by Drew Hayes
“Where did you learn to cook?” Rick’s tongue was still slightly weighed down by sleep, but he was fast shaking it off with the energy that only youth, and a few meta-made compositions, could provide.
“Largely self-taught, with various books and videos to help along the way.” Ivan weighed how much honesty he should divulge. Technically, Rick hadn’t asked specifically about the life he’d kept hidden. Then again, should he have to? So long as Ivan stayed away from the more troubling topics, there was no reason not to shoot straight wherever possible. “I didn’t have a lot of pleasures growing up. Food was one of the few things to enjoy. Once I got older, it became an interest and a hobby, something I could do that was... creative.” Ivan had almost said “non-destructive,” which was also true, just not where he wanted to aim the conversation so soon.
Rick let out a soft groan and wiped his face, clearing some sleep from his eyes. “Well, you managed to make breakfast sound cryptic, so I guess we should just get right into this.” Before he could continue, Ivan set a glass of orange juice in front of him, then motioned for Rick to go on.
“I’ve had some time to think about what you told me. The army, the beach, you being a meta-human... and that part, I can make peace with. Mom had your back, you know. She told me that you only did all that because they threatened us. I still don’t know if wholesale slaughter was the right course in that situation, but I also get it. You were protecting your family, and in the end, since you weren’t even charged with a crime, it seems strange to hold that incident against you.”
It was good news, and had the delivery not come laced with several qualifiers, Ivan might have felt a rush of hope in his chest. Sadly, it was all too clear that Rick wasn’t done yet, so Ivan merely continued to cook the eggs, giving his son room to find the words.
“What bothers me is this: I know that’s not everything. If you’re fish-army-killing strong, then there’s basically zero chance that you’re some no-name meta. You have a past, a history that goes well beyond that day on the beach, and I’m guessing most of it has less noble goals than protecting your family.”
“I made a promise.” The words leapt out of Ivan’s mouth from old, nearly forgotten habit. How many times had he spit out that phrase in the face of capes, criminals, and victims alike? How many deaths because of a single vow? “Yes, Rick, I did bad things. Killed, hurt—fill in the blanks. If you want to know why, it’s because I promised vengeance to someone who was truly owed it. Some of the deeds I did in service of that goal, others to survive or gain resources, but it always went back to that promise. I’ll give you the specifics, if you want them, just be warned that we’ll be diving into one of the darkest parts of my history.”
Shaking his head, Rick downed a quarter of the juice in a single gulp. Ivan slipped the first batch of eggs, scrambled just the way he liked, onto Rick’s plate while the drink was in motion: the seamless coordination of a dad who’d cooked untold meals, while also hiding a murderous secret.
“Let’s not go that deep to start. What I was going to say is that, while not all of it could have been about protecting us, I don’t think you’d hurt people without reason. For now, I’m okay with keeping some things a mystery. There’s just a few big-ticket concerns I wanted to get out of my head.”
Still dangerous territory, though Ivan much preferred general to specific, in regards to his past. Turning his attention to the pancake batter, Ivan hoped he wasn’t about to make a major mistake. “Ask away.”
“Have you ever hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it?”
“Unquestionably, yes,” Ivan replied, no hesitation whatsoever. This was a question he’d been expecting in some form or another and had already planned out a truthful response. “Even excluding the circumstances of my own brutal upbringing, metas often work in gangs or syndicates, the more powerful ones forcing their will upon the weaker members, turning them into pawns. Pawns tend to get cut down, and I can’t expect that all of them deserved it. But that’s also the nature of combat. Step onto a battlefield, and it’s no longer about who deserves what—only those who live, and those who don’t. Outside of that, I can only say that I’ve never struck without cause. How deserving they were from there is a case-by-case question.”
Rick’s eyes were wide, yet he was managing to stay composed. He’d certainly come in better prepared for the conversation this time around. After a few seconds, the shock seeped away from his face. “I guess that’s fair. Even in the beach example, you couldn’t have known the morality of every member of that army. It’s not like you killed a superhero.”
