Night of Ice and Fire
The day of the heist saw me driving back to Dolly’s lab alone. I told Glacia yesterday to rest up, but I knew she wouldn’t. Everyone got excited at their first taste of true villainy. It was like plotting a murder crossed with Christmas Morning. And if you were the Holiday Bomber, it was even more so.
And I had to admit, the excitement was a bit infectious. As I parked my Civic and got out, it was with a bubbling anticipation. I headed straight through the old factory to where Dolly’s lab was and hit the elevator button.
The eye winked open and Dolly’s chirpy voice came clear through. “Victor!” she cried. “There you are. Come on in!”
I rode the elevator down, and no sooner had the doors opened than Dolly had flung herself around my waist, hugging my tightly. I endured it. I’m not terribly touchy-feely, comes with the territory of people either wanting to kill you or beat the hell out of you, but Dolly insisted on these sorts of things whenever I came by, and I was willing to tolerate it today. Because it was going to be a very big day.
“Mmmm. Nice muscle tone. You been working out?” Dolly said as she gave me a squeeze, nuzzling my chest.
“You know I do,” I said with mock exasperation.
“Sure I do! But I love to hear it. Can I come watch you some time? I loooove to see the human body in action.”
She gave me a wink that implied a great number of things. But I was in a rush today. Besides, I didn’t want to give Dolly too much. You had to be careful with mad scientists. One minute you’re giving them the ride of their life, the next you’re strapped to an operating table as their new test subject. And again, I didn’t date inside the industry. Too much baggage, and Dolly likely didn’t just have skeletons in her closet, but a whole damn graveyard.
“I really just came by to pick up the suits,” I told her.
“Sure! Sure. Of course you did. And visiting this pretty sheep was just a bonus, right? Ha! Of course I’m right.”
“Do you have the suits?” I asked.
“Please! Of course I do!” she said with an errant motion. Mechanical arms whirred around the room, one dipping low, depositing a suitcase of gleaming metal into Dolly’s hand. She planted it on a table and popped it open, showing me a number of neatly folded bundles of clothing.
I picked out one and lifted it up, examining it. Not bad. Not bad. It had the look of a heavy winter parka, all blue with white trim. Fur collar and a pair of winter goggles, along with an appropriately anonymous ski mask.
“And the sticks conveniently extend,” Dolly said.
I took one of the rods out and pressed a button on the handle. With a snapping sound it extended, the blade of a hockey stick jutting out from the peak. I gave it a practice swing and it made an appropriate swishing sound in the air. Hilariously impractical, but it would do the job, and I’d make sure the Steve’s had a couple of guns as well. Loaded with blanks, of course, but appropriately intimidating. The sticks were mostly for show and to maybe whack a few idiots who try and get in the way.
“Nice job,” I said, retracting the stick with another press and stowing it back in the case.
“Anytime! But uh, could you say that again?”
“Again?”
“Yeah,” Dolly said, digging her toe into the floor shyly. “And um, pat my head too? Maybe stroke my wool a bit and call me a good girl?”
I rolled my eyes but smiled. The things I did for villainy.
I reached out, patting the downy softness of her crimped hair, stroking it gently. “Great work, Dolly. I couldn’t be happier.”
“Oooohoooh…” Dolly cooed, shivering with delight, nibbling on her lower lip and blushing hard. I tried not to show how turned on I was at the sight. Dolly had that effect on me, that was for sure, and she wasn’t shy about it. If I wasn’t worried about ending up on her examination table…
I removed my hand and Dolly took a shuddering breath, seeming to shake off the momentary ecstasy. “Oh! Y-yeah. I almost forgot. I fixed up your suit!” Dolly said, capering back to the workbench. As she drew near a drawer hissed open, revealing the rings of metal that hid the armour I wore. She pulled them out and trotted back towards me, holding them out with a proud grin.
“Here you go! All buffed and tuned up. You sure you don’t want me to put in some strength enhancing servos? I’ll make it cheap!”
“Dolly,” I said, taking the bracers. “The last time I let you tinker with my suit, it came with a massive codpiece.”
“I had to fit the extra battery somewhere,” Dolly said impishly. “And I didn’t hear any complaints from Astral Gal. I remember that fight. She could barely keep her eyes off you!”
Dolly giggled and I gave her a look, pulling the bracers and ankle metal on. The neckpiece was the last, and I have to say, it felt good to have the suit back on. It’s not like I felt naked without it, but it felt comforting to have the gear ready to deploy. I did know some heroes and villains who stayed in costume all the time, and in fact can’t even get it up without the whole ensemble on. It’s weird, but some people are way too into this whole thing.
