by Drew Hayes
Forging Hephaestus
Villains’ Code: Book 1
By Drew Hayes
Copyright © 2017 by Andrew Hayes
All Rights Reserved.
Edited by Erin Cooley ([email protected])
Proofread by Kisa Whipkey (http://kisawhipkey.com)
Cover by A.M. Ruggs
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgements
This book is dedicated to the toughest, most determined superhero I’ve ever known: my mom.
A big round of thanks to my beta readers as well. Without them answering the book-signal, this wouldn’t be the same novel. Thanks TheSFReader, E Ramos E, Ruby, Bill Hammond, and Priscilla Yuen.
Chapter 1
Flames cascaded down from the vent, moving like poured mercury rather than fire. They crackled as they danced through the air, drifting slowly to the steel floor. At first the fire seemed to shrink back from the cold metal surface upon contact, but as the steel began to glow from heat, the flames spread out. They twisted and curled upward into an elongated column. As they rose, a shape began to form. It started as a rough humanoid outline and became more human with each passing second, until it was clearly that of a young woman with long flowing hair. She would have looked quite normal, and perhaps a bit comely, were she not composed entirely of sentient flame.
Then, with no warning at all, the fire disappeared, and only the young woman remained. She turned her head with great care, taking in every detail of the vault that encased her.
It was a massive structure, one that had taken no less than three months of planning and two accomplices to break into, even with her special abilities. Lasers, alarms, pressure switches, heat sensors, and a myriad of cameras were just some of the obstacles she’d overcome, and now she was in their deepest sanctum.
No mere trinkets were housed in this tomb of titanium, no coins or jewels. No, this was a central vault for Indigo Technologies, a leader in every industry that involved circuits or switches. Everything they released managed to be years ahead of their competitors. With the prototypes and plans available here, she would be able to advance her own research by decades as well as make a tidy profit. Finally, she could begin funding her own projects. All it would take was a bit of corporate espionage to get her off the ground.
She stepped forward with impossible care, eyes sweeping for some new trap ready to spring out at her. None of her considerable bribes, thieving, or threats had secured her information about the vault’s interior defenses, so from this point on she was flying blind. There was no way Indigo would stop at merely protecting the outside, though, that much she was sure of. She crept toward one of the nearest walls, constantly on alert. When she reached it without incident, she tenderly opened the first drawer she could reach.
It was metallic, like all the box drawers she could see, and slid out from its nearly-seamless integration in the wall with a simple touch. The marking on its front—CX9-315—was gibberish to her, but she had to start the search somewhere. Perhaps she would get lucky and glean some sense of what the filing system meant from the box’s contents, and if not, she would just keep searching blind.
Inside drawer CX9-315 was a single piece of paper. Clearly this project hadn’t gotten very far off the ground, but if its mere concept was in a place this secure, then it had to be worth taking. She pulled the paper up to read it, unable to contain her curiosity. Curiosity was her fatal flaw, one that had resulted in her gaining her fire powers several years prior. But what met her eyes was not a project plan or a design schematic or even a rough sketch. Instead, it was two words in a bold, formal font, centered on the page:
“Well Done”
“The hell…?” she muttered, despite the fact that she was keenly aware of exactly what “the hell” was going on. Before she heard the vent system seal up or saw the glowing orbs crackling with energy rise from hidden compartments or felt the sudden dip in temperature—before all of that—she knew she was undone from the words alone. Someone had known she was coming, and Indigo Technologies was not the sort of company that failed to prepare for a guest appropriately.
“This is interesting,” said a new voice, one coming from everywhere in the room yet at the same time from no single spot. It was a male voice, older but not quite at the cusp of aged. Rather than sounding upset or accusing, it seemed amused. That, more than anything else, set her teeth on edge. Angry people could be predicted; their actions would fall in the realm of reason. Someone amused, sounding like they’d found a new toy, could herald true horrors in store for her.
“Did you know that when we set this little trap for you, I was the only one who believed you had the skills to spring it? Everyone else thought you’d be snared by the lasers or the coolant cannons. Only I believed you had what it would take to make it all the way here.”
“Trying to make me feel thankful?” She held the paper firmly in hand and it burst into flames. The fire spread up her hand to her elbow; within seconds there was nothing left but ash. Undone or not, she had no intention of going down gently.
“None of that, now. I was trying to tell you that you’ve just won me several thousand dollars and bragging rights. This means at the moment I am rather predisposed to like you, while my underlings are significantly miffed. You should probably just go along with things, because the other options in front of you are far less pleasant.”
At his words, the temperature in the vault dropped noticeably. She suspected that if she’d had a normal tongue and pressed it to the metal walls, it would have stuck. Maintaining her flames grew significantly more difficult, but she persevered. She would not show weakness, not even if that was her final act of defiance.
“All things considered, if I have to die, then I think I’d like to wreck as many of your toys as I can on my way out,” she spat.
“Die? Who on earth mentioned dying? Dear child, this is an opportunity.”
