by Drew Hayes
“Now that that unpleasantness has passed, I suggest you all celebrate,” Doctor Mechaniacal informed them. “We’ll have some fresh food and drinks brought down; no need to worry about trashing the tables. It happens so often during these things that we’ve learned to keep extras on hand. Enjoy yourselves. You must be famished from your time out there. Your money will be put into your respective bank accounts on Monday, with the added bonus going to Thuggernaut’s apprentice for her exemplary performance.”
Doctor Mechaniacal paused, walking over toward to the staircase that Balaam had ascended. Their teachers followed him, albeit a few steps behind. When the doctor reached the edge, he turned his helmet toward them once more. “Your teachers will each discuss your performance with you one on one, making sure you understand the lessons presented. But today, you have passed a hurdle toward guild membership, and as such, your involvement in our world will increase. Next weekend you’ll understand what I mean. So take this time to rest and enjoy yourselves, deepen the friendship that has begun to bloom, and remember that not all obstacles can be overcome on one’s own. That is a lesson the capes taught us firsthand, and it’s a mistake this guild is dedicated to teaching you to avoid.”
With that, he headed up the stairs, Thuggernaut, Arachno Bro, and Pseudonym all close behind. As they stepped out the door, Arachno Bro closed it firmly behind them, and Doctor Mechaniacal let out a long, low sigh of relief.
“Whew; the kids are taken care of. Now everyone to my quarters for the real party! I’m already there, waiting.”
* * *
While Lance and Beverly were no doubt predominantly grateful to be back in a room with air-conditioning, with Lance being especially thankful for the handful of pain killers he’d been given for his injuries, it was the table of real food that filled Tori with gratitude for being back in the civilized world. Grabbing a paper plate, she darted for one of the tables they hadn’t smashed and began piling it high with chips and sandwiches, even helping herself to a cold beer. After the ordeal they’d been through, she felt entitled to at least a little relaxation. Lance was only a few steps behind her, and Beverly quickly followed. None of them were on the verge of starving, but protein bars were a poor replacement for actual culinary creations.
Lance and Tori made it through two sandwiches and Beverly four before the eating slowed down enough for conversation to bubble up. At first, they talked about the insanity of their last robot opponent, all blown away by how strong it had been. This turned to a discussion of how they would have fought it if given enough time and preparation. Eventually, the discussion gave way to the same topic every new meta-human focused on sooner or later: their powers.
“I’ve been collecting bugs since I was a kid,” Lance said, somehow managing not to slur a single word despite the ceaseless stream of chips entering his mouth. “We lived out in the deep country, and there was only so much to do after chores were finished. My granddad taught me about them, helped me learn the ins and outs of catching and respecting bugs. I kept it up even after moving to the city, as best I could. On the night of that big storm, I was in the museum’s entomology exhibit when an old statue of a scarab started glowing. All I remember after that is a lot of buzzing, some loud noises, and then when I woke up, things were different.” Tipping back a beer of his own, Lance cleaned it out in a single gulp, and then reached for a new one.
“Probably magic then, like me,” Beverly surmised. “Did you get any weird scarab designs on your skin?”
“Not that I’m aware of, and no one mentioned it to me after I got checked out the next morning.” Lance popped the cap on his beer using only his thumb, a motion so fluid that Tori could only imagine how many times he’d done it. “But weirdly they don’t think it’s magic. Doesn’t give off the same vibes or whatever. The current leading theory is that it was some codex from an ancient civilization, but that’s far from proven.”
“Then I guess you’re stuck in a mystery as well, at least as far as where your powers come from. How about you, Tori? You told me yours came from an accident, care to elaborate a bit more?” Beverly’s tone was almost inhumanly polite as she pried into something that clearly wasn’t her business. It was a strange contrast to the gruff way she acted when channeling her dragon powers.
“There isn’t much to tell,” Tori replied. “It was a few years ago, when I first started to work on the plans for my meta-suit. The hardest part of those things is creating a power source, you know. Any idiot can slap a rocket pack on a localized shield generator, but producing enough juice to run it is a big problem.”