“Thanks again, Dolly,” I said. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“Any time. Stay safe out there, stud!” Dolly said, waving farewell.
I tipped my head to her as I returned to the elevator, shooting up to the ground floor. I tossed the case with the uniforms into the back of my car and pulled out of the decaying industrial heart, hitting the freeway once more and aiming straight for Glacia’s building.
Arriving in good time, I once more got the evil eye from the doorman while I waited. Glacia emerged quickly, hurrying across the sidewalk and fairly jumping into the car with me. She took in my monkey suit thoughtfully.
“Don’t like it?” I asked.
“N-no, sir. That’s not it. It just… well, doesn’t seem to suit you,” she said.
I had to agree with her. These kinds of clothes were never really ‘me’. A lot of guys can wear a suit effortlessly, but I never got a good feeling for them. I wore them so rarely, but Julia had one delivered to me that morning. Honestly, I’d almost forgotten to get one, and I admit I felt a little suspicious about how Carter got my measurements so accurately. Yet even perfectly fitted I felt uncomfortable in it. Too formal for me. I’m more used to capes, metal, and helmets.
But nothing for it. I pulled out from in front of the building as twilight began to stretch its shadows over the world, the streetlights coming on slowly, the glow from shop windows fluttering among the rows of glittering skyscrapers and the tick tack toe glow from late workers in office buildings.
Traffic got dense the closer we got to the museum, and I had to pull over and park in front of a McDonald’s, the glow of the golden arches almost painfully bright to look at. I shut the door and walked Glacia towards the museum proper. Not far from it we shifted directions and slipped into the alley running behind the building.
Six figures lounged within, all dressed in such a motley variety of clothes it looked like they’d raided a goodwill. Which was about right. Steve never bothered giving his boys anything matching or particularly coordinated, which left them looking like a rejected gang from the Warriors. As we came near they stirred, the ones squatting against the wall standing up. Six identical faces turned to us, which made Glacia pause, clearly disconcerted. I didn’t blame her. Seeing so many clones of one person threw most people.
“Eyyyy, what? Never met sextuplets before?” one of the Steve’s said, grinning.
“I doubt many people have,” I said, passing the Steve the case. The others crowded around as they opened it up and picked out the uniforms.
“Eyyyy. Not bad,” Steve said.
“I like the hockey stick,” Steve added.
“Oooh, lovin’ the masks. Very thematic,” Steve also said.
“Always the good hench gear with you,” Steve said, tipping a fedora with a leopard print band at me.
“Only the best,” I said. “Get in gear, boys. We’ve got a big night.”
I left them to it. We’d have looked pretty weird, I had to say. A man in a suit, a woman in a long winter coat in the dead of summer, and six identical men stripping and putting on arctic uniforms. But in this city, shit like that barely registered on the radar for ‘weird’. Hell, Metro City still had phonebooths all over town, not because anyone needed them to make a call, but because a number of heroes still used them to change. And junkies to shoot up in, I supposed, but so it goes.
“Nervous?” I asked Glacia.
“No, sir,” she said at once.
I gave her the once over, and knew she was lying. Her hands were clenched so tight at her sides the knuckles were whiter than usual. But the last thing she needed was me to point it out. “You’ll do great,” I said. “You’ve got a good handle on your powers, your henchmen know exactly what they’re supposed to do and are utter professionals. And I’ll be there just in case,” I added.
Glacia nodded, taking a deep breath, and I was relieved to see a bit of the tension loosen from her jaw. “Yes,” she said, looking back to me with a smile. “Yes. You’re right, sir. I’ll make you proud.”
For a moment I was shocked at how pretty she looked. I cleared my throat and glanced away. “Y-yeah. Of course you will. Listen,” I said, checking my watch. “I gotta get in there and work the crowd a bit. Don’t forget to make your entrance big. Make it loud. And make it villainous!”
“Yes sir!” she said, straightening as if she were about to salute, then thought better of it.
I left her before it could get awkward, leaving the alley and heading around to the entrance of the museum.
Rich people parties were funny. I’d been part of a number of them, and not always as the guy who blows off the doors and shoots a shotgun into the ceiling. I’d occasionally been invited to schmooze around, and early in my career I actually worked bodyguard at a few events. Those were days I never wanted to go back to. Money makes people strange, and these kinds of parties were swimming in cash.
In essence, you got two kinds. You had Old Money parties, which resemble something from the Great Gatsby, with lots of suits, lots of shiny dresses, and lots of older people you’ll never see in magazines, but who with a word and a gentlemanly shake of hands make the world spin. Those are the more polite, stuffy, solid kinds of parties which usually revolve around charity auctions or that kind of thing. The sorts of people who own their money through investment, real estate, and probably a seat in Davos or the WEF.