“You just called it a trap.” The flames spread farther along her arms even as the temperature continued to drop.
“It’s that too. A trap, an opportunity, and an audition. We’ve had an eye on you for some time, Tori Rivas. We wanted to see just what you were capable of, given a bit of information and some competent cronies.”
“Geraldine and Cooper… they work for you? You set this whole thing up?”
“We gave you resources; you’re the one who decided how to use them. And to that effect, you used them very well. Breaking into this vault is no small feat; we designed it not to be.”
“Why go to all this trouble? Why didn’t you just approach me with a grant or a job offer?” Tori asked, looking up at the ceiling vaguely since there was no physical person to direct her questions toward. “Indigo Technologies is huge and well-funded, I’d have taken a job.” Well, she’d have pretended to accept, and then used her access to find a much easier way into the vault, at any rate.
“Oh, Ms. Rivas, there is so very much to bring you up to speed on. Suffice it to say that we wanted to test far more than your ability to punch a clock and boil some coffee. Plus, we’re well aware of your opinion toward conventional occupations. At any rate, I’d love to continue this discussion; however, you have yet to make a decision.”
“A decision about what?” Her voice leapt and the fire flashed on her arms. Cold could dampen the physical capabilities o
f her power, but it held no dominion over the temper burning inside her.
“About your future. You are smart, talented, determined, and powerful. We have taken notice of you and of your potential. At this point, there are two ways we can regard you: as an asset or a threat. Assets are tempered, trained, and cultivated. Threats are eliminated.”
“Do it then, call the capes! Let’s see you explain your little mousetrap to them when they come get me. I’m sure some of the shit in here is illegal.”
“I did not say threats were incarcerated. I said threats were eliminated.”
The floating orbs glowed more brightly. The temperature had fallen well below freezing. It would be impossible to fully transform in here now, and obviously her captor knew it.
“You can’t do this. You’re just a corporation; you don’t get to kill whoever you want.”
“A better grasp of America’s history in third-world nations and its handling of union debacles would tell you just how wrong that statement is in general. But let’s focus on the point that’s most salient to our discussion: we are far from just a corporation. Talking time is done, Ms. Rivas. You have a choice to make.”
Tori stared at the orbs, wondering if she could take them out. As cold as it was, she rather doubted it, but anything was possible. One never knew how a fight would end until it was over, that’s what her father had always taught her. Still, even if she took out the orbs, they were bound to have other things, worse things, waiting in the wings. She didn’t want to go down easily... but she also didn’t want to die.
The flames on her arms burned away, leaving behind a woman who seemed far smaller and more frightened than she had only seconds before.
“Does anyone ever take the other option?” Tori asked, as she watched the orbs vanish back into the walls.
“More than you might think. Our kind is a stubborn, prideful lot, and many do not take well to being trapped and threatened.”
“Our kind?”
The vault door opened, revealing a tall man in his mid- to late-forties, adorned in meta-armor Tori recognized at once. How could she not? It belonged to one of the most famous inventors of the last hundred years and one of the greatest criminals the world had ever seen. It had taken at least ten capes, working in tandem, to finally take him down. All that was missing was his trademark helmet, which was why Tori could make out the blue eyes and surprisingly warm smile on his face as he answered her question.
“Villains, Ms. Rivas. That is our kind. We are villains.”
* * *
“Take that, vile monster! I smite thee with the shining light of justice!”
Clacking filled the air as thin, dexterous fingers danced along the keyboard and caused the shining knight on the screen to hack and slash with furious gusto. Each move was precise and calculated, decimating the wicked minotaur’s health faster than the bull-headed being could recover. Victory seemed certain, until a gentle but very deliberate cough filled the air.
“Donald, what are you doing? We’ve talked about this before.”
Donald spun around in his chair, one of the few orthopedic ones in the office, until his eyes rested on the tall man staring down at him. Ivan wore his usual pressed dark suit, crisp white shirt, and knotted red tie as he looked at his employee with a mix of weary exasperation and subtle displeasure.
“I’m just playing a game, Mr. Gerhardt. I didn’t break the rules like before. It’s my lunch break, and I brought my laptop from home, so I didn’t think it would be an issue.”
Ivan carefully considered the gangly young man in front of him. He could come down hard on Donald, scare the wits out of the poor boy so that he’d never step out of line again, but that would probably put him off working here. Despite his... tendencies, Donald was a talented programmer. Even with his knack for getting lost in side projects, he seldom missed a deadline, and the work he produced always ranged from good to excellent. Most managers would say that such things were irrelevant, that rules were rules and had to be followed. Ivan had been managing for some time, though, and he knew that cultivating resources was more important than being authoritarian. Besides, he had a bit of a soft spot for rule-breakers, as long as they stayed within the bounds that he set.
