The Octagon
Though the prospect of meeting Dolly’s psycho former boss and his entourage of monsters took up a fair bit of headspace, I’d gotten good at compartmentalizing things. You kind of had to when working as a villain for hire. Most supers did. Secret identities alone meant you had to be pretty on the ball at the best of times.
So though fighting in the Nights to try and squeeze some info about Teklin and his creatures was a big issue, I couldn’t drop everything else either. I was a professional villain, after all, and my livelihood depended on being able to thoroughly menace anyone at any time. I’d once had to take on The Graviton while still healing up from a broken arm I got three days before while fighting the Crushinator. I’d been so hopped up on pain pills I was barely able to make my getaway, and apparently had been swerving all the way back home before collapsing into bed.
Well, them’s the breaks when you freelance. Although I doubt most other freelancers got their breaks from a four-ton pile of muscle and steel. Which meant despite everything else, we still needed to meet with Carter and figure out how the fight with the Songbirds was gonna go.
Orion’s Octagon was as impressive as I remembered it being. Sitting alone on the bay, it was built like a bowl with high stands in the back and open to the air. It had been built in the early days of the Golden Age of Supers, back in the late thirties going into the fifties. Nothing like a world war to really make people see the value of people in tights that can lift tanks and leap tall buildings in a single bound. Having your country’s flag plastered all over their chest was also quite reassuring when the bombs started dropping and the vampires in swastikas were making a play.
These days, of course, there were much less nation specific heroes. That you hear about, at least. The government still had their special cadres of heroes, but most of the main ones went global since the seventies. The ones the government kept tended not to wear the flag when doing their work, or any other markers for that matter. You heard a lot of things though. Terror cells suddenly wiped out. Inexplicable destruction of certain foreign facilities that may or may not have been hiding a new super soldier serum. I’d once met a government spook who tried to recruit me, and spook was right. Sonofabitch had a look like he’d kill you stone dead and not even have the grace to feel satisfaction about it.
I shut the car door as Psyren joined me, shading her eyes against the sunlight glinting off the bay. “Hmm. Not bad,” she said. “Not quite the Rumble Ring, though.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I said, scanning the parking lot. I picked out Steve’s van almost instantly. It was damn near impossible not to. Aside from small towns in the Midwest and maybe San Francisco, there weren’t that many cars still driving around with a pair of Frank Frazetta tits splashed across the side. Which was a shame, really. American society lost something vital when white guys who teach karate in the mall stopped being a cultural force.
Steve himself lounged outside the van, once more in his more causal getup. Loose pants, baggy shirt, and tinted sun glasses, he was a model of casual laziness, but I knew better. Steve was as professional as you needed, because there were so many Steves. He could be working a dozen jobs at once and you’d never know it. I waved over to him as we approached.
Spotting us, Steve pushed himself off the side of the van, slouching towards us with a broadening grin. “Eyyyy! There she is!” he said, throwing open his arms and folding Psyren up in a crushing hug. “My little sister. Come aaaaall this way, getting her first big gig as a villainess. Aw Psyren I’m so proud of you!”
Psyren giggled, returning the hug animatedly. “Thanks, bro! It’s going to be so good. I know it!”
I couldn’t help but smile a bit. Seeing Psyren and her brother was actually heartwarming, especially given how Psyren usually was. Psychics rarely had what you’d call ‘stable childhoods,’ and given the sheer immensity of Psyren’s powers, she’d never had a chance. Her brother had, apparently, practically raised her, and had even gotten her the protection of the Rumble Ring before she joined me. That protection had probably saved her life, not to mention her sanity. There were any number of egomaniacs who’d love to get their hands on a psychic as powerful as her. Not to mention various governments or worse. There was a reason most psychics ended up as villains. Survivorship bias was a hell of a thing.
“Eyyy! And there’s my man. My bro! My friend,” Steve said, releasing Psyren and slouching towards me. Ah well, here we go. I wasn’t that big on hugs or physical contact in general. Came with the territory of being a villain. Someone gets that close to me, it was usually to try and stick a knife in me or blast me with hands made of molten lava, but Steve was a good enough friend I could take a few quirks. I patted him on the back as he hugged me. Okay. One, two, three, and four. Hug time over. I pushed him back, Steve swaying a little where he stood. Whoof. He always smelled like cigarettes and usually some booze. If I hadn’t worked for him for literal years, I’d be worried.
“We were just about to head in,” I told Steve, thumbing towards the Octagon.
“Eyyy! Excellent. Been waiting, my man.”
“How long?”
“Slept in the van! It’s a great thing, man. Reeeeal comfortable.”
I glanced again at the van. I never asked where Steve lived. That was a line in the whole ‘professional’ sand I’d rather not cross. What he did in his free time was his business. If he wanted to live in his van, that was up to him, though he surely made enough money to own a mansion at this point.
