by Drew Hayes
“What’s just coffee?” Irene asked, ambling into the break room. Outside of her Cold Shoulder costume, she seemed smaller, somehow, and far less imposing. Neither Ren nor Donald was silly enough to believe that; after Wednesday’s fight, they were keenly aware that a fierce warrior lurked below her unassuming surface.
“Donald finally worked up the courage to ask out a girl he works with,” Ren explained, the cheer on his face glowing so brightly he could have been mistaken for Apollo.
“I asked her to go get coffee with me and catch up.” Donald put away the phone and took a few steps away from Ren to avoid another back slap. The first one was already starting to bruise. “And I’m not sure I can really say we work together anymore. I have no idea when the next time I’ll get to go to the office will be.”
“Probably not for a while, the way Apollo is training us,” Irene said. She wasn’t far from the mark; since the Wednesday embarrassment, they’d been drilling as a team constantly, with three sessions per day simulating all manner of different combat environments. All of them suspected the only reason they weren’t being trained twenty-four seven was that other AHC members needed to use the facilities as well.
Ren’s enthusiasm finally dimmed a bit and he shook his head. “The supplemental training is optional, you know. We’re all free to skip it if we want.” Apollo had told them all that when he handed them their new schedules. While each believed it was sincerely true, they also didn’t think for a moment that there wouldn’t be consequences to such a decision.
“I wasn’t complaining, just pointing out that Donald has a full plate,” Irene replied. “I’m not sure when he’ll cram in a date, let alone a day job.”
“Tuesday afternoon,” Donald told her. “And it’s just coffee, not a date. But as long as I’m seen in public, I don’t think Apollo will mind me missing a session. He keeps trying to get us to go out more to be seen. Says it helps remind criminals that the AHC is everywhere and makes regular people think of us as just like them.”
“That a fact? Well, if we can’t do team drills, maybe I’ll take the opportunity to have an afternoon on the town as well,” Irene said. “Ren, you want to go check out a local sculpture exhibit with me?”
“I’ll think about it.” Ren didn’t relish the idea of skipping training, but he was on board with Donald actually pursuing someone he liked. For that, he might be able to justify missing one afternoon of work. Though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to tolerate a whole afternoon of art. “We’re not outed superheroes, though, so us being in public doesn’t generate PR.”
“Unless we go in costume,” Cold Shoulder countered. “I bet Apollo would love that: two capes out on the town, enriching themselves with culture. That’s the sort of thing that gets you in the news and the arts section. Double whammy.”
It was a shrewd and accurate point. Worse, it was such a good idea that Ren didn’t have a defense for it. Rather than admit defeat, he employed a tried and true combat tactic: he stalled for time.
“Something to think about for sure, but for now, we’ve got training to do,” Ren said. “Let’s head over to get started.”
“I’m not forgetting about this,” Irene warned, though she followed as he led them out of the break room. “Either of you gotten news on our fourth yet?”
“I heard Apollo is making the rounds through all the other rookies, searching for one that best fits our existing team dynamic,” Donald told her.
“Do either of you have any idea what that actually means?” Irene asked.
“Not a clue,” Ren replied, grateful to have the topic off his plans for next Tuesday. “But he got us you, so the man clearly knows what he’s doing.”
* * *
“No good. We’ve already got a redhead,” Apollo said, tossing the file into the growing stack of rejects. “Cyber Geek might be in combat a lot of the time, but when he’s not, that copper-top is still on display.”
Jessica protested before her career’s sense of self-preservation could intervene. “But sir, her power—”
“Is a secondary, if not tertiary, concern.” Apollo glared at Jessica, who meekly went back to work, sorting through the pile of potential magic metas to pair with the current team. “These kids have the potential to be great. They’ve got that spark that grabs the media’s eye and the public’s heart, but only if we package them just right. That means we need to balance the team carefully, which we can’t do by doubling up on unique attributes.”
“Here’s a good possibility,” Barney said, handing over a new file.