“Putting an unauthorized computer on the network violates several of Vendallia Industries’ safety protocols,” Ivan said at last. “That thing could have all manner of viruses, and without the safety software we put on the corporate machines, there would be no way to tell.” This was bullshit, pure and simple. The corporate machines had cookie-cutter software that was easy enough for the management to use and cheap enough for the higher-ups to justify. Someone with Donald’s skills undoubtedly had a more secure laptop than what the rest of the office was working on.
“Oh, right. I didn’t think about that,” Donald said. Ivan could see he was lying; even a man without his background could have read the anxious young man’s face.
“Look, it’s a silly rule, but if IT catches wind of you putting that thing on the network, we’ll both get an earful. Do you really like playing games that much?”
“It just helps me relax, reset my head. I don’t want to cause trouble, but this is sort of like my equivalent to a smoke break,” Donald said.
Ivan nodded empathetically; it was a skill he’d spent years honing to get just right. “I can understand that. But at the same time, I can’t let you break safety protocol. So here’s what I’d like to propose: you’re on the Elquey Project, right?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Gerhardt.”
“That’s a big project with a lot of money to be made, so the people up top are keeping a close eye on it. I need someone I can trust watching over the technical side. And Donald, I think you might be the man for that job.”
“Me?” Donald’s brown eyes widened, stretching so far that for a moment it seemed his eyebrows would make contact with the ends of his stringy red hair.
“That’s right, Donald, you. That’s what I came to talk about. I’ve had my eye on you for months, and I think this is your time to shine.” Ivan carefully rested a hand on the wall of the cubicle, being sure to present body language that spoke to how open and caring he was. “The whole department needs this to go well, and I’m a firm believer in the right man for the right job. Part of that job, by the way, will entail needing a personal company laptop. You’d have to use it for all manner of work, and you’d be free to install anything on it, so long as it meets the company’s general use guidelines.” Ivan doubted Donald was stupid enough to watch porn on a company computer, but he also didn’t want to have IT yelling at him about another hard drive caked in smut.
“So... I could play games on it?”
“When you’re not on company time, yes, so long as they’re not inappropriate, you’d be free to use the device as you saw fit. Now tell me, are you interested in the position, or do I move on to Williams?”
Donald’s wide eyes suddenly narrowed. He and Rene Williams hadn’t gotten along since they started. Rene was a ruthless kissass who never hesitated to steal credit or throw others under the bus. Ivan might have been inclined to reward such behavior if Rene also had the skills to succeed without others to feed upon. As it was, his main purpose was as a motivational tool Ivan could wield against his other employees. The moral and decent didn’t want to see Rene Williams make any headway in the company, so much so that they would often take on extra tasks to prevent it.
“No sir, Mr. Gerhardt. I want the job. Please.”
“Excellent, I’m glad to hear it. I’ll put in the form this afternoon. By Thursday, you should be approved. Oh, and I’m sure it goes without saying, but no more breaking protocol. You understand that this is a big opportunity and a lot of eyes will be upon you, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good man, glad to hear it. Just send me an e-mail if you have any questions.” Ivan turned and strode out of the cubicle, an expression of genuine happiness on his face.
Whatever manipulative methods he mig
ht have used to get his way, Ivan had meant what he said: Donald really was the best man for the job. He was talented, smart, and resourceful, not to mention so terrified of authority that Ivan wouldn’t have to put forth much effort to keep him in line. That would make Ivan’s job, and therefore his life, easier.
He strode into his office—nothing too fancy, just four walls and a door that closed— and sat down at his desk. His computer had gone to sleep while he made his rounds, the dark screen showing his reflection instead of the spreadsheet program he’d left running. Ivan wasn’t particularly handsome, though he did appeal to women who liked strong noses and pronounced chins. Both his eyes and hair were quite dark, a feature he’d inherited from his mother and passed on to one of his two children. Despite his age, Ivan looked like he couldn’t be much older than his late twenties, a fact that everyone inevitably brought up when they met him.
There were a myriad of lies he used to explain the phenomenon: clean living, regular exercise, liberal use of sunscreen, and excellent genetics all making regular appearances. Soon, though, he’d have to think of something else—looking like this in his early forties was one thing, but once he was in his fifties, genuine suspicion would be aroused. Perhaps he’d lie and say he’d been doused with an experimental anti-aging serum. It would be strange, but not altogether unbelievable. It was certainly a far cry better than telling them the real reason his body refused to stop being youthful and fit.
Ivan glanced down at his desk and noticed the red voicemail indicator on his cell phone blinking. That was curious. Even down the hall, he should have heard his ringtone; that’s why he’d felt comfortable leaving the phone in the first place. Picking up the device, he unplugged it from its charger (damn thing could never last more than half a day) and pressed the button to call his voicemail.
As soon as he heard the voice on the other end, everything made sense. Of course the actual calling process had been bypassed. The message probably wasn’t even sent from another phone… more likely a convoluted system meant to bounce around signals and scramble listening devices. Ivan would have dismissed it as paranoia, if not for the fact that his friend had excellent reasons to be suspicious of prying ears. With a resolved grunt, Ivan leaned back in his own chair and listened to the message.