Then you have the new money type. Those were typically younger, crazier and much more colourful. Those were the sorts where the press swarm and cameras flash off sequins. Where red carpets were laid out and you wouldn’t be surprised to see someone walk out of a limo naked but for some body paint and maybe a couple diamonds. Celebrities, industry insiders, influencers, people riding those fifteen minutes of fame. Those are the people who need to flaunt their wealth and show it off. By far my least favorite kind of rich person. With old money, you at least knew where you stood. With new money, they thought they’d unlocked some hidden key to the world, and that they understood what’s really going on. That kind are like kids who got a flamethrower for Christmas.
And guess which one the Diamond Exhibition was for?
I dodged around the initial press, the front of the museum lit up with spotlights like they were watching the sky for bombers. Crowds crushed the velvet ropes, trying to get a glimpse of the stunning few who strolled up the carpets to the doors, media reporters shouting questions and names that usually showed up in lights. I slipped around the crowd, up the stairs and through the side. I flashed my invitation to the man at the doors who nodded and waved me in.
So far so good.
Though I’d seen them setting it up, actually coming into the party was something else entirely. The room was filled with globes of light that floated in the air, courtesy of some holographic projectors set up in the corners. Waiters in black and white drifted through the room with trays of drinks and foods, unobtrusive despite the gathering. Huge banners and dividers plastered with the logos of sponsors were all over the place, but the biggest was undoubtedly Razer’s sharp red R. It was absolutely everywhere, even projected atop the sphere above the check in desk, rotating like some menacing mark of domination in a bad cyberpunk reboot.
Well, they paid for the event and the villain, so I guess it was within their right to flaunt it.
People meandered, chatting and laughing, the biggest knot of them near the distant stage where the diamond rested in its holder atop the cushion. A number of the guests had their backs to it, phones upraised, filming themselves for social media.
I snatched a drink off a wandering tray, as well as some of those delightful little sausage things wrapped in batter and likely organic, free trade seaweed. I may have hated these events, but the food never disappointed. I moved slowly through the room, unobtrusive as I could be, sipping my drink as I looked around the place, trying to spot anything that might get in the way of tonight’s performance. The biggest threat was some of the guests. Get enough billionaires together and odds were a few had a personal set of power armour, moonlighted in spandex beating up thugs, or was the member of some cursed bloodline. Mostly though, it looked like just celebs and lots of press types. Which was no surprise. This was meant to be a debut of heroes and villains. Razer would want as many around who could spread the word.
I focused deeper on my powers, feeling the metal around the room. There was a lot of it, but mainly small things. Components in phones, earrings, necklaces, rings. I also picked up a few cybernetics, and made a note to myself to keep an eye on those. Most cyber heroes were run by corporations, but it didn’t feel like too many were here today.
“Enjoying yourself?”
I turned my head to find Carter gliding through the crowd. She looked as stunning as ever, her body tightly bound up in a black dress that pushed up her firm breasts. Her red hair fell tumbling around her shoulders and her eyes were, as ever, masked behind those tinted glasses she always wore.
“Just getting a feel for the place,” I said.
“And how does it feel?” she asked, taking my arm and guiding me forward.
“Feels good. Secure. I think it’ll go well,” I said.
“I mean the party,” she said, her lips shining tantalizingly with lipstick. “You know, if you were willing to join Razer, you could attend events like this all the time. I imagine a great many of our clients would be delighted to meet you. We could even give you a salary worthy of your abilities. Get you out of that cramped apartment.”
“I like my cramped apartment,” I said, maybe a bit too defensively.
“More than a mansion?” she asked.
Well, she had me there. But it was more than the apartment. Looking around the party, I imagined what it would be like to attend events like this. Get paraded around at the beck and call of someone like Carter. Yeah, I’d get plenty of steady money, a mansion, but all those things came with chains. I might only have an apartment and uncertain economic outlook, but I was free to live there, go where I wanted, do what I felt like. The struggle for a decent paycheck kinda sucked, but it would be far worse to be the pet villain of some organization.
“Pass,” I said, taking another drink as we rounded the T-Rex bones, the teeth gleaming with the polished plaster. “But if you have more work for me after this, I’m always willing to hear it out.”
“You’re such a troublesome man,” Carter said, even as she flashed a smile for some passing executives who waved hello to her.
“I am a villain,” I said.
“Hmm. True.”
“How’s your girl?”
“Mysteria? Oh, don’t worry about her,” Carter said, looking away. “She’s all ready.”
I followed her gaze and spotted a young woman among a small crowd near the wall. She was dressed in a showy dress with slitted sides. Maybe eighteen to early twenties, she had bright red hair that tumbled in curls about her shoulders. A phone in hand, she was clearly livestreaming something, chatting and laughing among a bunch of other people doing much the same, soaking up the attention with all the intensity of a born celebrity.
