by Drew Hayes
“That’s awfully generous of the guild,” Tori said. She’d seen the way members were treated and it was always kind, but free rooms would take a lot of space and get highly expensive.
“We find that people make fewer stupid mistakes when they know they always have a place they can call home,” Ivan said. “Sometimes just having a place to go back to gives them the mental strength to keep on the code’s path.”
That actually rang true. The most desperate, harshest times Tori could remember were when she was scrounging for a home base, a place to be safe amid the chaos. Even in last week’s trials, the first thing she’d done was find a safe spot to hunker down. It was human nature. Providing such a luxury had probably saved the guild from having to deal with several of its members going off the rails throughout the years.
“I guess I’ll check it out once the dizziness fades, if that’s okay,” Tori said.
“It won’t fade while you’re under the lights, but I’ll get you a wheelchair and bring you over to it myself.” Ivan turned toward the door, but Tori’s hand grabbed his sleeve and held him in place.
“Be honest with me: how much more of this do I have to go through? I like learning from you, and I’m grateful for what you’ve done, but the longer this sword dangles over my head, the heavier its shadow gets. Give me a quarterly review so we can plan my next steps if you have to; just paint me a finish line.”
Ivan slowly turned back to her and gently rested his hand on top of hers. “This weekend, you’re going to learn how jobs with the guild work. For the next two weeks after that, you’ll be getting field training every night. At the end of that time, you will participate in a job, one you can orchestrate either by yourself or with others. How you do on that job, coupled with the judgment you’ve shown during your other trials, will determine if we believe you can adhere to the code. I can’t tell you how that job will go, Apprentice, only that when it’s done, you will either be a member of the guild or dealt with accordingly.”
Tori tried to release her grip, but Ivan held firm for a few seconds longer. “I should also add that as your teacher, my opinion is considered the highest prized regarding whether you can join the guild or not. And as things stand now, you have impressed me at almost every turn. Keep going the way you have, and I will fight tooth and nail to win you the admission you’ll have earned.”
A slight smile appeared on Ivan’s face as he released her hand and eased the heaviness of the discussion. “And you’ll be glad to know that since we were both injured on company property, they’re going to complete the rest of the quarterly evaluations without us.”
“You know, I think that’s actually worth the broken ribs and bullet wounds.”
* * *
Abner sat in the jail cell, no longer clad in leather or armor, listening to the small sound of leaking water as it dripped from somewhere in the building’s concrete depths. Dirk was being held someplace where his strength couldn’t be used to free him, and Nelson was dead. He’d been so careful in planning everything, in doing the research, in learning everything he could about the people who worked there. How could it all have gone so wrong? The entire plan shot to shit, his face still burned from that fucking steam, two of them in jail, and all because some lone meta had managed to get the drop on them. The buyer for the information was long in the wind by now; he’d kept himself far enough removed that Abner couldn’t point a finger, even if he’d wanted to.
The sole bright spot Abner could see was that Dirk and Nelson had been the only ones to get their hands dirty. He’d never fired so much as a single shot at anyone, even after that bitch threw coffee on his face. The mere thought of it caused the burns on his skin to flare up with pain, which Abner dutifully ignored. There was a chance he could skate by on this; after all, he’d let them tend to a wounded man. If he claimed that Nelson had spearheaded it and Dirk had forced him along, there was a chance he could beat the charges. Dirk was confirmed to be violent and Nelson was dead; there was no one left to give credible testimony against him. It was a rule he lived by: never leave unnecessary witnesses. It had cost him a few bullets and shallow graves, but this time, fate had been on his side. Without so much as a drop of blood on his hands, he could coast to freedom.
“Hello.”
Abner jumped in shock at the voice then turned to stare at the man with long, dirty-blond hair who had appeared in his cell. He wore an almost serene expression as he moved toward Abner, kneeling down to look the seated man in the eyes.
“Who are you?” It wasn’t the most apt question to ask at the moment, but Abner’s brain was hardly firing on all cylinders.
“I’m Kristoph. They let me go in first to check people, just in case.” That serene expression darkened. Abner felt his stomach churning in fear even before his brain could process why.
“You... are a bad man. You killed them in Guatemala, just because they saw you loading your bags. You killed them and threw their bodies into the river.”
Abner’s eyes went wide in shock. He’d never told anyone, not even Nelson, about the two children he’d murdered to keep his face unknown. Yet Kristoph knew. As he rose to his feet, a new energy swirled through the air. On the concrete walls of the prison cell, Abner noticed the moving shadows and saw what was sprouting from Kristoph’s back.
“You are a bad man.” All peace was gone from his voice; it was as though Abner was hearing the very judgment of a wrathful god. “And you will suffer for your sins.”
By the time the guards made it to the cell, the screaming had finally stopped, though what remained there would haunt their nightmares for years to come.
Chapter 36
“My oh my, the ability to turn digital items into real things. That is incredible.” Apollo was sitting across from Donald between two constantly-smiling people he’d introduced as Jessica and Barney. “And to have such a public debut, why, you’ve done the bulk of the work for us, which we always appreciate. Now, since you’ll be pulling out and using material that is trademarked or copyrighted by a slew of various companies, we’ll need to either get some waivers signed or have the lawyer get a defense ready to go when the lawsuits come rolling in.”
