Forging Hephaestus (Villains' Code Book 1)

by Drew Hayes

  “Where are we going?” Despite still having full use of his cognitive faculties (Ren was in fact starting to suspect that he’d gotten smarter), talking was still something of an ordeal. His tongue was wide and flat, not quite suited for making words as much as it was for cleaning his fur. But over the weeks he’d learned to manage basic communication, though every word took such focus and effort to pull out that these days he spoke briefly when he spoke at all.

  “Why, right here!” Apollo let go of Ren’s shoulders and pulled open the door to a large conference room. Standing inside were a man and a woman wearing matching dark colors in their professional clothing who stood as soon as they saw Ren. It wasn’t a fearful leap. It was a respectful rising to acknowledge that he’d entered the room, and Ren found himself oddly appreciating it.

  “Meet Jessica and Barney, the Alliance of Heroic Champions’ top image consultants,” Apollo explained quickly, shutting the door and slipping into a cushy leather chair. There was one next to him that was identical save for the fact that it was three times as large and no doubt heavily reinforced. Ren sat down in it as quietly as he could manage, sliding his bladed tail through a small slit in the back.

  “And we are just thrilled to meet you,” Jessica said, a slight southern twang under her sophisticated voice. Ren wasn’t sure if anyone else could hear it or not; he was still working out just how different his senses had become.

  “Sure are. Why, everyone we’ve met just tells us the best things about you.” Barney was the first person Ren had ever met whose wide smile and ample enthusiasm matched Apollo’s. He didn’t quite have the act down as well, though, and Ren could see the small ways it was already wearing on him. Hopefully that would at least mean this was a short meeting.

  “See, Ren, since we all know you’ve got what it takes to make it here at the AHC, I thought we should get a jump on everything so that once it becomes official, you can be ready to go,” Apollo said. “And the first thing we have to nail down for any worthwhile superhero is their name.”

  Jessica and Barney both nodded along as Barney pulled a stack of files from his briefcase. “Given your imposing looks, we felt it was important to find a name that captures the essence of who you are while also making you accessible to a family-friendly audience,” he told those around the table. “After several focus groups and some market testing, we got it down to a few.”

  “First off was Chimera,” Jessica said, picking up smoothly where Barney left off. She snagged a paper and laid it down. The name and a graph of marketing data filled the page. “Now, technically there was already a Chimera back in the pre-AHC days. But since he died before any solid trademarks were filed and since chimeras are creatures of legend, we felt it would be an easy win, legally speaking. The problem is that Chimera doesn’t test very friendly, and it’s a bit on-the-nose given your powers.”

  “After that, we were leaning toward Grendel, an obvious allusion to Beowulf and well within the public domain; however, after seeing the test scores, we decided that we could do better. We could get you something that the people loved.”

  Ren could hear Barney’s heart speed up as he finished his sentence, followed by Jessica’s as she prepared to talk. This was the name they were really trying to sell him on; their bodies were giving away the nerves that their smiling faces masked. He wished they’d just hurry it up. Teeing up two toss-outs just to make him more receptive might be good for sales, but it was a pain in the ass to sit through.

  “After going back to the drawing board, talking with some experts, and really poring through the people’s reactions, we finally found what we were looking for.” Jessica tossed down the paper, which, to her credit, did boast a graph showing far better numbers than either of the other two.

  “Med-ley?” Ren asked, sounding out the word as he read it from the top of the page.

  “That’s right, Medley. A mixture of many things, but in a way that’s harmonious,” Barney said. “I have to tell you, people really reacted well to that name. It made them feel good, safe, and as though the person sporting it was someone to be trusted.”

  Both of them were staring at Ren now, fake smiles and eager eyes waiting to hear if they were going to have to spend more time on this kid who wasn’t even fully in the AHC yet. Next to them was Apollo, who Ren found impossible to read, grinning in his own more practiced way.