I was a little worried. That kind of hero was generally pretty shit at their jobs. Treated it more like a fame machine than anything else. However, I was grateful to see, Julia was near the girl, the visored secretary hovering near Mysteria’s shoulder and circumspectly keeping an eye on the new heroine.
“But enough about her,” Carter suddenly cut in. “Shall we take a look at the diamond?”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked, even as she steered me towards the stage.
“Of course,” Carter chuckled, leaning in close, her perfume so enticing I almost wondered if she got some botanical villainess to make it for her. “You’re a freelancer. You have nothing but choices.”
I scoffed, but let her guide me to the stage. We moved in close, up to the velvet ropes to see it. I had to admit, it was a beauty. The Ice Diamond was cut gorgeously and gleamed in the white pillar of light projecting down on it. A stone like that would be worth a fortune.
“That is a pricey piece,” I said.
“That’s the idea,” Carter said. “Now, enjoy the event, Victor. Karl! How wonderful to see you. Looking as splendid as always. How’s the new wife?” Carter cried, slipping from my arm to greet a fussy looking man with rangy dark hair and a slick suit.
I let her go, my eyes lingering on her ass only for a moment before returning to the diamond. But that didn’t hold me long. I quickly slipped away, prowling about the room, seeing if anything was out of place, checking the massive clock on the sphere atop the reception desk. Nearly time.
Yet, as I wandered, I felt a curious sense of unease. Like I’d overlooked something obvious. That I didn’t know what that could be only made me more paranoid. I spent what was left of the time checking the upper galleries, especially the balcony that surrounded the room, but nothing there. No snipers. No snoops. No nothing. On the ground floor, the only thing I found suspicious was a couple making out behind one of the pillars. Yet the sensation didn’t go away. And when you spent your days fighting superheroes, territorial villains, and vigilantes, you got used to trusting your instincts.
And mine insisted something was up.
As I stood on the stairs at the rear of the museum’s main hall, wracking my brain for what I’d missed, a sudden chill went right up my spine like someone had taken a frozen knife and scraped it up my back. I turned my head sharply, instantly picking out the cause.
He was an older man. His hair was platinum white, his skin shockingly pale. A thick beard hung down to his chest, his build surprisingly broad and powerful for his age, his face worn by wrinkles and rough as leather. He wore a suit, but it looked strange and out of place on him. Like seeing a tie on a snarling timber wolf.
But it was his eyes that struck me the most. They were the darkest blue I had ever seen. Almost black.
And it was like he was peering into my soul.
My eyes met his, and I stiffened, forcing myself not to deploy my costume, the metal bracers rattling around my wrists and ankles. The man was holding a glass of wine, but he didn’t belong here. He was a man of power unlike the others in this room.
With a sudden booming, the clock struck ten.
Instinctively I looked towards the big clock atop the reception desk, and when I turned back the man was leaving, his back to me, his stride carrying him across the room brusquely. I realized suddenly everything metallic within six feet of me was humming and hastily loosened my power’s hold on it. This wasn’t my scene, I reminded myself. It was Glacia’s.
And it was showtime.
I looked up just as the skylight shattered. People screamed, running as a freezing wind whipped down into the room. Frost crackled across the windows and blistered upon the metal sphere as the glass fell like diamond rain. Most people knew what to do in an event like this, and they hauled those who didn’t to the edges of the room with the sheer press of bodies.
Glacia descended through the shattered skylight, and I felt my heart swell at the sight. Damn but she looked good. Her coat stirring around her, a freezing wind bearing her down like some Valkyrie come from the frozen north to claim her tribute from the battlefield, she looked every inch the villainess she was supposed to be. Her head was tilted back, her eyes hard and gleaming, her hair swirling about her head as she touched down atop the clock, as delicate as a ballerina, as deadly as Russian winter.
“A fine party!” she said, her voice filling the cold air. “But it seems my invitation was lost in the mail. Fortunately,” she said, gesturing towards the main doors. “I let myself in!”
A sweep of ice rushed across the floor, the doors slamming shut and solid ice sealing it tight. Atta girl. Just like we planned it. And right on cue, the emergency exit burst open and the Steves poured in.
They looked suitably thematic and menacing in their heavy jackets, masks and goggles. Their hockey sticks extended with a snapping sound, the group forcing their way through the startled crowd and straight to the Ice Diamond, taking up positions around it.
“Back! Get back!”
“Get the hell back!” another Steve shouted, one of them shooting a blank over his head, the sound of the gunshot doing wonders to move the crowd.