“Storybook already set the precedent with her literary minions,” Jessica replied, barely looking up from her laptop as she took down Apollo’s requests. “Courts ruled that a meta conjuring protected material doesn’t violate the copyright, so no damages can be sought.”
“Really? That’s a surprisingly favorable decision for the meta,” Apollo noted.
“It was right after Storybook helped save an entire city, and the company suing her was found to have some unethical dealings with child labor overseas. The PR was a tidal wave they couldn’t surf,” Barney explained.
“Well then, new tactic. Let the owners of the video game companies know this is happening and if they want to design some gear especially for our new recruit, they can do so for a hefty fee. Branding isn’t free, after all.”
“I’m not sure that will work,” Donald said. It was the first time he’d found his voice since the introductions. Everything that had happened throughout the day was so overwhelming; he was halfway running on autopilot. “I’ve tried to just code items before, but it doesn’t work. For whatever reason, they have to be a piece of a game world, though I’ve got no idea why it would matter.”
“Best not to overthink these things,” Apollo said, waving his hand as if he dismissed such issues every day. “Our powers themselves are often a mystery at the outset; the deeper you dig, the more confusing things get. So, only real game items will work then. I feel like we can still make something happen there, but let’s table it for the moment. Instead, let’s focus on getting you equipped, Donald. Barney, what’s the turnaround on getting a portable unit for our new man, one preprogrammed with every video game and item screen on the market?”
“We could get a halfway decent version in a few days, but if you want something top-of-the-line, we’ll have to wait for Professor
Quantum to make it,” Barney replied. “And you know his turnaround times.”
“Order the weaker one as a stop-gap measure; it’ll have to do until we can get Professor Quantum to work on something besides his pet projects,” Apollo instructed. He glanced at Donald and offered up a comforting smile. “The man is a legendary genius, and like most people with that sort of intellect, he’s prone to getting caught up in his research. I’ll talk to Quorum and see if he can’t speed things along. In the meantime, someone schedule Donald a meeting with our costume people. He’ll need some protection while he’s learning the ropes.”
“Already got him booked for tomorrow morning,” Jessica said, hands still whizzing across the keyboard. “The press is hounding us for a name, though. You know how these things go; if we don’t give them something soon, they’ll start using a nickname and it’ll be hell to unstick it from him.”
“How can we forget the way Cuddle Monster got his name?” Apollo let out a sigh as he shook his head, and even Jessica and Barney’s smiles dimmed significantly. “I suppose that means picking a name is the next item on the agenda. Donald, you have my sincere apologies. Normally, we allow our new members to have their names researched and market tested before making them settle on one, but this is a downside to having a debut like yours: things just move faster. Now, you’ve obviously been training on using your abilities for some time now. Have you given any thought to what you might call yourself?”
Donald had, in fact, given a tremendous amount of thought to that ever since he realized the storm had given him powers. However, he’d thought about it in the same way he thought about what he would tell his online friends if he managed to score a supermodel girlfriend: it was always more fantasy than actual problem. Yet here he was, sitting across from Apollo, the Apollo, being asked what the name he’d use when he donned his costume would be. It was so far beyond what he’d ever considered possible that it was surreal. Donald kept expecting to wake up suddenly or find out he’d died in the fight. It was taking all he had to keep his sanity together, so the words that popped out of his mouth did so without bothering to get his brain’s approval. They knew the brain had bigger issues to deal with.
“I sort of thought... maybe... something like Cyber Geek? You know, turn an insult into a positive, and since my powers relate to digital stuff, I thought it would be cool...” Donald trailed off as he registered the vacant stares from Jessica and Barney. Apollo, however, clapped his hands together so loudly it startled everyone in the room.
“Cyber Geek, huh? I like it! Not too stuffy or proud, a very down-to-earth name. Shows you know where you come from. The Internet is going to love you. Jessica, any issues?”
“Oh, um, one second.” She clacked away on the keyboard, pulling up several databases and punching his proposed name into each one. “No prior claims on it, no trademark issues, and nothing in private domain. If he wants Cyber Geek, it would be his free and clear.”
“Handling his own debut and picking a name we don’t have to pay for; Donald, I am liking you more by the second.” Apollo stood from the table and motioned for Donald to do the same, though neither Jessica nor Barney were given such orders. “You two get it registered. I want that name released to the media in the next hour before they try and give him one. As for you, Donald, with the paperwork out of the way, how about I show you around the facilities? The Alliance of Heroic Champions has top-notch gyms, spas, recreation areas, and housing, should you decide to avail yourself of any of that. All of it’s here at your disposal to help you be the best superhero you can be.”
Donald allowed himself to be led from the room, still uncertain of what, if anything, to say. Apollo seemed to have things well in hand, so Donald let the glowing man keep helping him through the paces. He did wish they’d let him visit Tori and Mr. Gerhardt, though. Assurances were nice, but he’d like to be certain they were okay. Oddly, no one he mentioned it to seemed very worried about them. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d have said that Apollo was almost annoyed by the mention of Mr. Gerhardt.