Beverly and Lance exchanged glances, as both were reasonably certain her idea of “any idiot” seemed to require someone with far more technical expertise than them.
“So I was trying to crack that part first; you know, why build a car frame if you can’t make an engine? Most inventors use a meta-element like blagrinite or setlium, but I wanted something more stable. Anyway, I had this idea about converting the organic life found all around us, germs and bacteria and the like, into energy via a chemical reaction. When I fired up my prototype, it turned out I’d made a few miscalculations. Overload, explosion, and poof: here I am.”
“A self-created meta. I respect that. There aren’t a whole lot of those out there,” Lance noted. “I tried to ask Warren how he got his powers, but that guy apparently talks no more than he absolutely has to.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Tori said. She wasn’t sure how to feel about Warren. Sure, he seemed like a dick, but with Balaam as his teacher, it might be more reactionary and protective than malicious.
“I have to ask, did you ever figure out a way to power your meta-suit after that first failure?” Beverly had finished her plate of food and was absorbed in the conversation, leaning forward to carefully study the expressions of her fellow apprentices. Tori got the feeling it had been a while since Beverly was able to relax. Probably since the night she first turned into a massive dragon, if Tori were to place a bet.
“Well, yeah. I mean, my prototype didn’t exactly go as planned, but it did give me my power source.” Placing her own plate on the ground, Tori allowed her head and hand to engulf in fire, staring at Lance and Beverly as she did. “Fire’s not the most efficient energy out there, but since I never run dry, it should still work fine for my purposes.”
“Damn... you’re going to use yourself as a battery.” Lance took another long draw from his beer and nodded with approval. “That’s smart. Kind of weird, and definitely outside the box, but smart. Starting to see why the guild thinks you’re the one for us to beat.”
“Maybe I was before, but as of now, Beverly is the one who cleaned house at the trials. I came in fourth,” Tori pointed out.
“If I didn’t know better, and I’m not sure I do, I’d think you planned it that way to get some of the pressure off you,” Beverly said. Her tone was gentle, but a glint of suspicion twinkled in her eye.
Tori chuckled, turned off her flames, and picked her food back up. “I wish I could claim to have thought that far ahead. I might be—okay, I am—brilliant when it comes to electronics and mechanical stuff, but I’m awful at planning or scheming. I was basically flying by the seat of my pants out there, just like you two.”
“My cynical side wants to doubt you, but it’s pretty hard seeing as I was flying right there alongside you,” Beverly admitted. “Though part of me wishes you were a schemer. It would be nice to believe one of us has this all in hand. That might have been all the flying my pants can take.”
“Let’s just hope all our pants last for the rest of training,” Lance said. He lifted his beer up slowly, and after a minute, Tori figured out what he was doing. She tapped the glass of her bottle against his with a soft “clink.” Moments later, Beverly joined their toast with the side of her soda can.
“To the apprentices.” Lance’s voice was subdued for a change, the sudden touch of gravity in his words making him seem far less jovial. “May we all become th
e people we want to be.”
Everyone took a long drink, contemplating Lance’s words and thinking about how much still lay ahead of them.
* * *
Like all parties held by the villains’ guild, the one following the apprentices’ first trial was filled with fine food, excellent liquor, and an endless sea of reminiscing. Soon it would turn to boasting, both about feats accomplished and of ones that would have been so, had things been different. Ivan never minded the boasting, even if he never saw fit to take part. He was fine with others reliving what they considered to be their glory days, riding the high of their previous adventures. If it kept them satisfied and obeying the code, he didn’t care if they spent all day, every day bragging about what they’d done.