I leaned on the rail, watching intently as the party guests shuffled away. Good. Looked like no one other than the person who was supposed to be wanted to be a hero. I grinned and took another drink, the champagne pleasantly chilled in the freezing air.
Glacia stepped off the orb, floating down. She drifted towards the diamond, the crowd pressing back even further as she landed before the podium. A Steve lifted off the glass dome, and Glacia reached out, picking up the diamond, raising it into the air.
“At last,” she said. “A gem suitably beautiful for the Ice Queen, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, ma’am!” the Steve said immediately.
I chuckled. A bit corny, but hey, that’s the name of the game. I glanced over towards Mysteria, watching for the red haired girl to spring into action.
Except the didn’t happen.
Instead, just as Mysteria took a step forward, the far wall exploded.
My and every other head whipped around as what looked like a meteor blasted through the hole in a shower of flame. It hit the ground with a burst of sparks, and then it unrolled, revealing a man in tight red and white spandex, the symbol of a torch on his chest, his hair a mass of crackling fire.
“Halt, villain!” he shouted, throwing forward a hand, pointing at a dumbfounded Glacia. “Put down that gem and release your hostages! For you face… Heatstroke!”
Stunned silence met this, so profound you could hear a pin drop.
“Oh my fucking God!” I finally hissed.
“Who?” Glacia said blankly, which was fair. This was utterly not what she expected in her big moment, but was hardly the right thing to say.
“You may not know me yet, villain!” Heatstroke shouted, hands on his hips, head thrown back imperiously. “But you shall. And I do not come alone! For with me is the Society of Justice! Behold, the Wrecking Ball!”
“Let’s bust some heads,” a massive man said as he lumbered through the hole, his face covered in a bandana mask, his denim shirt cut off to reveal corded muscles, his fists bigger than shovels as he slammed them together with a sound like a cannon shot.
“The Wizzer!” Heatstroke declared as, with a zip of lightning, a man in skin-tight bright yellow with hermetic wings on his shoes zipped over the rubble to halt beside the flaming hero.
“That’s not my name!” the obvious speedster snapped. “I’m the Lightning Bolt!”
“We couldn’t get the rights to that one,” Heatstroke said. “And finally!” he announced with triumph, “Marvo the Magician!”
“Hmph!” a man dressed like he raided the local production company for Pride and Prejudice said, striding inside, a top hat and domino mask marking him as a magician. “To fight a lady seems untoward, but such villainy cannot be tolerated!”
I stared in shocked horror. Fuck! I couldn’t believe this! A bunch of random fucking streeters! What the hell was Carter’s security doing out there? A quick scan of the group of new heroes showed me all I needed. These morons might look like idiots, but there were too many of them for Glacia to handle alone. And I highly doubted they’d be pulling any punches.
Shit!
This was not good. I looked around impatiently, but Carter was nowhere to be seen. Glacia stared at the heroes in stunned confusion, and I couldn’t blame her. She wasn’t prepared for this.
Fortunately, someone remembered their role. “Get ‘em!” One of the Steves roared.
Hockey sticks came up as the group of minions rushed the heroes.
“Oh yeah, time to feel the heeeeeat!” Heatstroke roared as he formed a fireball and hurled it at one of the henchmen. The Steve took it head on and was blasted off his feet, screaming as he hit the ground, rolling around in agony as the licking flames consumed him.
Oh, that wasn’t good at all.
Not only for the Steve, but also for Glacia. That was the worst possible matchup for her.
The death screams of the Steve seemed to shock the stunned spectators into motion, spurring the party guests to rush towards the wings. Fortunately, the Steve would have popped out of existence before the end of the day anyway, but the sight certainly got the message across, and having less civvies around for a super brawl was going to be very much appreciated.
I grabbed the rail and threw myself over it, magnetising the bracers around my legs and ankles just enough to cushion the landing. I probably didn’t need to bother being subtle. Everyone was running in a panic. At least that part of the plan had survived.
But that was the only thing going right. I shot a glance at Mysteria, but she looked as shocked as everyone else and was being carried along by the crowd, soon lost in the swarm of people. Dammit! She wasn’t going to be of any help.
Looked like it was up to us.
“Yaaaaaaagh!”
And I was rapidly running out of Steves.
“Pile on him!” one of the Steves shouted. The surviving henchman rushed Heatstroke in a mob, only to be intercepted by Wrecking Ball. The massive man smashed into the henchmen like his namesake, bowling them over before laying into them with his massive fists.
At the sight Glacia’s eyes hardened, fixing on the fire man. She swept up her hand, a mass of cold coalescing around her in a wail of freezing air, forming a block of ice. Another gesture sent it flying at Heatstroke. The heat of the man half melted the chunk before it reached him, but though reduced, it was still big enough to hit him, knocking him off his feet.