Apollo skimmed it quickly before throwing it in the reject pile. “Power is good, and she’s blonde, which is a nice touch, but she’s too plain.”
“Last time you wanted plain,” Jessica pointed out.
“That was because Medley is so terrifying, we needed someone to soften him up,” Apollo replied. “Cold Shoulder was a good fit for that role; she’s unimpressive in almost every capacity, so seeing him fighting alongside and protecting her makes him seem endearing. That said, the role is already filled, so let’s cover a new base. The team is significantly lacking in sex appeal on either end of the spectrum.”
“Cyber Geek is polling well,” Barney pointed out.
“He’s polling as loveable, like a clumsy guy you want to root for, which is exactly what we hoped for with him,” Apollo said. “Now let’s add someone the public wants to fuck, not hug. If we can round the team out with eye-candy, they can be used for just about any appearance or story we want to run.”
“I might have one,” Jessica said, pulling a new file out from near the bottom of her pile. “She wasn’t near the top because she wasn’t necessarily a perfect fit, but if you’re really focusing on aesthetics, I think she might be a good choice.”
Apollo accepted the file and looked it over carefully, starting with the picture on the front page. “A little pale, though some go for that. Black hair, too… would have preferred a blonde for this. She’s not thick, but she isn’t exactly the lean body-type. I mean, those hips alone...” Apollo flipped a few pages to look at her power and let out a low whistle. “Damn; that would be a solid tactical fit, I’ll give you that. Okay, sell me on her. Why this one? Power aside, she doesn’t exactly tick all the usual boxes.”
“But the boxes are changing,” Jessica said. It was the first time in the meeting she’d felt a bit of traction, and she refused to let it slip away. “The classic pin-up beauty is coming back into vogue. Barney can show you the statistics, but it’s a trend we’ve been watching slowly rise over the years. Right now it’s on the precipice of breaking mainstream; we can get out ahead of the curve. With the right costume, hair, and makeup people, that woman could be the face of the new wave of beauty. If we’re quick and smart enough about it, she might even get credited as ushering the new trend in.”
Now that piqued Apollo’s interest. Trendsetting capes were practically worth their weight in pilfered alien technology. Once that label got hung across their shoulders, every fashion choice they made spurred on dozens of imitations, which could be sold by AHC subsidiaries for a sizable profit.
“Get her in for a test photo session and run it through at least three focus groups,” Apollo ordered. “I want the data and pictures in my hands by no later than noon tomorrow. If she works, then we’re done, but if not, I’ll need to have some backup on hand. We have to get the team rounded out as soon as possible; Cyber Geek and Medley have already made their debuts. If we’re not quick, the public will think of them as solo acts and might buck the idea of them being part of a team.”
“We’re on it,” Barney said. He and Jessica rose from their chairs and reached for the remaining files, but Apollo waved them off.
“Leave them. I’m going to dig through and find a backup or two, just in case Jessica’s hunch is wrong.” He noted that Jessica visibly paled by a few shades before she and Barney bolted from the room. In truth, he trusted Jessica’s judgment even more than Barney’s, but she was only at the t
op of her game when she thought the stakes were high.
Besides, he really did need to find a spare fourth, just in case. That group had to be ready. If everything went to plan, then next week was going to provide them an opportunity to make a name for themselves unlike almost anything that had ever come before. If they were prepared, that team of rookies could be household names by the time the next weekend rolled around. Personally, Apollo was rooting for them, partly because he liked them, at least Medley and Cyber Geek.
But mostly because when the dust of what was coming finally settled, he was going to need every PR tool at his disposal.
Chapter 72
Tori wasn’t exactly sure what she’d been expecting as she and Ivan stepped into the guild. She knew enough of the more frequent attendees to know that none of them seemed particularly big on ceremony. Things appeared to be business as usual otherwise: Ivan was dressed in his dark, nondescript Pseudonym outfit once more and she was clad in her apprentice costume. Nevertheless, she felt unsettled. Her bag had been left in the car with assurances that it would find its way to her room, so there was nothing in her hands as Ivan walked her down a deserted hallway and into a small elevator.