  The name was fucking stupid; there was no way they didn’t know that. Ren looked like he’d escaped from a deranged zookeeper’s nightmare, so they were trying to pin the most milquetoast name possible on him to balance out his image. He could still say no if he wanted to. He could tell them to take a flying fuck at the moon, pack his shit, and be out the door. But then what? His old life, his old body, all of it was gone. Ren Tanaka was dead in every way that mattered. This was his new world, his new life. What did it matter that the name was stupid? If it made some kid he pulled out of harm’s way a little less scared, then that was worth it.

  “Medley,” Ren said again, this time getting the word out in one go. “I like it.”

  The wave of relief from Jessica and Barney was so tangible it nearly pushed Ren’s chair back from the table.

  Chapter 30

  It was probably a good thing Ivan had forced Tori to get her sporadic heat bursts under control, because by the time Wednesday afternoon rolled around, she was so worn out and annoyed that half the office would have been suffering from heat stroke. As she marched down the dingily-carpeted hallway, a stack of files that it really would have made more sense to move digitally filling her hands, Tori kept focusing on not letting her frustration roll off her in palpable ways. Her morning espresso from Ridge City Grinders had already stayed hot in her hand much longer than it should have, so she was being extra careful.

  “Delivery of more cr—stuff,” Tori announced, barely stopping herself as she remembered they were in the Vendallia offices, not at home or the guild. Ivan either didn’t notice the near slip or, most likely, chose to let it slide as he continued working on the small mountain of paperwork at his desk. He did pause his pen, but only long enough to motion to a free area on a filing cabinet where Tori could put the pages.

  “And with this done, I am officially taking a coffee break.” Tori set the pages down carefully, all too aware of how much time had gone into getting them properly organized and unwilling to do such a tedious job over again.

  “Try to keep it in the building, there’s still more to do.”

  “Hey, how I take my fifteen minutes is up to me. If you insist on having me do all this junk, the least I can do for my tired body is fill it with caffeine that doesn’t taste like forgotten dumpster water,” Tori replied.

  Ivan looked up from the pages and glared at her, then slowly shut his eyes in resignation. “Vendallia policy is that you can go off-site if you so desire, so long as you’re back at your station when the fifteen minutes are up, which I will check to ensure is the case.”

  “Deal!” Tori spun on her heel and was halfway out of the office before Ivan’s voice called her back in.

  “If I may ask, is the coffee over there really so much better than what we keep on hand?”

  “As long as it’s not counting against my fifteen minutes, you can ask me anything you like, boss.” Tori stayed partway out the door, making it clear what her answer would be if she was talking through her break time. Ivan gave her a nod and motioned her back inside. She happily complied: any non-break time not spent working on quarterly reviews was fine by her.

  “Yes, Mr. Gerhardt, the coffee over there is a lot better than what we stock. More varieties, more flavor, and just an all-around better product. The discount store barrel stuff they buy us here is probably great for the bottom line, but you can’t really expect it to compete with the real deal.”

  Lowering his pen again, Ivan began scrawling something once more. For a second, Tori thought the meeting was over, but then Ivan ripped the sheet of paper off the notepad he’d been writing on and held it up
.

  “Take my company card and get me this order, please, along with whatever else you were going to get. Also, see if they do catering work, and if possible, grab a sheet with their prices and hours. I realize this will take longer than fifteen minutes, and as such, I won’t be counting the coffee run as your break time.” Ivan pulled his credit card out from his pocket and offered it to Tori along with the paper in his hand.

  “What’s with the sudden interest in java?” Tori quickly grabbed both items as she spoke, not about to give him the chance to change his mind. Free coffee and an actual break when she returned? This was, sadly, going to be the highlight of her day.

  “Everyone has been working hard for the quarterly reviews, and I’d like to thank my department with a treat on Friday to celebrate reaching the end of things. I was planning on just getting donuts, but there’s probably enough room in my discretionary budget to squeeze in some coffee too. Assuming it’s as good as you say it is, I think it will do wonders to help lift people’s spirits.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll have Chloe make sure to hook you up with the good stuff.”