I couldn’t supress a glow of pride at the sight. She just might make it as a villain after all. I looked towards Wrecking Ball as the giant grabbed two of the surviving Steve’s by the heads, lifting the struggling henchmen into the air. The streeter grinned and his hands tightened with a crunching sound. Instantly, the two henchmen in his grip grew limp, blood oozing between Wrecking Ball’s fingers. Shit! Well, so much for the Steves.
Guns.
My senses picked out the all too familiar magnetic aura instantly and I turned sharply to the magician holding his top hat towards Glacia, his hand swirling over the brim. A number of rifle barrels emerged like a bouquet of deadly flowers, aimed directly at Glacia.
Oh hell no!
My powers grabbed the humming field around the muzzle of the guns and gave them a magnetic yank. The barrels swung, Marvo jolting in surprise. Darts spat from the barrels, burying themselves instead into the Wrecking Ball’s back. The huge man staggered forward a step, blinking, the two Steves whose heads he’d just crushed slipping from his suddenly slack fists.
“What… was…”
His knees folded under him and the massive hero fell to the ground so hard the floor shook.
Tranquilizers? Were they trying to take Glacia alive? Judging by what they’d just done to the Steves, that seemed unlikely, but possible. And any reason they might have couldn’t be good. Still, one hero down, for now, but not for long. Super strength always came with a bit of a durability buff as well. Otherwise, the guys trying to lift a car tended to pulp their organs as they hefted the weight, so anything short of a bucket of horse tranquilizer was unlikely to keep him down long.
I caught a blur of light as it raced towards Glacia like a bolt of lightning.
“Skating rink. Now!” I shouted.
Her training came through. Glacia instantly responded, redirected her freezing power, washing it about her feet, coating the floor in a layer of ice. The Wizzer’s legs flew out from under him as he hit the slick, the speedster giving a scream as he went flying across the floor to smash into the far wall in a heap, but I didn’t hear a snap, so it tragically wasn’t fast enough to pulp his bones or even break his legs.
“You there! What did you do?”
I looked over to find Marvo staring right at me. Well, no surprise, I supposed. The floor was basically empty of anyone other than him, his cohorts, and dead Steves. I had to look extremely suspicious.
“Me?” I said, my fingers flicking, magnetism remotely grasping the metallic joints of the T-Rex skeleton on display behind Marvo, dust raining down as the tail slowly swung back. “Why should I be doing anything.”
His eyes narrowed, his mustache bristling. “Why… you’re in league with the girl!” he cried, aiming the barrels of his hat at me.
“Pretty much,” I said, and swung the T-Rex’s tail right into the bastard. He never saw it coming, the tail slamming into his side, sending the magician flying across the room in a jumble of limbs, some doves bursting from his pockets as he bounced across the floor and a couple rabbits boiling from his hat to hop frantically about.
Fucking magic.
But I didn’t waste time on him. Glacia was facing off with Heatstroke, icy air screaming around her as she sent spears of ice hurtling up at the hero, who in turn was busy flinging fireballs at her, the heat around him making the air shimmer and distort, blunting the ice even as he attacked. Dammit, I didn’t have time for this!
With a thought I deployed my armour, metal plates extending over me, shredding parts of my suit. Damn. Carter was likely to make me pay for that too. Another fucking expense. Fortunately, I didn’t lack for targets to take out my frustration on.
And conveniently, I saw Wrecking Ball heave himself onto his knees, shaking his head. He turned my way, his eyes narrowing under his bandana mask.
“Magneron,” he said, climbing to his feet, beating a fist into his palm like it was my head. “Heard you might show up.”
What?
“Heard?” I demanded. “From whom?”
“Don’t matter. Gonna make my name,” he said and came at me, pounding across the floor like a battering ram.
Fucking streeters.
I moved my hand, puppeteering the whole T-Rex skeleton by its metal joints. Wrecking Ball caught a glimpse of it and instantly turned to face it. His eyes widened in shock as the skeleton’s jaws opened wide and lunged for him. He grabbed the teeth in his grip, the ground cracking under his feet, tearing up chunks of linoleum as he was pushed back by the skeleton’s charge.
But he stopped, bracing himself, his strength finally overcoming the force of my magnetic powers. Wrecking Ball grinned, his arms trembling to hold the jaws from crushing his head, but besting the beast.
Dumbass.
Strength heroes always made the same mistake. They thought just because they can lift something, it can’t lift them.