“This isn’t some final test, is it?” Tori blurted out just as the doors closed. “Like, you all say I’ve passed but then make me and the other three fight to the death to see who really gets into the guild?”
Ivan didn’t respond immediately, which set Tori’s teeth on edge. She began working through how in the hell she’d take down the others without so much as a shoulder plate from her meta-suit. Finally, Ivan answered, and when he did, she could swear there were the barest hints of amusement in his voice.
“If that were the case, I’d have almost certainly let you bring along some of your weaponry. It wouldn’t look very good on me if my apprentice were killed off quickly, after all.”
“Oh, come on. We both know I might go down, but I sure as shit wouldn’t be the first one out.” Though her words were rough, her nerves were settling. Ivan wasn’t the sort to joke often; if he felt up to quipping then things must be on the up and up. Or he really wanted to see her die, which seemed unlikely. Ivan was the sort that, if he wanted someone dead, he’d do it by his own hand.
At last, the elevator doors opened to a room Tori had never seen before, which wasn’t surprising given how little of the guild’s building she’d been exposed to. It was a vast space, bigger than the gym in her old high school from another life. In the center was a hardwood floor—no doubt for dancing—surrounded by a moat of flat red carpet. Buffet stations and bars were stationed in all of the room’s corners, each manned by robots a lot less sophisticated than Xelas. Across from the entrance was a large stage currently occupied by seven other bodies: her fellow apprentices, their mentors, and Doctor Mechaniacal in full meta-suit.
To Tori’s enormous shock, between her and that stage was a veritable sea of bodies. She’d never seen this many people in the guild at all, let alone all at once. Some people were in colorful costumes that smacked the outskirts of her brain with familiarity, while others wore suits or tuxedos. Most were humanoid, but an occasional face full of tentacles or eight-foot tall green ogre peered back at her through the more mundane stares. It was one of the most surreal scenes she could recall, made all the more strange by the fact that they were all looking right at her. If not for the gentle pressure of Ivan’s hand on her shoulder, she might have stood there, dumbfounded, staring back at them.
At his touch, her brain finally clicked back into gear. She walked toward the stage with as much composure as she could muster. For the first time, she was glad her apprentice costume came with a mask, as it covered the blush that was trying to rapidly creep across her face.
“You could have warned me about this,” Tori whispered darkly under her breath.
“And miss the opportunity to see my composed apprentice so taken by surprise? All the money in the guild’s coffers couldn’t have convinced me to give up a chance like that,” Ivan replied.
Tori might have said more if she weren’t trying to swim through a sea of stares on her trek to the stage. Had the others been subjected to this? Only if their mentors got as much of a kick from screwing with them as Ivan did, she supposed, so it seemed likely. As she walked, Tori nodded her head at the few guild members in the audience she recognized. All three of the Bytes were there, with one of them, Gig, already so drunk she was leaning on Kilo’s shoulder for support. Kristoph was in the crowd; even amid so many other villains, he’d been given a wide berth. Still, he smiled and waved at her, and Tori gave a small wave back. Johnny Three Dicks was hanging out next to Xelas and Morgana, all of whom grinned as they saw her pass. Even Stasis offered up a small nod of greeting. Gork made a weird motion with her giant hands that Tori chose to assume was friendly but didn’t bother attempting to mirror.
Then it was over. They climbed a set of wooden stairs to approach the stage. Ivan guided her to a stop at the end of the row, where they flanked Beverly and Thuggernaut. Tori and her fellow apprentice exchanged a single nervous glance before Doctor Mechaniacal’s voice filled the giant room, instantly snaring the attention of every criminal, ruffian, and crook assembled before him.