Without warning, Ivan found himself at a precipice. Two paths lay before him, truth or falsehood. It would be very easy to lie right now, to put his son’s mind to rest and let the matter end. The problem was, if Rick ever found out Ivan’s identity, the lie would be obvious. Fornax killing a cape was what had finally caused his and Lodestar’s last real fight, and his eventual incarceration. It was a well-known piece of trivia, one that Rick would be sure to pick up. Lying when they were young had been the right call—Ivan still had no doubt of that—but he’d told Rick that they were past that phase. Another fib, and whatever they built from here would always have the potential to be destroyed at the foundation.
“Superheroes go bad sometimes. Jokull, the Silent Server, Faithful, Candlebop—all former beloved capes who turned down a dark path. That’s not even including the ones like Apollo, who abused their position to try manipulating the law. I’ve never struck without cause. Perhaps it’s best if we leave that point there.”
This time, the shock didn’t fade so quickly. Rick chewed on a bite of eggs to the point where there had to be nothing but largely liquid left—either processing or plotting how to run for the door, Ivan wasn’t fully sure which.
“Since you mentioned Apollo, there is the matter of that guild he exposed.” Rick was going slow, visibly building up his courage. “I didn’t think there was any chance you could have been part of that, even knowing about the beach. But the more you talk, the deeper I’m realizing this goes. Were you one of them, pouring out of that building, fighting in the streets?”
Though he couldn’t have known it, Rick left quite a large loophole for his father to exploit in that question. Ivan was sorely tempted by it, even knowing how important the truth was at this juncture. It wouldn’t be worth it in the long run; however, this did offer a bit of wiggle room in regards to how specific he had to get with the response.
Ivan spooned pancake batter into the sizzling pans, hisses and pops peppering the spaces between his words. “I was not in that crowd, but to answer your larger question: yes, I am affiliated with that guild. As much as it is a gathering of criminals, it’s also a support group for those seeking to find a more mundane life… one that hasn’t technically been charged with any crimes, I might add.”
“Wow.” Rick was past stunned, into near bewilderment. “That’s... you’re part of a guild of villains? What about the armored guy who saved me and Beth, you sent him?”
“No, I didn’t,” Ivan responded. “They learned about the danger to your school and came to help of their own accord. Because as much as it might seem like an assortment of monsters from the outside, there are people in that guild who I trust with my life. Friends who protected my family before I even knew they were in danger. So before you jump to conclusions about what that place is, keep in mind that when things went awry, my ally’s first instinct was to save a school, not to run around pillaging.”
With a clatter, Rick dropped his fork to the plate, eggs only half eaten. He stared down at them, trying to accept Ivan’s words. “You trust a guild of villains... with your life. Do you get how insane that sounds from my side of the table? What about me and Beth, should we be making inroads with these people, too? Never know when we might need saving, and the Curdler is our only hope.”
Sounds from overhead cut them both off. It seemed they’d gotten loud enough to raise Beth from her slumber. Once the smells hit, t
hey wouldn’t have much time left to talk openly. Ivan decided to finish things off with a quick piece of vital advice, one he’d be very grateful not to have to explain.
“You and Beth should be protected, but things do go wrong. If something ever happens to me, then don’t bother with the guild. Get to the AHC or somewhere public—on TV, if you can manage it—and call for Lodestar.”
“Because she’d just happen to be listening and choose to help us in that moment? She’s not everywhere at once,” Rick pointed out.
“Maybe not, but if I’m gone, then she’s going to be looking for you both to make sure you’re safe. I’m not only acquainted with villains, you know.”
It was the first time all morning that Ivan had seen surprise that wasn’t slightly terrified on Rick’s face, and he did his best to memorize the expression. There probably wouldn’t be many more like it to come if Rick kept asking questions. Eventually, they’d get to the truly horrifying stuff, and his son would never be able to look at him the same way again.
Chapter 58
The mood was tense as Morgana looked over the reports, her primary team gathered at her side. On her left stood Gork; to her right was Stasis, with the remainder of the room filled by the team leads who would be running their own units.