He knew he was imagining it, though. Why would a world famous superhero be annoyed by a middle manager?
* * *
“You know, I was coasting on a pretty good wave of respect and self-esteem after last weekend, but then Little Miss Attention had to go and get half the guild talking about her again.”
Tori looked up from the sandwich she’d been eating—her third one since leaving her room—to find Beverly standing in the door of the lounge. Ivan had told her that it was usually only rookies on this floor so her chances of seeing anyone were greatly reduced, but somehow, she’d had a feeling it wouldn’t be that simple.
“Maybe step your game up,” Tori replied, kicking out an empty plastic chair on the other side of the small table. “Or get a day job where you’re likely to be a target of organized thieves.”
“I have a day job, thank you very much. I do freelance articles for an online fashion company. Haven’t even missed a deadline during all the chaos of turning meta.” Beverly stopped by the refrigerator and pulled out a half-empty soda bottle, then took the offered seat across from Tori. “It’s weird being in here without Lance playing his games. Too quiet.”
“He must have gone to bed early. Apparently we’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow,” Tori said, digging into her sandwich. Spending three hours in fire-form had healed up most of her injuries, but as soon as she turned human Tori realized that she’d gone the whole day without eating. With the nausea fading and her stomach back in place, she’d begun throwing food down as quickly as she could get it from the vending machine.
“Lance? Nah, guy’s a night owl. Wait, those eat bugs. Maybe a night wasp or something. Point is, I’m usually up pretty late, and I always turn in before him. More likely he’s hanging out with Arachno Bro, getting mentally pumped for whatever they’re going to throw at us.”
“Not the worst idea.” Tori looked around the lounge, admiring the big screen, vast couch, cushy recliners, game tables, and well-stocked vending machines. It seemed like it was made to accommodate far more than just the four apprentices that were currently being trained. She wondered if they’d once had larger groups of recruits, and if so, why that number had dropped off.
“What about Warren? He usually hang out here?” Tori asked.
“Once in a blue moon. Balaam likes to keep him around for training pretty much all the time. People who actually cast magic have it rough; they have to study their asses off to know what they’re doing, otherwise they can accidently start some serious shit,” Beverly explained. “Not unlike you science types, actually. I’m glad my power is straightforward: turn into dragon, kick ass, turn back.”
“I could have used you on my team today,” Tori admitted. “You never realize how much you need someone who can throw a good punch until you don’t have one.”
“If nothing else, we’re always in demand.” Beverly smirked as she twisted the top off her bottle of soda and drained a quarter of the remaining contents.
“Maybe you should pick up a book on dragon myths,” Tori said. “The flying wyvern, the fire breathing beast, the armored monster; all of your forms seem to be based on popular legends. It might not hurt to see if you can find out what else is in your amulet’s arsenal.”
“Way ahead of you. I’ve read more about dragons in the last month than I ever wanted to know. I even got halfway through a role-playing game manual before I realized there were no actual dragons in it. It’s given me some ideas about what I might be able to do, but try as I might, nothing has come from it. Seems the only way to unlock them is to need them, which is only handy until I get in a situation where the dragon I need doesn’t exist.”
“That’s what you have friends for.” Tori finished off her sandwich and walked right over to the machine to get another. Her stomach was quieter now but far from satisfied.
“I don’t think every hurdle we face is going to be like last week’s trial,” Beverly said.
Tori stuck a wrinkled dollar in the machine and made her selection, peeling back the cellophane as soon as she’d gotten the well-made morsel into her hungry hands.
“Maybe not, but this place runs on teamwork more than you’d think,” Tori replied, returning to the table. “And trust me: if there’s one thing today demonstrated, it’s the importance of having good people watching your back. If it had just been me and Pseudonym, our covers would have been blown and our coworkers might have been killed.”
“Or you could have both played along and just let the robbery happen,” Beverly countered.
A grin that had nothing to do with her sandwich crossed Tori’s face. “Now, I think you know there’s no chance that could have happened. Pseudonym didn’t become known as a villain because of his willingness to take people’s bullshit.”
Beverly leaned back in her plastic chair, looking at Tori appraisingly as she devoured her fourth, and not final, piece of dinner. “And what about you?”
“What do you think? I am his apprentice, after all.”
* * *
“Uncle Ivan!” The small girl barreled into Ivan’s legs with such ferocity it might have knocked him off-balance had she been several tons heavier. Her arms curled around his legs, hugging him in the unashamed way that only children ever seem to manage. It was a tragedy that humanity lost that skill as it grew older—perhaps the world might have been a better place if everyone were so free with their affection.
“Good to see you, too.” He reached down and mussed her mousy brown hair with his free hand, the other laden with bags from a nearby restaurant. At his touch, she hugged his legs tighter. Ivan made no move to pull her away.
“That’s enough, Penelope. You have to let Ivan go if he’s going to make it in the door.” From down the hall, Helen stepped into view. A lovely woman in her mid-twenties, she looked only a few years younger than Ivan, though both of them were keenly aware of just how deceiving appearances could be. “Oh, for the love of—I told you that you didn’t have to bring dinner.”