by Drew Hayes
Less than five minutes later, another worker called her name and handed her a tall cup filled with hot brown liquid. Taking a tentative sip, Tori noted that it was scalding hot—not that such things bothered her—but also surprisingly delicious. Usually the espresso she got had an acrid, harsh taste, but this one was mellowed out. From the way her heart rate increased the moment the first drop hit her tongue, it still had the expected kick too.
Tori lifted her cup to Chloe as she headed out the door, and the blonde barista replied with a big smile and a wave. All in all, it was a pleasant start to a Monday. Tori headed toward the office feeling hopeful that just maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad day after all.
* * *
Unnoticed by Tori as she walked from Ridge City Grinders to her office building, a blue sedan sat in front of a recently-expired meter. Its occupants noted her approach to the building just as they’d taken down all the comings and goings for the last several weeks. Ten years earlier, such behaviors might have seemed suspicious, but these days, three men in suits typing away on laptops just looked like a group that was trying to finish up a presentation before it was due. No one walking through downtown spared them more than a passing glance, forgetting about the men inside almost as soon as the sedan faded from view.
“Has the girl ever stopped for coffee before?” The man in the driver seat watched Tori make her way briskly across the street, gleefully chugging a beverage that he had no idea would scorch the roof of anyone else’s mouth.
“Not since we’ve been watching.” This came from the thinner man on the passenger side. He held a laptop on his... well, lap, with a spreadsheet program open. On it he noted the time Tori entered the building, next to a small note that she’d stopped for coffee, breaking her established pattern.
“Unexpected, but there’s always going to be a few variables that are impossible to account for,” Driver remarked. “On the whole, it looks like morning is still going to be our best window.”
“Oh, come on, guys. Who does this kind of shit in the morning? Nighttime, that’s when it’ll look the coolest.” These remarks came from the wide-shouldered man in the back seat who leaned forward and rested his elbows on either side of the center console. “We want to be taken seriously, don’t we? We need to make sure this comes off as fucking sweet as possible.”
Passenger punched in a few more keystrokes while Driver scanned the street, both of them doing their best to ignore Back Seat. Neither of them had been particularly happy about adding him to their plans, but there was no help for it. Annoying as he was, Back Seat was necessary if they wanted to succeed. After all, only an idiot went into an operation like this without a contingency plan for meta-humans. The damn things could hide in plain sight; anyone from the girl at the coffee shop to that nerdy red-headed programmer slipping in the building’s side door could be one. It was impossible to tell, so the only sensible thing to do was to make sure they had one on hand.
“The slacking copper-top makes up the last of the early morning group,” Passenger noted. “About fifteen people will be on the Vendallia Industries’ floor for the next twenty minutes. After that, the rest of the staff arrives to barely make it in on time.”
“So this is our window. Get in and get things secured while the number is small enough to deal with.” Driver carefully rested his hands against the wheel, thinking all the possibilities through. “Any variations in the last week?”
“Aside from the coffee, only minor ones,” Passenger confirmed. “This timeframe is going to be our best shot.”
A loud groan came from behind them and both men resisted the urge to turn their heads. “Seriously? This early? Fine, whatever, but this isn’t going to impress anyone.” Back Seat removed his elbows and leaned back, his sizable frame barely contained by the sedan’s rear. “Should we just go do this thing, then?”
At last, Driver turned around to face the car’s third member, a scowl visible even behind the designer sunglasses on his face. “We are most certainly not going to ‘just do this thing,’ either today or when the time comes. This is a carefully planned, formulated strike, and under no circumstances will we burst in there without proper preparation. Now that we know the best time to work in, we’ll need to gather supplies, which will take—”
“About three days,” Passenger interjected.
“About three days.” Driver glanced away from Back Seat, staring at Passenger, who was still clacking away on his laptop. “Wait, really? Only three days?”
“I did most of the groundwork in advance. All that’s left is to make and fill the orders… about three days. Which is good; we want to work as soon as possible, while our data is still fresh. If we wait, things might change.”
“Huh.” Driver swung around to Back Seat, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Okay then, looks like we’ll be doing this in three days. Try to constrain yourself until then.”
“You’re the boss,” Back Seat replied, using a tone that made it clear that while his words might be technically true, neither he nor anyone else believed them.
Driver ignored it, turning back to the steering wheel and twisting the ignition key. With a quick change of gears, he sped off into the street, narrowly avoiding the parking attendant who’d been coming over to write them up for the expired meter.
* * *
“Uuuuuugggghhhhhhh.” The half-grunted moan came from Tori’s lips as her head rested heavily on her desk. Her good mood and sense of optimism had both evaporated along with the caffeine high from her espresso. Several cups of the office coffee had allowed her to keep trudging along, but by the time she’d finally gotten enough time to eat lunch, she was seriously beginning to wonder if maybe it wouldn’t be better to torch the office and just deal with the guild’s retribution. The sole bright spot in her day had been getting the bank alert that Beverly had transferred over half of the weekend’s winnings.