“Well, glad you’re showing that enthusiasm,” I said lamely.
“Why wouldn’t I? When my baby sister is getting aaaall set up for her big day? Eh? Eh?” he said, slinging a gangly arm around Psyren’s shoulder and hugging her.
Psyren laughed and hit him in the ribs. I snorted, and angled my head towards the building. “Come on, let’s head in.”
I led the way towards the main doors, Psyren and Steve following closely. “Now remember,” I told Psyren as we came near it. “We’re professionals. We’re here to do a job. Respect the heroes, respect the villains. Everyone going into this is looking to come out unharmed.”
“Hey! I can be professional,” Psyren said. “Honest!”
Colour me sceptical, to say the least. “Right,” I said.
“Seriously. I can be utterly dignified,” she said with a sniff.
“…Sure. Anyway, this is mainly just a meet and greet. We say hi, get a feel for the place, make the plan, and put in any conditions we think we’ll need. Any questions?”
“Nope! I trust you, boss,” Psyren said.
“Damn straight! My man Magneron? He’s the best in the biz, sis,” Steve said. “You’re in good hands.”
All that talk was going to give me a swelled head, but Steve has always been good at building me up. Hell, that was half his job as a henchman. Nothing said ‘take me seriously’ like the ability to throw cannon fodder at a hero. We got into the Octagon with little trouble. Carter was clearly expecting us, and we were escorted to the stage area. Workmen crowded the main stage, scaling scaffolding and labouring on towering sound systems that looked more like artillery pieces than speakers, while others laid out and tinkered with wiring sprawling from machinery.
I spotted Carter atop the stage, talking to a trio of young women who could only be the Songbirds. In her strictly professional and no less attractive attire of a suit, skirt and done up hair, Carter made quite the contrast against her charges. All three were between eighteen to twentyish, perky in that way younger women tend to be, the Songbirds were an attractive group, I had to say, and each one looked like she knew her stuff. They were in costume, and I instantly picked out the leader due to her red colour scheme. The leader always wore red, and I wagered she had some kind of fire power as well. She had a good figure. Slim but not without her curves, which were pretty apparent by the tightness of her costume, sporting what looked like a stylized robin on the front, its wings curved to lift up her breasts. Beside her was a sleepy looking blonde in a golden outfit with a number of sequins on the arms like glittery feathers, and the third I’d known before as Mysteria, but judging by the black and white costume, I wagered I was looking at either a name like Magpie or maybe Raven.
As Psyren and I climbed the steps Carter caught sight of us and turned with a flash of a grin. “Victor! Psyren. Excellent. Right on time! I’d like to introduce the Songbirds. This is Robin,” she said, indicating the redhead, “Goldfinch, and Magpie.”
Ha, still got it.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking their hands, though Magpie seemed a little reluctant to do it. No surprise there. She was supposed to be a solo hero before the trouble at the museum. “We’re looking forward to working with you.”
“Yo, bitches,” Psyren said with a cocky flick of her hand.
I inwardly groaned. Well, so much for professionalism.
Robin eyed Psyren coldly. “Hm. So you’re the villainess?” she said, a note of catty contempt in her voice.
I looked at the crimson heroine closer. “You seem familiar,” I said thoughtfully.
“I have been in the business for a while,” she said.
Images were starting to trickle in. Yes. I think I did remember her. “Wait a minute… weren’t you Hot Sauce?”
Heads slowly looked towards Robin, whose eyes had widened a bit. “I’m… I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Yeah,” I said, giving her a onceover again. I knew she looked familiar. “You were Hot Sauce, from the Burger Brigade, weren’t you? You had that little hat thing.”
“No! No I didn’t!” she said tightly.
Knew it. Many heroes started off doing grunt work as sidekicks before moving up the ranks to be taken on by a more serious hero. It was the best way to do it, honestly. You learn the ropes from a pro hero while working as a sidekick, and eventually you branch out into better stuff, as Robin clearly had. And it could have been worse. Often, if a sidekick got to a certain age and failed to branch out, they were just retired by the brand. Not a lot of heroes wanted a thirty year old to be following them around. It got kinda creepy, and weirded out the customer base. Not what you wanted when corporations were in the business of making money above all else. It was a shame, but that was the way of the industry. More former sidekicks than I liked ended up becoming streeters, and they could be the most dangerous kind. Nothing like getting kicked out of the superhero industry or beaten half to death by a nut in clown makeup with a crowbar to jade you, and their experience with their powers made them a serious threat. But some found a second career as villains like me. I knew a few who did well menacing the very heroes they’d once worked alongside. It was a tough act to get right, but the drama from the ‘fallen partner’ was always a good seller.