“Based on our intel, it looks like they haven’t moved much this week. If Endless Blitz knows we’re coming, he’s not tipping his hand.”
At Morgana’s words, a ripple went through the room. They’d hunted down most of the traitors to the guild—those who were not killed the day of the riots—but a few had managed to slip away. Endless Blitz, with his power of body duplication, had been a vital asset for Balaam’s attempted uprising. It was thanks to Endless Blitz that Balaam had appeared to have gathered so many forces early on, and that same power had made the man especially tough to capture. Thus far, they’d caught three duplicates posing as the real one. This time, they’d used new scanners and some fresh magical incantations to make as sure as possible that this was him. Vengeance was finally close at hand.
“One last review before we go,” Morgana announced. It would be overkill in most situations, but former guild members were special cases. “Remember, above all else, that this is not a normal code enforcement. Endless Blitz was one of us. That means, along with being strong enough to make the cut, he knows our tricks, our tactics. He doesn’t want to die any more than the rest of us do, so we can be certain he’s laid every defense possible to hold us off. We can hate him all day, but don’t belittle the danger he presents.”
Locking eyes with each of her subordinates, Morgana made sure the point found its mark. Ego could be a danger in the field, especially when emotions ran this high. “Whisperwind, you and the magic users are going in first. Mark the real Endless Blitz, then thin out the clones so they can’t confuse us. As soon as you act, Onslaughter’s team rolls in to push over whatever goons he’s got surrounding him. Horrorsaurus, your team roams the exits, making sure nobody slips away and tracking them down if they do. Gork, Stasis, and I will come through once the initial strike is made to cleave what remains. Be ready to change and adapt as needed; we can’t take anything as certain when facing off with one of our own.”
“Any risk of capes?” Whisperwind was a slender woman with a soft demeanor, yet her voice carried well every time she chose to speak.
“With as many lookout teams as we’ve got stationed, there better not be,” Stasis said. “The fewer bodies to keep track of, the more likely we are to get him this time, so we’ve got three separate lines of security. Short of the major players, if one does wander by, we’ll at least have warning.”
Onslaughter’s sizable form leaned down, a habit of trying to speak to others on roughly their same level. “At least it’s not a Ridge City base. Hiding all the way out in Ebnerville, he really didn’t want us to find him. Endless Blitz loved living in the big city.”
“The remote location and small amount of overall crime make it low priority for capes,” Morgana noted. “Which will aid our own efforts, as well. In a way, perhaps we should be thankful to Endless Blitz. It was so considerate of him to set the scene out where no one will hear his screams.”
The room nodded along with her, some even smiling at the sentiment. It was arguable how deep into true evil the various members of the guild fell, but there was certainly a moral gradient at play. On the subject of revenge, however, they were a far more unified group. This guild was more than just a loose association of crooks; it was a symbol of their collective power and pride—one that Endless Blitz had spit upon when he betrayed them, sealing his fate in the process. To wrong a villain was to court death.
To wrong a guild of them, well, that was essentially getting onto death’s lap and grinding hard. If Endless Blitz was so desperate to face his end, then as his former friends, they would oblige this final request.
Setting the controller down, Donald leaned back, the look of satisfaction on his face reflected back in the dark TV. The phantom Donald vanished as a fresh screen appeared, displaying the upgrade options he’d just unlocked. With planned ease, he checked off the selections, watching as the parts spun onto his digital jetpack, replacing the older versions to create a stable, quick flight system.
This was his secondary project of the week. The first, and far more taxing one, had been dealing with the New Science Sentries as his team’s shadow. They were polite, thankfully, though he suspected that to be largely the product of Agent Quantum’s influence. To their credit, the team did excellent work. There had been a few occasions where they’d needed the extra numbers to take a call, and things had gone smoothly overall. It had also been during those moments that Donald began to grow a hunch about the team’s primary issue.