What Ivan had failed to tell her about “quarterly review week” was that the workload quintupled as they prepared charts, reports, and endless graphs explaining what they’d spent the last three months doing, all while performing the actual work for which the department was responsible. Adding on to that were the interviews every employee had to go through where they ensured they’d hit all their targets and sett new goals for the coming quarter. For most of the staff, those meetings were just one annoying hour. For management and management’s overworked assistant, they ate up more time than a watch-devouring goblin.
“And miles to go before you sleep.” Donald peered over from the slim wall that divided their desks and threw her a look of pity. He’d taken his own lunch hours before, as had most of the people not completely bogged down in the miasma that was quarterly reviews. “On the upside, they only make you do this once every three months, and it usually only lasts a week.”
“Oh no. Fuck that. Fuck a whole wet sloppy mess of that. Next quarter, I am at least not going to be dealing with the management side of this.” Tori lifted her head off the desk, bloodshot eyes brimming with determination. “If nothing else, I will be a regular employee and only have to deal with the simple side of things.”
“Well, that’ll be pretty easy to manage.” Donald reached over to her keyboard and struck a few keys, quickly pulling up the company’s home site. “Vendallia keeps an internal job board just for the employees to use. We’re supposed to choose career paths and work toward them, so this lets us see what’s available and what it takes to make it there; that way we can tailor our resume to fit it.”
“That’s surprisingly helpful,” Tori said, skimming through the listings at the top of the page. Most of them demanded more formal education than she had, though a few allowed for time at the company and the passing of skill tests in place of a degree.
“Training costs money and lowers efficiency,” Donald replied. “If they can keep everyone in-house instead of letting them learn skills and get recruited away, it works out better for the bottom line in the long-term. Nothing like dangling a
carrot to keep us plodding along, you know?”
“Mmhmm.” Her eyes kept flitting through the jobs one by one. Management was out of the question—she did not want to deal with these reviews again, and besides, they all demanded at least five years with Vendallia before one could even apply. The tech jobs, on the other hand, were well within her skill-level. Heck, she’d likely have to pretend to be worse than she was just to avoid arousing suspicion.
Donald leaned back, putting himself more in his cubicle than hers. “I’m glad to see you’re thinking about staying. Be nice to still have a friendly face around, even after your internship is over.”
“Oh. Right.” Tori’s hand stopped, finger frozen just above the mouse. Right... this was supposed to be temporary. She was only working here because of Ivan. Her apprenticeship, and therefore her internship, would end when she made it into the guild. After that, she wasn’t required to work a regular job anymore. Granted, no one had told her what the other choices were, but she assumed they existed.
For the first time since Tori had been told she was in a “pass or die” situation, her mind turned to what would come after graduation. Could she work on her inventions in peace? Would she be required to participate in heists? Was there a crime quota? She’d been so focused on making it across the finish line, she’d never bothered to ask if the road on the other side was even paved.
Suddenly, the rest of the day’s meetings were no longer the most bothersome thing on her mind.
Chapter 29
“A quota? Like, we make you mug so many people in a week? No, the guild doesn’t impose a mugging quota.”
Ivan set down Tori’s plate across from her, the pork loin still steaming as butter from the peas melted against its side. He lowered his own dish too, piled high with food that Tori had quickly learned only represented a fraction of what had been cooked. The man could eat, there was no question about that, and as he took his seat across from her at the dinner table, his fork was already in his hand to do precisely that.
“Obviously not a mugging quota. I just meant...” Tori waved her hand through the air in wide, vaguely circular motions. “I don’t know, some allotment of crime we had to fulfill. It is a guild of villains and criminals, after all.”
“No, it is a guild of people who do not always enjoy the confines of the law and who prefer to stay out of jail and the ground.” Ivan sighed then chewed a few bites of food before continuing. “Crimes are committed by members of the guild and organized on guild premises, but in case it has slipped your notice, the vast majority of your education has emphasized survival and not getting caught.”
“I’d say you talked more about the code than anything else,” Tori pointed out.
“What did you think I meant by ‘survival’?” Ivan countered.
Tori swallowed; though, to be fair, she had also taken a bite of peas, so it could have been necessity rather than reaction. Either way, Ivan trusted his point was made and decided to put her mind at ease.
“You’re going to learn the specifics this weekend, but essentially the guild functions as an organizer and approver of criminal plans. Someone comes up with an idea, puts together a proposal, runs it by those of us who have the experience to see any potential flaws, ideally receives approval, gathers a team, and then executes their job. At no point in that process is anyone forced to pull capers against their will. We even have an entire department and seat at the council to represent all of those who choose to have no involvement with criminal activity whatsoever.”
“I sort of figured that was something you had to work your way into. Like, put in ten good years, you earn the right to retire,” Tori admitted.
“Not at all. In fact, many of those who make it into the guild immediately put themselves in my department. Remember, Tori, the goal of this organization is not to increase crime: it is to make sure crimes are committed in a way that keeps us protected. Choosing to do nothing doesn’t counter that philosophy, so it’s a perfectly valid choice.”
“I get it. I can opt to do jobs as long as I run them through the guild, or I can work a nine to five like you. The only thing I can’t do is break the code, right?”