“It is not often that we have the chance to welcome new members into this guild. Too many who share our passion for freedom, for life outside the rigid confines of laws designed for humans, are unwilling or unable to curb their baser instincts enough to live within the shelter and rule of our organization. We are a rare breed, each and every one of us. Powerful enough to survive the capes, but wise enough to know there is value in avoiding conflict. Each time we take in refugees, be they from a confluence or an invocation of the Orion Protocol, it is with the sincere hope that they will one day stand on this stage. Sadly, too few ever make it so far. This is what makes today so special. I cannot recall the last time an entire group of recruits all showed the level of intelligence, judgment, and skill required to satisfy our entrance criteria. Yet here behind me stands just such a group.”
Doctor Mechaniacal swept his hand back to gesture to the apprentices. As his fingers were directed at her, Tori felt a rush of accomplishment she hadn’t been expecting. Among the crowd, several eyes grew misty, though whether it was from joy at the new members or simple nostalgia over when they had stood on the same stage varied from villain to villain.
“I know none of us are the type to revel in ceremony and speeches,” Doctor Mechaniacal continued. “Yet so many of you came today because you know that, for us, this is no mere empty ceremony. All of us, together, are the unlovable, the un-reformable. We are the people who were deemed incapable of existing alongside society. But we did just that in the forming of this guild. We have done more than simply build a place to sleep and eat and plan elaborate heists. We have found a place where we, at long last, belong. All of you remember how important that feeling was the first time you truly experienced it here, and I know that’s why you’ve come out to support the welcoming of our newest members. Because this guild is more than just an organization and a council and various members. To me, from the beginning, this guild has been a family. It is a place for people like us, the ones who had no place of their own. We made it ourselves, carved out a space in the world that we could call home. And today it is my great honor to welcome four new members into that home, to be a part of that family.”
Thuggernaut was crying freely behind Beverly, whose eyes seemed to be misting up a bit as well. Even Tori felt her throat get tight. As much respect as she’d always had for Doctor Mechaniacal’s brain and inventions, she’d never realized just what a gifted orator he was. The man could speak. In the sea of faces before her, Tori could see features that had been plastered all over the evening news and wanted posters crying freely. He’d hit them right in the sore spot, touched on the true heart of what made this guild possible. It wasn’t the code—that was just the framework so people knew what to do. No, for the first time since she’d arrived, Tori could fin
ally see what had been in front of her all along: the guild gave everyone who could accept it a place to belong.
Her first tear fell before Tori fully realized the implications of her revelation. It gave every one of its members a home. A family. And now, that included her. For the first time since she’d sat in a hospital room, watching the life of her parents slip away one tooth-grinding beep at a time, the weight of Tori’s self-imposed loneliness grew just the slightest touch lighter.
“As you can all see, our new members still wear the garb of apprentices and are followed by their teachers,” Doctor Mechaniacal told them. “If you will please be patient and help yourself to the refreshments, we will retire to a private area where they can be presented with their first official guild costumes. When I return, it will no longer be with guided apprentices but with full members of our guild.”
“Wait,” Tori whispered, pragmatism quickly overtaking the swell of emotion. “You all got to design our costumes?”
“Well, it’s not a surprise if we have you do it,” Ivan quietly replied back. “You can change them as you see fit now that you’re members. This is just for you to wear tonight as you meet the rest of the guild.”
“Still wish I’d had a little input on whatever I’m about to put on,” Tori replied.
Ivan chuckled quietly, a little more humor in his laugh than Tori was entirely comfortable with. “Come on. After all this time, don’t you trust me?”
* * *
Truth be told, it wasn’t all that bad. Lots of black and red, not that far off from the Pseudonym color palette, actually, with a bit of a flame motif around the trim. It was sleek and contoured to her body well, giving enough padding to preserve modesty but otherwise minimizing the amount of fabric she’d have between herself and the meta-suit.
Tori turned around in the dressing room, one of four that had been set up in the small room behind the stage, checking the outfit from all angles. It didn’t give her the same feeling of transformation as getting into her meta-suit had, but she certainly wasn’t recognizable as Tori Rivas in it, and she clearly was no longer an apprentice either.