But if she didn’t want to bring it up, I wouldn’t pry either. I knew as well as anyone why you’d want to leave behind early career work. Instead, I looked about the stage thoughtfully. “So word’s gone out, then? Got some bands lined up?” I asked Carter.
“A good number,” she said. “The Devil’s Details will be the big ones. And the girls themselves are singing early on. We’ll have Psyren come on at the end to cap the show off.” She looked at Psyren, smiling in that pleasant way that all PR people have mastered. “If you need anything, please let us know. We’ll do our best to ensure your work is properly showcased as we move forward.”
“Sure thing. Got a few ideas already,” Psyren said, admiring the stage.
“Also,” I put in. “We’ll need some extra security uniforms. Steve here will be acting out the brainwashed security guards that will join any band members who get hypnotized and thrown at the Songbirds.”
“Nice to meetcha,” Steve said with an exaggerated bow to the trio of heroines, nearly falling over before he swung back.
That got a few looks. Oh well. “Don’t worry about knocking him around a bit,” I told them. “Steve is a cloner. Any of his copies will vanish by the end of the day.”
“Excellent!” Carter said, clapping her hands. “We’ll take care of it at once. Julia? Would you escort Victor’s friend to security?” Carter said.
“Of course, ma’am. This way, please,” Julia said.
“Have fun, sis!” Steve said, waving farewell to Psyren as he slumped off after Julia and down off the stage.
Well, that was one thing out of the way. I turned back to the Songbirds. “Now, the big scene is going to take place on stage, of course. But I want to make it clear that Psyren is not a combat hero. She isn’t going to get into a fistfight with any of you. Her powers are entirely audience participation.”
“Understood,” Robin said with a frown. “But some security and band members won’t be enough to really get things going.”
“No,” I agreed. “Which was why I asked Carter to find a hero for you. Did you?” I asked her.
“Of course! Trevor?” she called, looking at the backstage. “Would you mind coming out here?”
A man pushed aside the curtain and stepped heavily onto the stage. Well well! This was a nice surprise. I actually felt myself grin as I got a good look at who Carter had recruited. He was a big man with a barrel chest and starting go a little grey in the hairs. Huge fists hung at his sides and though he was dressed casually in a jacket and jeans, he carried himself like a man who knew his strength. A trimmed beard clung to his chin and his face had that heavy lantern jaw that’s so classically hero. There was an amiable jolliness about him that was easy to smile at.
“Captain Kinetic!” I said, walking up to him. “It’s been a while.”
Trevor, better known as Captain Kinetic, laughed and put out his hand. “Magneron! Well well. So you’re the one training the new villainess?”
“You two know each other?” Psyren said, looking between us.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ve worked with Trevor a number of times on jobs. He’s an old hand at the business. A real pro.”
“Sure am. It’ll be good to be with a new villainess you’re bringing up. Hey there,” he said, moving over to Psyren and shaking her hand. “Captain Kinetic! At your service. I can create kinetic blasts with my hands and disperse impacts after a tragic encounter in the 80’s with a nuclear waste truck. And I’ll be your hero.”
I nodded to myself as he shook hands with Psyren. Finally, a bit of luck. Captain Kinetic was a true pro. He’d been in the business a while, even before I got started. I’d battled him a number of times over the years, and he’d been bounced around to a few different agencies in that time. But I hadn’t seen him lately. Which wasn’t too surprising, really. He wasn’t a young man anymore, and unless you were selling bourbon or barbecues, most advertising agencies didn’t have a lot of work for a hero over thirty.
“Nice to meet you,” Psyren said.
“Haven’t been mind controlled by such a pretty girl in a long time,” Trevor said with a grin. “Not since I was… oh, I think Wildman.”
“Who?” Psyren said.
“Ah, guess you were a bit too young for that,” he laughed. “That was my name back in the nineties. I was a real anti-hero kind back then. Started off a Superman clone when I got started in the eighties. Thanks to my powers I was able to make it seem like I could shoot lasers out the eyes, super strength, flight, all that jazz. But when the 90’s rolled in they wanted something edgier, so I shifted over to a real Punisher look. Didn’t last long before they had me turn into being Captain Kinetic about… oh, a decade ago or so. I think 2005?”
“Wow, you are old,” Psyren said.
“Psyren!” I said.
Trevor laughed, waving it off. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I am getting up in years, no question.”
“Which is why he’s perfect to run as the Songbird’s mentor,” Carter said, spreading her hands in the air as if projecting her vision to us all. “Imagine it! The hero returning to mentor the next generation. Bringing them up to become champions of truth, justice, and progress. A mentor! A champion! And all after they save him from the domination of the wicked villainess. It’s perfect!”