I jerked my hand and the rex’s head swung, whipping the startled streeter right off his feet and into the air. Wrecking Ball screamed in surprise, calling in Heatstroke’s attention seconds bore the muscular man smashed into the fiery hero. Heatstroke was hit right in the chest, Wrecking Ball reflexively letting go of the rex’s teeth, and the two of them were sent hurling through the air and out the hole they’d made with their big entrance in.
Glacia looked my way with a relieved smile, which suddenly turned into shock as she caught sight of something over my shoulder. A barrage of small rocks slammed into my back. The impacts drove me forward a step, but my armour took the brunt of it and I looked quickly back. The Wizzer was back on his feet and throwing an absolute storm of rubble at me, his hands a blur of superspeed as he snatched up and hurled debris like a machine gun.
“Do not touch him!” Glacia roared, looking more pissed than I’d ever seen her. Her voice wailed like a banshee’s as she rose off the ground, white light searing around her as she directed a ray of freezing cold at the speedster. The Wizzer was ironically a bit too slow, shocked at the display of elemental might. Dropping his attack and the rocks he’d been about to throw, he turned to try and run, only to be caught in Glacia’s assault. Ice encased his legs and arms, freezing him in the midst of a dash, his face barely left uncovered.
“Nice one,” I said.
I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye as Marvo came at me again, having recovered enough to make a bother of himself once more. He tapped the rim of his hat and a bundle of tentacles that would have made Lovecraft envious burst from the darkness, groping in a slimy mass for me. Uh! I recoiled as the writhing limbs grabbed my armoured arms and leg, metal creaking as they squeezed. Fuck! I fucking hated magic so goddam much!
“Fool!” the magician bellowed, grinning wildly while blood poured down his face from a cut in his brow. “My hat was a gift from powers more eldritch than you could dream! I can summon forces beyond your ken to my aid!”
“Yeah!” I said as I gripped the metal band around his hat. “Maybe next time use plastic.”
I tightened my hold, and the metal ring contracted, squeezing the band of the hat shut. The tentacles writhed for a split second, bulging along with a scream of some no doubt eldritch and horrific being in pain. But the constriction was too much, and the hat was squeezed shut, severing the writhing tentacles.
Ichor sprayed the stunned Marvo, the tentacles falling from me and flopping about the floor like dying fish. For good measure, I gestured at him. “Glacia?”
With another spray of cold the magician was hurled backward, slamming against the far wall as ice encased him from the neck down.
“Leave them space to breathe,” I instructed her.
“Sir?” she said, momentarily pausing in her vindictive cold front, but doing as I said all the same.
Truth be told, I didn’t really care if they ended up dead. If someone came at me like these fuckwits had, I had no compunction about putting them in the goddam ground. But these were clearly novice streeters. For God’s sake, they actually wore spandex without being a part of a brand deal. And though I could very easily plead self-defence if I ever got caught, showing you at least tried not to kill a hero is usually enough to get the law and the other heroes to ease up. They knew the game. Whenever I killed a hero, it was either them or me, and if possible I tried and do it out of sight so I could get rid of the body more privately.
These idiots, though, were probably just drunk off their power. A little frostbite should teach them a bit of discretion. Or at least not to fuck with me. Trauma was handy like that. I’d heard some heroes who were on the receiving end of some of my ‘lessons’ couldn’t even go near fridge magnets without gibbering in hysterics.
“Like I told you,” I said as I dropped my hand, releasing my grip on the hat’s band. “Only kill if it’s you or them. And good work,” I informed her.
“Thank you, sir,” Glacia said, though she looked decidedly nervous.
And I was too. I took in the museum hall with something approaching despair. The job had been well and truly fucked. A few of the banners still whipped above us, but most were burning merrily or glittering with petrifying frost. The crowds were completely gone, and odds were good the actual cops and probably some real heroes were on their way. But I had no intention of hanging around to try and explain things. As far as I was concerned, this was Carter’s fault for not having adequate security to keep these idiots out.
“Let’s go,” I said, heading towards the hole the streeters had made with their entrance. “We gotta…”
I trailed off, stopping. Through the hole in the wall a red glow had begun to build. A sudden blast of fire roared through the opening as Heatstroke burst back inside, fire swirling around him, lifting him into the air like a living torch in the shape of a man. His hair burned so hot it had turned blue, but his face was utterly red with fury.
“Bastard!” he snarled, the crackle of heat suffocating, beating into me like a physical force and making sweat bead my skin under my armour. “You’ll pay for this!”
“Will I?” I said, casually reaching out with my magnetic powers, willing it to grasp the brass dome above the check-in desk and begin to twist it free. “And how so?”
“You think a villain can beat me?” he shouted, the fire around him growing even hotter, the ice that Glacia had formed across the floor and walls melting into steam by the sheer ambient temperature.