  Before Ivan could point out that he actually wanted to taste what their average product was like, Tori was out the door, this time determined to get clear before he could stop her. Ivan stared at the empty door for several seconds then turned his attention to the massive pile of work still looming before him. He really hoped the coffee turned out to be worthwhile. Tori wasn’t the only one who could use a pick-me-up today.

  * * *

  Tori took her time heading across the street to Ridge City Grinders, a stark contrast to the brisk pace she would have used if she were on her actual break time. Her mind was filled with thoughts of wonderful caffeine and curiosity over what the weekend would hold when she was back at the guild. No matter how torturous it might be, there was no way it could compete with quarterly reviews. That much was obvious.

  She was so distracted by her musings that Tori didn’t notice the three men sitting in a sedan with open Chinese food containers on the dash, as they appeared to be nothing more than workers enjoying a quick lunch. Had she paid more attention, it might have struck her that this car had been parked around the area an awful lot.

  “That Mexican gal sure does drink a lot of coffee,” Back Seat noted as they watched Tori head in and greet Chloe with a wave.

  “Pretty sure the term is Hispanic,” Driver corrected, barely looking up from his container of noodles and pork.

  “Actually, I believe in recent years the more acceptable phrase has shifted to Latino or Latina, depending on the person’s gender,” Passenger pointed out. “Though Dirk would actually be in the right with Mexican, assuming he had knowledge that she was from Mexico.”

  “Hey, I’ve got a question: why do either of you give a shit?” Dirk, the man previously known as Back Seat, laid his sizable arms on the seats of his companions, making his weight felt so he couldn’t be ignored.

  “Saying it wrong just sounds ignorant. We might be robbers, but we’re not assholes. Do you want to be like that cape who flies around in the mechanical Klan suit?” Driver said.

  “Shit, man, I was just asking. Don’t put me in the same league as the Whitest Knight.” Dirk pulled away and rested his back against the rear of the seat, causing the car’s suspension to shift visibly from the outside. “I’m just bored back here. We already know the schedule, why aren’t we busting in and getting things done?”

  “Because it’s not Friday, when we’ll have all the gear we need,” Passenger informed him. “So our time is best spent acquiring as much information as we can. The better we know the people who’ll be in the building, the easier it will be to handle them. Besides, if any of them happen to be metas, there’s always the off-chance that they’ll slip up and show us their powers.”

  “Though I think Abner is being pretty hopeful with that one,” Driver added. “Then again, we did have that freak storm a few weeks back. Never know who might be still figuring their shit out.”

  Dirk chuckled and tried to pop his knuckles, though he only succeeded in producing weak sounds from the middle and index finger of his right hand. “Don’t you worry about that, Nelson. I’ve had years to learn how to handle myself. No newly-turned meta is going to be a challenge for me.”

  Abner sighed from his spot in the passenger seat and made a few clicks on the keyboard. “A new meta would be fine. We have to worry about someone with actual practice hiding among them. Though, given that we’re expecting a staff of maybe fifteen during our operational window, the odds of that are staggeringly low. The chances of anyone in that building having meta powers are practically zero, especially ones strong enough to interfere with our plans. No one with any real juice would spend their time working in a dreary office.”

  Abner didn’t know it, but in a way, he was dead right. On the day of their heist, there would not be one meta in the offices of Vendallia Technologies with them.

  There would be four.

  * * *

  When Beverly had gotten the offer to stay on guild premises during her apprenticeship, she’d immediately steeled herself for a worst case scenario. Her parents, both Marines, had told Beverly enough stories about their time in boot camp to give their daughter a healthy fear and respect of the lifestyle. Since that was the military and these were freaking villains, Beverly had gone in expecting to get a cot, a toothbrush, and a communal shower if she was lucky. What Beverly had failed to take into account was that criminals often turn to such activities to feed their hunger for a life of luxury, and in a guild full of them, that nature tended to impact how rooms were designed.