I noticed Trevor’s smile tighten a little. “Well,” he said with a shrug. “So it goes. Ladies? Don’t hit me too hard, I hope. But don’t hold back either. Trust me, I can take it.”
I believed that. I remembered one time I took Trevor on at an auto show. I’d slammed a dozen trucks into him and he’d kept coming, dispersing the impact across a kinetic field like a bubble. That had been a good one.
“We’ll be pleased to work with you,” Robin said.
“Wonderful! Glad it’s all coming together. And Victor? I assume you’ll be here for the show as well?” Carter said, turning once more my way.
“Of course,” I said. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. And I’ll be wanting to keep an eye on things just in case.”
“We’ll have very tight security,” Carter assured me. “We won’t be looking for a repeat like last time at the museum.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said.
We spent the next hour or so hammering out certain details about the performance. Much of it was over my head, but Psyren knew what she was about in prepping for a real performance. Since she was going to be one of the headliners, she’d have an actual excuse for being there and participating. My expertise was in the villainy part of the show, which meant designing the way she’d escape.
“Smoke machines,” I said when it was brought up. “It’ll be used during the performance anyway. We can trigger it when Captain Kinetic has his brainwashing ruined, and then in the smoke Psyren can duck out backstage and we’ll fly out of there. Officially, she escaped through the fire exit. Maybe even hypnotized one of the guards to open the door. No need to actually do that,” I added for her benefit, thinking back to my meeting with Olympia. “Streeters often scope out an emergency exit to ruin dramatic getaways.”
“Carrying me off into the night sky? How romantic,” Psyren purred, pressing up against me like an affectionate cat.
I grunted, feeling the heat of arousal grow instantly. Dammit, she knew this turned me on. Fucking minx. I cleared my throat, though did slip an arm around her, my hand resting on her hip. “Right. Overall, it’ll hit all the major objectives. Give the audience a good show, have the Songbirds team up and take down the heavy hitter, set up their new mentor, and get Psyren out of there. Are we missing anything?”
“Your role, I suppose,” Robin said.
“I’ll be the lookout,” I said. “In the audience in case anything goes wrong. I’ll scope it out and try and make sure there aren’t any heroes, other than the official ones. Trevor? Can I count on you to keep an eye on Psyren too, just in case?”
“Of course. She’s my meal ticket too,” Trevor said with a booming laugh.
“Then I suppose that’s it,” I said to Carter.
“Excellent!” she said, clapping her hands. “Then we’re agreed. Now, ladies? About your musical number. I know you had some doubts about how to work in ‘Lehman’s Cola’, but I think we found a great middle ground there…”
I drew back, letting Carter try and rewrite the Songbird’s lyrics to sell soft drinks. As I did, Psyren slipped out of my grasp and moved away. I stopped to watch her as she walked slowly to the front of the stage, looking out at the open pit where the audience would be. I wondered if she was already imagining how packed it would be? She certainly seemed to be, the neon hearts in her eyes pulsing, her finger tapping against her thigh to a beat only she could hear.
Well, maybe not just her. Judging by the faint aching in my head, others around us might be getting a hint of her performance in their minds. I noticed some of the workmen starting to hum a tune I didn’t recognize, but that sounded eerily similar to the beat Psyren was tapping out.
I went up behind her and she looked back, and I was surprised to see an expression of true happiness on her face. Her smile almost literally lit up her face as she stepped back, leaning against my chest as she looked out on the empty arena.
“Finally,” she said softly.
I let my hands automatically find their place on her hips, easing her back against me. “Bit bigger than the Rumble Ring,” I noted.
She giggled softly, shivering with excitement. “Boss, you really don’t know what this actually means to me,” she said, her glowing eyes hot pink. “I’ve been waiting to really perform out there all my life. Letting the big crowds see me. Listen to me. Want me so bad. I’ve dreamed of singing at a place like this.”
“You have the talent for it,” I said, recalling how wild she’d driven the crowd back at the Rumble Ring.
“But never the chance. Bro said I couldn’t. It wasn’t safe. But,” she said, her hands resting on mine. “Now I can. Really, boss. You don’t know how much it means to me.”
Well, this was a surprise, but a welcome one. The vibe Psyren had been giving off until now had been the psycho brat. More Exorcist than Gem. But as I looked down at her staring at the empty arena, I realized for all her many (many) faults, she was an artist who’d always really wanted to perform. And here was her chance.
“You’re gonna do great,” I told her.
Psyren pressed back against me further, swaying a little. “Thanks, boss.”
I held her like that for a while, enjoying the moment as she began to gently hum under her breath. I enjoyed it while I could, because when it ended, I’d have to get back to business. For tonight was the Nights, and it was time to meet Teklin.