Ivan smiled slightly, a rare accompaniment to dinner, and nodded. “That is the sum of it. Upon graduation, the path you choose is up to you, so long as you stay within the guidelines we’ve provided.”
“But I bet I’m going to have to pick up at least a little side work if I’m going to get the parts for my tech or pay off the loaners Doctor Mechaniacal put in the basement.” Tori mulled it over as she chewed her pork. Now that she knew she wouldn’t have to be a criminal, the idea wasn’t nearly as scary. In fact, snatching some extra cash from time to time might be a useful option to have. “Tell me more about how jobs work.”
“I think it can wait until this weekend. In some cases, it’s better to show than tell.” Ivan stood from the table, his plate miraculously clean, and headed for the kitchen. “Can I get you seconds on anything while I’m up?”
“Yeah, peas, please,” Tori called. The mysterious job-talk had her curious, but after weeks with Ivan, she’d learned that when he said no to something, it was fairly permanent. Besides, after the spectacle that had been put on over the last weekend, she probably would rather just see whatever they had planned. Thinking of jobs did raise another concern, however. As Ivan returned with his freshly filled plate along with a bowl of peas for her, she decided that since they were already talking about the future, she may as well push her luck.
“Am I allowed to keep working at Vendallia after my apprenticeship is over? Or is it just a temporary thing, like my living here, and as soon as we’re done I’m going to have to find some new job?”
Ivan stared across at her, his plate rattling slightly as he set it on the table. For a second, Tori couldn’t read his expression, and then she realized why. She’d caught Ivan by surprise, which meant he was making a face she rarely got to see.
“To be honest, it never occurred to me that you’d want to,” Ivan said at last. “Your work is fine, but you’ve never shown any interest in the company as a whole.”
“I work in a cubicle farm for a faceless corporation. How much interest were you expecting to see?”
“Right around the exact amount you’ve shown, hence why I assumed you’d want to move on when your time was done,” Ivan told her.
“Okay, I guess that’s a fair point.” Tori dragged her fork through the bowl of peas Ivan had brought out, trying to find the right way to phrase her curiosity. “I don’t love it there or anything, but maybe it’s not as bad as I’d thought. Well, except this week. This week is fucking awful. Overall, though, it’s not such a terrible place to be. And if I wanted to keep at it, maybe even apply for a real job where I made good money and got to use my brain, I just wanted to know if that was on the table.”
A slight clink filled the air as Ivan set his fork down, nicking the side of his plate in the process. “Tori Rivas is an employee of Vendallia Industries. Your identity is on file there. Your social security number. Your face on the badge. Tori Rivas, not my apprentice. Assuming your performance reviews are satisfactory and you don’t do anything to get fired, there’s nothing to stop you from staying with the company, regardless of role.” Ivan picked his silverware back up but held it gently in his hand, not yet turning it on the food that still remained.
“That is the benefit of having an identity outside your guild one. That is why I forced you to be an intern in the first place. You have a place in the real, normal world now, and it’s one that no one in the guild has the right to take away from you. They only have power over Apprentice, not Tori.”
“Unless I fuck up and they kill me,” Tori added, eating a forkful of peas to punctuate the statement.
“In that case, I would say Apprentice had to die and Tori was unfortunate collateral damage. But you’ve made it this far despite what others might have thought. Perhaps you should continue thinking about your future, lest it blind
side you when the time comes. Oh, and pick a code name early on. Ever since Johnny slipped his through, we made the approval process more rigorous.”
Tori snorted in spite of herself and barely managed not to spit peas across the table.
* * *
“Ren, my man, just the animal-human hybrid I was hoping to find.”
Apollo slipped a friendly arm part of the way around Ren Tanaka’s giant shoulders, somehow managing to hold on to his aura of authority even as he was dwarfed by the creature Ren had become. Scales had sprouted beneath his initial fur, and a long tail with a razor-sharp blade at the end swung freely from his rear. He’d also grown slightly, albeit more outward than upward as his already muscular, inhuman body easily packed on mass.
Around the break room, the other rookies shot them both dirty looks as Apollo led Ren into the hallway. In the past few weeks, it had become all too clear who the most powerful of the new recruits were, and the older capes hadn’t bothered to hide the favoritism the frontrunners were receiving. These were the top choices, the first draft, and they wanted to keep them all happy enough to stick around.
For his part, Ren ignored the mutterings and glares, even though he could hear their movements so well he could even hear their displeasure in the creaking of their bones and blood. Adapting to his new senses had been one of the hardest parts of the transition, but after Data Mine created a special chamber to cut him off from the world when he slept, the worst was over.
“Ren, it’s time we swing by the office of some people you’re going to love because they make sure everyone else loves you.” Apollo was as confident as ever as he guided the hulking giant through the spacious halls, made extra-large specifically for people like Ren. He beamed at everyone they passed, pearly white smile and golden glow both as intoxicating as ever. It was bullshit, obviously—no one was that cheery all of the time—but it was the sort of bullshit that was hard to call someone out on. There was no way to say a person was too cheerful without coming off as an asshole. Ren should know; he’d racked his brain trying to come up with a way.