned to some much-needed mundanity.
With the mirror-check done, she stepped out of her room and into the kitchen. To her shock, she entered to find Beverly halfway shifted into her green dragon form, glaring at a strange woman shivering in a bathrobe, kitchen knife clutched tightly in her shaking hands.
It was such an insane scene that she genuinely thought her mind was mistaken, improperly processing the visual information being sent. But a few quick blinks changed nothing, except to bring a few more details to Tori’s attention. For one, the woman was absolutely breathtaking, the sort of inhuman beauty it took celebrities and special effects to achieve. Her looks clashed with the worn, lime-green bathrobe that didn’t fit her statuesque body. In fact, it didn’t look right on her at all, because Tori knew that robe.
That was when it clicked, and while Tori was making some serious deductive leaps, she also trusted her gut as she stepped forward, quickly putting herself between Beverly and their apparent intruder.
“Calm it down,” Tori ordered, very nearly reaching forward to pop Beverly on the nose. “You’re scaring the piss out of Chloe.”
That earned a pause in the glowering as Beverly’s already green eyes, tinged with a hint of magic, scanned the shivering woman once more. This time, she was probably taking in the fact that their “intruder” had come unarmed, as that was their kitchen knife, and was dressed in a bathrobe that also happened to belong to a roommate who wasn’t present. One with strange, hard-to-define powers, capable of truly unpredictable effects.
“That’s Chloe?” Beverly sounded normal, so evidently, her tongue hadn’t gone dragon-shaped yet.
“Of course, it’s me!” Chloe sounded much the same, a slight husk to her voice lost in the near terror. She looked down at herself, eyes widening. “Shit! Sorry. I came in here to show you this, but then you whirled on me, and I sort of panicked.”
The three of them stood like that for a moment, until Beverly’s body started to shift, slowly morphing back to a fully human form. “Apologies. I’m a little on edge, given everything. How did you change your entire body, though?”
A sheepish look came over the stunning face they were looking into. “I was in the shower, thinking about phrases, and one I hadn’t tried popped into my head. Turns out, once you say that beauty is only skin deep...”
As Chloe explained, Tori turned her attention to putting on a pot of coffee. Day off or not, the way things were shaping up, she was definitely going to need it.
Chapter 40
“At first, nothing happened. Then I noticed some of my skin peeling a little in the water. Not much, not even sunburn level—just like the dead, dry skin coming off. Soon, more was coming, and after a few seconds, the whole top layer washed away to reveal... this.”
Chloe spread her arms, pulling the bathrobe to dangerous heights. Her new form filled it out far more fully than the original, with ample hips and chest, capable shoulders, and toned limbs. Flowing chestnut hair, pouty lips—it was like she’d been built using photo manipulation software. “Neat trick, right?”
Neat was one way to put it. Terrifying was another. Chloe’s power was like Captain Bullshit’s, in that it played entirely by its own rules and logic. Sudden shower-shapechanging like that should be harder, should take some kind of toll, but all Chloe had needed was to find the right words. This was one just more innocuous trick, yet Tori couldn’t help wondering how long it would be until Chloe found the words to something dangerous, the sort of ability that would put her on the wrong people’s radar.
“Here’s my thing, though, isn’t beauty subjective? Like, yes, you are a stone-cold knockout right now, but what part of your ability determines what we value in the looks department?” Beverly had shifted from attack to analysis as soon as the situation became clear. She leaned across the kitchen counter, nearly knocking over her own mug of coffee, scanning Chloe more closely.
“I hadn’t considered that,” Chloe admitted. “Maybe based on what I consider to be beautiful? Or an average of everyone in the area’s general preferences? It’s a good point. You never really know what one person will like over another.”
Tori said the words on reflex, not fully considering the implications. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
Silence filled the room. Eyes turned to Tori first, then to Chloe, as the same thought echoed simultaneously through all three heads. Beverly broke the word embargo, tapping her finger against the counter. “You don’t think...”
“No reason I can see why it wouldn’t,” Tori replied. “Then again, I’m not the expert.”
“But you’re right. It makes sense in theory,” Chloe agreed. “Same principle, and I can see how it would work. What the hell—let’s make a morning of it. A penny saved is a penny earned.”
It seemed like nothing happened. Then Tori blinked, and Chloe was back to her old self again. The core limit of Chloe’s power appeared to be that she could only sustain a single saying at a time. Changing it up canceled out the lingering effects of her last one—in this case, at a rapid pace.
“Figured I should set myself back to normal for a first test. Okay, here we go. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
Taking a cue from the last minute, Tori voluntarily closed her eyes, giving the power time to work. Ideally, this would make for a smoother transition, and Chloe hadn’t accidentally summoned a fantasy monster by mistake. Slowly, Tori peeked, scoping out the new-new-Chloe.
At first, she thought it hadn’t worked, but that w
as only because she’d been expecting another complete overhaul. Instead, this Chloe looked more like a relative of the original. Same basic structure, only everything had been elevated: flawless skin, defined muscle, her face reshaped slightly, and her white-blonde hair now well past her shoulder.
“Oh, neat. You look good as a brunette.” Beverly was also staring, though based on her comment, they weren’t getting the exact same picture.
“Interesting. She’s still blonde to me,” Tori said.
Chloe hopped up from the counter, a gleam of excitement in her eye. “Hang on, let me get a pen and paper. You can both write down what you see, and then we’ll compare. Let’s test what this new saying can do!”
While it wasn’t technically a very normal start to a day, Tori was spending her morning goofing around with her friends. That part mattered more than staying within the confines of the mundane. Besides, the scientist in her was always piqued by experimentation.
In terms of this project, there was a nuclear option—one that Rick was hesitant to pull, fearing both the blast and the fallout. He contemplated that as he typed on the computer, keenly aware these efforts were largely fruitless. So far, his research had gone nowhere. Whoever had hidden his father’s true identity was skilled far beyond anything he could manage with some scrounged-up hacking programs. Each bit he’d pulled for Tori was the same. Everything lined up. Every document, every piece of history, all of it told a cohesive story of a young woman who’d lost her family young, fallen into drugs, and finally gotten her life together with the help of a distant uncle. Except there was no link between her family and Ivan, because Ivan had either been lying to them their entire life, or he truly had no family to speak of. Or both.