Not minding it wasn’t the same as enjoying it, however. Shortly after they arrived at Doctor Mechaniacal’s quarters, Wade’s shock of copper hair visible even as the Doctor Mechaniacal suit walked itself into a power station to recharge, Ivan piled up a plate with decadent food and did his best to project an unapproachable air. This had nothing to do with magic or his powers; it was a skill that involved lots of vacant stares, frowning, and pretending not to see people when they waved at him. He’d developed it over the years and was quite proud of how effective it was. Sadly, some of his guildmates were simply immune to his talents, even when his frown was set the deepest.
“No cash, but your girl put on a hell of a show.” Xelas plopped into a chair next to him, or at least pretended to. Had she actually dropped the full weight of her metal body on the chair, it would have been in splinters; Xelas was well-practiced at appearing to bound about as easily as any normal human.
Morgana arrived a few steps behind Xelas, settling down into her seat with a natural grace. “She did seem skilled at making them work as a team.” Morgana had ignored the food, instead choosing to help herself to the bottles of wine Wade had set out. Each was worth thousands of dollars, and they were for most of the guests to avail themselves of. Wade had but one rule when it came to expensive wine: only those who would appreciate it were allowed to drink it. Curiously, no one knew what would happen if that rule was broken, as it had yet to come up. Few in the guild had the power to disobey Doctor Mechaniacal, and of those that did, none had the inclination.
Ivan slowly set down the small fork he’d been using to spear escargot. “Your congratulations are appreciated but would be better directed toward my apprentice. She earned her own glory this weekend.”
“Ah, but we didn’t come by to congratulate; we came by to give fair warning.” Xelas’s ever-present, playful smile deepened, a sight which pushed her toward the uncanny valley and often made those she spoke with uncomfortable. “Morgana and I have been talking it over, and I think the council ladies are going to take the new gals out on a test drive.”
“Nothing unseemly,” Morgana assured him. “Just a little meet-and-greet, since Thuggernaut’s apprentice didn’t get to sit in on a council session like yours did. Plus, we thought it might be fun to get to know them. A girls’ night out, if you will.”
Looking back and forth between the two women, Ivan picked his fork back up and speared a fresh snail. “Is anything I say going to change this?”
“You could fight us if you reaaaaaaaally wanted to, but is it worth the effort?” Xelas asked, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Besides, you know talking with council members is good for newbies. We can give perspective, help them make connections, and generally get them more comfortable.”
“Your idea of comfortable is what I’m worried about.” Ivan pointed at Morgana with his fork and the butter-coated morsel at the end of it. “Are you going to be in charge of this?”
“Would Doc let us do it otherwise?” Morgana shot back.
“Fair point. Then I suppose I have no objections, so long as I can have enough warning to account for it in her training schedule. Also—and I feel this should go without saying—don’t get too attached. One trial does not a full member make.”
“Come on. We’re not the ones who’re rookies. We know the deal.” Xelas allowed her chair to hit the ground and rose fluidly to her feet. “I’ll get you a date as soon as we talk to Thuggernaut. In fact, I see the big man over there by Johnny. Morgana, let’s hustle.”
“Thanks for being a good sport,” Morgana said, smiling briefly at Ivan before Xelas half hauled her across the room.
Ivan popped the escargot into his mouth as he watched them go. Xelas was as brilliant as she was crazy—and the mechanical maiden was easily mad as a hatter—but she knew which lines were suggestions and which not to cross. Furthermore, Morgana was probably the most responsible person on the council, next to Wade, and if Gork was going too, then that would only make things easier. All in all, it likely would be an excellent opportunity for Tori to make connections and learn from experience.
In fact, it was so good he was a bit surprised there wasn’t an effort underway to have a similar night with the male trainees. A moment’s consideration and Ivan realized that would mean putting the apprentices around himself and Balaam with only Wade as a buffer. No wonder that idea hadn’t been suggested. One night of that would be enough to make even the most dedicated apprentice throw their next trial just to find the sweet release of death.
Maybe Johnny could put something together, though. Ivan decided to speak with him about it; after his meal was done, of course.