While he hadn’t felt confident enough to voice the notion yet, there did seem to be a fundamental philosophical difference in the foundation of their training. Apollo, for all the bad he did, had taught new capes the AHC protocols, one of the most important of which was that the goal was saving civilians. Sometimes, that meant taking down the threat, but it could also mean getting people clear, or shielding them from fallout.
From what he’d seen of the New Science Sentries, their education appeared to focus on threat neutralization first and foremost. They came in swinging and didn’t stop until everyone was down. It wasn’t wrong, necessarily. Their team was still protecting people, helping to make the world better. Yet there was something about it that felt... wrong. Without being able to put a finger on why, Donald just knew that their apparent enthusiasm for combat left a bad taste in his mouth. He suspected that feeling to be a large part of why they weren’t clicking in Ridge City. The people understood what standards capes were supposed to uphold and could tell when something was off. It wasn’t so bad now that he’d talked with Agent Quantum and knew that they were trying to improve, but the rest of the world didn’t have the benefit of that perspective.
They had been getting better: on Thursday’s outing there’d only been one broken bone, and Agent Quantum had tried to take the mugger down less forcefully first. Still, Donald was glad they didn’t have any actual patrols scheduled for that evening. He could use a break, and with his newest tool finally ready for testing, this was a perfect chance to go put it through its paces.
Scooping up his phone from the bed, Donald clicked on Ren’s name, the number connecting quickly. “Hey. No, don’t worry, no schedule change. We’re still free today. That’s why I was calling actually—you up for some fun tonight? I wanted to test out my jetpack. Oh hell no. Not in Ridge City; way too many tall buildings and other metas zipping around for a test flight. I was thinking somewhere more isolated, where I’d have room for mistakes.”
Glancing down at the GPS on his phone, Donald scrolled over the map, hunting for a city big enough to explore, but without too many obstacles. “How about Ebnerville, up near the Canadian border? Pretty sure the AHC can jump us there, and I doubt there’ll be much for me to hit, aside from trees. I’ll doubl
e-check and let you know.”
One press of the button, and the call was done. Donald zoomed in on the map, taking a closer look at his potential selection. While the notion had been spur of the moment, Ebnerville seemed as good an option as any. Testing the jetpack was what sincerely excited him. Making a mental note to go be sure they had viable transportation available, he turned his attention back to the screen and the newly completed item spinning around on the display.
Blue energy crackled along his fingertips as Donald reached for the code inside the computer resting in his skull. If he was taking it out for a test drive tonight, he’d best familiarize himself with the jetpack’s controls.
With the hiss of a helmet locking into place, Tori vanished.
Hephaestus cycled through her various system startups, then took a tentative step forward. Not perfect—there was still a noticeable difference between moving like this versus on her own—but the gap was shrinking. A few more rounds of fine-tuning and she’d have it: fluid, seamless motion, like there was no extra weight on her at all. She could practically feel it. Those tuning rounds would have to wait for Tori, however, as Hephaestus had a full evening ahead.
Stepping out into the guild’s hallway, she found Bahamut waiting; clad in her armored outfit and transformed to green dragon form. They fell into step alongside one another, heading toward the transportation chamber. While they could hop from the island to Ridge City using the installed gate, getting elsewhere still required special assistance. Whoever was putting this together had tapped the pair named Tunnel Vision to bring over all the teams. Theirs would be among the last to go out; the attacking units were already on the ground, getting prepared.
Arriving in the wide, open room with a vast, unmarked back wall, Hephaestus noted Pest Control in the corner, talking with Glyph. The former was clad in his almost beekeeper-like outfit, a costume with various metal rings adorning the exterior. As for Glyph, he’d made a few ensemble changes since they last saw him in costume. The cloak was traded for a stylized jacket, and his robe had been tailored up substantially to allow for easier movement. He still wielded the same wand, though Hephaestus couldn’t fault him for that. Considering that the wand not only allowed him to draw his namesake symbols wherever they were needed but also stored a prepared glyph ready to be deployed, it was a crucial piece of his outfit. Even being a gift from Balaam, it was too useful a tool to discard, not something that could be easily cast aside out of mere dark sentiment.