  Her shower complete, Beverly changed into a t-shirt and yoga pants and tossed the damp towel into the laundry hamper, where it would vanish in the morning only to be replaced with a fluffy new one by lunch. The steam from her bathroom, small but private, was still wafting into her room as she slipped into the hallway. Shutting the door on her bed, computer, television, and moderately-sized bookshelf, Beverly charted a course for the nearest communal area. When she first arrived, they were places she had avoided, but once she realized no one was going to jump out and attack her, Beverly had grown bolder. Besides, after the weekend she’d had, it was becoming clear just how important making friends could be.

  The break room on their floor was ostensibly only for rookies who hadn’t yet made the cut. As such, it was more sparsely furnished than the ones she’d seen on other floors: just a pool table, foosball table, game rack, big flat screen, Indigo Gamesystem 4, couch, recliners, stove, oven, fridge, and pair of vending machines with sodas and snacks. Because this room was often without occupants, many of the other villains still ducked in out of habit. Plus, the sodas in the machine were only a quarter, which Beverly was pretty certain made it the last of its kind in the known world.

  This evening, she could hear the sounds of explosions echoing down the hall long before she set foot inside. Sure enough, perched on the couch with a controller in one hand and a bag of chips in the other was Lance, whose on-screen avatar was shot in the head just as Beverly got a good look at the screen. A respawn counter popped up and Lance set down the controller, turning toward the soda machine and finally noticing Beverly.

  “Hey! What’s up?” He hopped off the couch and practically threw a quarter into the soda machine. He grabbed the resulting root beer and raced back before the counter ran down.

  “Not much. You playing with Arachno Bro again?” Unlike rookies, Arachno Bro had an IG4 in his room and played via online hook-up. At first, Beverly had taken it as an antisocial way to game until Lance explained that Arachno Bro had to use a specially-designed controller due to his arachnoid hands and was a bit self-conscious about it.

  “We’ve got Xelas on too, though to be honest, I’m not sure if she even uses a controller. I swear I saw her walk by when her character was taking out an enemy sniper.” Lance popped the top on his drink, grabbed his controller, and waded back into the action as his
muscular, gun-toting avatar reappeared on screen. “But man, this is a tough match. Most of the others are good, but they’ve got one guy who—motherfucker!”

  On-screen, a creature that looked like a teddy bear mixed with a lizard darted by, not even pausing as it shot Lance’s tough guy straight through the skull. A new respawn counter appeared, and Beverly fought to resist the urge to chuckle as Lance seethed at the screen.

  “I don’t know who Don Doomald is, but I wish I could send a swarm of bees to that dude’s house. He is freaking tough. They just opened up the shooter arenas in Legacy World, and the damn guy plays like he’s been doing it for years.”

  “Maybe he does a lot of shooter games,” Beverly pointed out. She pulled a half-eaten sandwich out of the fridge and plopped down next to Lance. Oddly, no one had ever touched her food, even when she left it in the communal area. She wasn’t sure if it was courtesy or just pragmatism (not everyone ate things that were technically “food”), but she appreciated it all the same.

  “Please. I’ve played my way through every game in the Blaster Brah series twice; that wouldn’t account for this kind of skill. Besides, judging by his level and gear, this guy is dedicated to the MMO. The expansion only came out a couple weeks ago, and he’s already at max level and wielding a top-tier staff of explosions. This is someone who has logged more hours on this game than Thuggernaut has at the gym.”

  “That’s not a hard bar to hit; Thuggernaut doesn’t go to the gym much. His muscles are just a power side effect,” Beverly informed him.

  “Well, just pretend I said something more fitting then, because I’m going back in.” Lance held his controller at the ready as the timer ticked away once more. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes, ready for the instant his character reappeared. The time came at last. His avatar lifted what looked like a steampunk rocket launcher high on his shoulder and raced across the forest map they were playing on, big legs pumping and camera spinning as he searched for a target. It was thanks to the spinning camera that Lance caught sight of the teddy bear/lizard just before his character’s head was separated from his shoulders.