Chapter 28
“Drop me off here.” Tori pointed toward the coffee shop on the corner halfheartedly, her eyes drooping as she struggled to keep them open. In all the excitement and celebration of their victory the night before, it had completely slipped her mind that she had work in the morning. Ivan, however, had suffered from no such memory lapse. The heartless bastard had nearly dragged her out of her apartment, hustling her into the car with no concern for either her sleep-deprivation or mild hangover.
“There’s coffee in the office.” Ivan, despite having been out as late as Tori, looked just as ready for the day as he always did. She wasn’t sure if it was an aspect of his powers or a learned skill; all Tori knew in that moment was that she hated him for it.
“There’s cheap pisswater and non-dairy creamer in the office. My body will not accept any imitators today; only the real deal is going to get me moving.” Tori tapped her finger carefully on the car’s clock. “We’re still twenty minutes early, and the office is literally across the street. I’m on my time, and I’d like to spend it funneling caffeine down my throat so I don’t fall asleep at my desk.”
The traffic light changed, and Ivan pulled the car forward. Making a split-second decision, he eased over into a free parking spot and motioned to the door. “Don’t be late, and drink as much as you need to be functional. We’re coming up on quarterly reviews, so there’s a lot to get done.”
“Yeah, yeah, when isn’t there?” Tori popped the door open, unbuckled her seat belt, and slid out of the car before Ivan could change his mind. No sooner had the door shut than Ivan pulled back into the street, going all of thirty feet before taking the left turn into the company parking lot. While the sudden movement made her headache a bit worse, the fresh air filling her lungs helped her feel awake for the first time all morning.
Downtown Ridge City was a lovely place; the city went to great pains to make it that way. Carefully chosen trees were spaced out along the sidewalk, shading the dozens of corporate drones walking to their offices in the early morning sunlight. All of them wore slacks, polos, or suits like Tori’s, and despite the fact that it was Monday morning, some had even donned smiles as well. The good mood was so contagious that Tori allowed herself a slight smirk of her own as she pushed open the front door of Ridge City Grinders.
The place had cleaned up nicely since the night of the confluence, or what almost everyone in town thought of as ‘the big-ass storm’. While Ridge City Grinders had been flooded and lost most of its windows, there had only been a short delay before it reopened. In a town with this many capes, collateral d
amage was bound to happen, and as a result, people were used to putting things back together. It certainly didn’t hurt that the AHC often funded cleanup efforts after a big bout of destruction.
Tori slipped into line and quickly scanned the board to see what seemed good. With chains, she always knew what she wanted, but in local shops, she tried to explore the specialties. Nothing really caught her eye as the line moved briskly forward, and before she knew it, Tori had arrived at the counter with no idea what she wanted to order.
“Morning!” The perky barista had short bleached-white hair and the name “Chloe” emblazoned on her apron. She was easily the cheeriest person Tori could ever imagine meeting on a Monday, let alone encountering in real life. “What can I get for you?”
“I... uh... shit. I sort of blanked out. What do you recommend?” From over her shoulder, Tori could hear the passive-aggressive shuffling and sighs from the people in line. If she’d been in their position, she’d have done the same, but this was how things were, so they were going to have to deal with it. She needed her damn coffee.
“Well, if you’re looking to really wake up, we do some of the best espresso in the entire town. Smooth and tasty but with enough kick to get your day off right.” Chloe, at least, was unfazed by the grumpiness in the line behind Tori. Tori could only imagine putting up with pissy, under-caffeinated corporate drones all day. She’d probably light someone on fire before the end of her first shift.
“Sounds great. Give me four. To go, please.”
Chloe’s blue eyes widened so much that Tori could make out the lines of her contacts and the telltale stripes of her brown irises underneath. “Are you sure you want that much?”
“I’ve got a good tolerance. Four, to go, please. The name on the order is Tori.” Tori whipped out the debit card tied to her meager bank account and scanned it through the register, pausing to key in a decent tip for the cheerful barista who hadn’t gotten mad at her for holding up the line.