“Why not?” I said, playing for time. Fucking things up by monologuing wasn’t only the domain of villains, after all.
“Because I’m a hero!” he screamed, his hair flaring with his words. “I’m the one who beats you! I’m the one who gets the girl! I’m the one who fell into that nuclear testing chamber! I’m the one who got his atoms scrambled! I’m the one who wins! You can’t win!”
“Yeah,” I said, finally wrenching the ball off its stand, metal snapping audibly. “I’m the villain. But you know what? Sometimes, the villain wins.”
If I was looking to calm him down, that was the worst thing I could have said. Good thing I wasn’t. I wanted all his attention on me, and I got it. His face was downright purple now, almost lost in the roaring flames. He raised his arms, gathering all the fire around him into a ball above his head that burned like a miniature sun. The sheer heat of it would likely blast the whole building into rubble if he set it off.
Which was why I didn’t give him the chance.
I hurled the metal sphere at him like a cannon ball. I saw his face sag in momentary surprise before the ball smashed into him, clock first, knocking him back out the hole and into the building opposite, crashing through the wall with bone-crushing force.
Without his power fueling it, the fire in the air dissipated, extinguishing with a hiss and curling away. Steam still rose from the floor, but the heat was no longer unbearable. Not that I planned on waiting around for it to cool down further.
I looked about. Everyone left in the room was either dead, unconscious, or iced. Well, that worked. I grabbed Glacia by the arm. “Alright, we’re gone!”
“What?” she gasped. “But-“
“Show’s fucked up. And we need to be out of here before the cops show. Come on!”
And as much as it absolutely pissed me off, that was a pretty right assessment. As I pulled Glacia towards the now convenient hole in the wall, ducking my head out to make sure there were no more surprises waiting, I lamented how badly this job had been screwed by some heroes. I dragged her through the deserted alley, my armour peeling back and into my bracers and anklets, leaving me once more in a somewhat singed but still serviceable suit. We passed the cratered building beside the museum where the brass ball had taken Heatstroke, but no light shone through the new hole. Good. I hoped the fucker was dead for what he’d done.
“S-sir,” Glacia gasped.
I looked back at her, and she didn’t look too good. Her face was paler than usual, almost grey, and sweat gleamed on her brow. That heat must have done a number on her. Only one thing for it. Stopping, I hooked an arm under her legs and another around her back, scooping her into my arms. She gave a startled squeak, eyes shooting wide open.
“I-I can walk, sir,” Glacia gasped. “Please, sir, you don’t need to-“
“Maybe you can. But I’m doing it anyway,” I said, pushing the magnetic field of my cuffs and anklets off the metal piping under the street, lifting me and Glacia into the night sky. I flew with her, skipping over buildings until we reached where I left my Civic. A couple patrons in the McDonalds peered at us as we set down, but I ignored them as I let Glacia inside the car, then hurried about and to the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind me.
I started the engine, pulling out into traffic and heading straight for the highway, drumming my fingers on the wheel.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Glacia finally said. She was hunched miserably in the seat beside me, practically buried in her snowy coat. “I let you down. I… I disgraced you.”
“Hey, none of that,” I said firmly. “Things went wrong, but it happens. The important part is you’re okay.”
Which was important, but that didn’t change the fact that everything went fuck up. And I could tell by Glacia’s face she knew it. I sighed, shaking my head.
“Glacia,” I said. “You can’t blame yourself for this. Really. In this business… well, these things happen. No plan goes off without a hitch, no matter how much foresight you put in. Even the people who can literally see into the future don’t get it right all the time. We did our best here, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. No civilians died, we’re okay, and the diamond is still there.”
“But sir…”
“I know how you feel,” I said sincerely. “Believe me. I’ve been on jobs where things went utterly wrong. One time, a city block was levelled because in the middle of a ‘bank robbery’, some villain with a mole theme and a giant drill came right up from under the floor. He’d tunneled under half the city to get there, and when I smashed his stupid drill down, it took out the entire building along with its neighbours.”
“The Underking Incident,” she said softly, nodding.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I said, surprised she knew about it. But now wasn’t the time to ask her how. “These things happen,” I said, shrugging. “It’s part of the job. And we’ll get another chance. I’ll go to Carter tomorrow and talk to her. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yes, sir,” Glacia said miserably.
I let it pass, focusing on the road. I’d said all I could for now. Things would look better tomorrow with the benefit of hindsight, I was sure. I hadn’t been exaggerating when I said I’d faced similar circumstances as she did, and I knew that failure weighed you down until you could pick yourself back up again.
But for now, I simply drove Glacia back to her place, and headed home to collapse into bed and get some well-deserved rest.