Villains’ Vignettes

VOLUME II

VILLAINS’ CODE

BOOK 3.5

DREW HAYES

Contents

Untitled

Acknowledgments

Hometown Hero

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

The Priestess and The Peril: Part 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Camp Meta

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

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About the Author

Untitled

Villains’ Vignettes: Volume II

Tales From the Villains’ Code

by Drew Hayes

Acknowledgments

This novel is dedicated to all you dear, dedicated readers taking the chance on a side series, the sort of content so often skipped. I appreciate you coming along, and hope the ride is a fun one.

As always, a special thanks to the attentive beat readers who help make these books their best. To Bill Hammond, TheSFReader, Amanda, E Ramos E.

Villains’ Vignettes: Volume II

Copyright © 2025 by Andrew Hayes

All Rights Reserved.

Edited by Celestian Rince (http://celestianrince.com), and Erin Cooley

Cover by A.M. Ruggs

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

Hometown Hero

1

“Prisoner Number D1637GC11. Superhero name: Apollo.”

The bespectacled man in the slim brown suit paused reading, looking over his document at the inmate sitting before him. His crown of golden curls was gone, shaved away upon his admittance and once every month since. This was not a policy of the facility, rather it had been at the prisoner’s own discretion.

Beyond the missing hair, he lacked the ever-present beaming grin and literal glow, though his incredible physique still stood out despite the drab prison garb draped over it. It was hard to believe this man had once been considered a candidate to take on a leadership role within the Alliance of Heroic Champions.

“Real name: Chase Lambert. Do you understand why you have been called here today?”

“Not really.” The prisoner seemed relatively unconcerned, an understandable emotion when measuring the depth of his abilities against the security of the facility. They couldn’t actually contain him here if he wanted to leave, but no one was willing to transfer him anywhere worse. That was why the decision had come down, no matter the feathers it ruffled.

From the small case at his side, the suited man produced a pair of bracelets. Each was silver on the top, with an electric blue running along the underside, and thin enough to cover with a watchband. “After careful review, your sentence has been altered. Rather than expend taxpayer resources on someone we believe can be contributing to society, you are being offered a conditional parole.”

For the first time since getting summoned out of his cell, Chase showed genuine interest, his gaze locked upon the silver bracelets. “And what might those conditions be? I’m not looking to act as some government asset to be used and then abandoned.”

“Our agencies learned that lesson many decades ago: never discard metas, even when it would be convenient. The repercussions if they survive are simply too severe.” Snapping the briefcase shut, the man offered Chase both bracelets to examine. “But that is, in fact, the very opposite of your parole’s main condition: only sanctioned use of your meta-human abilities is allowed.”

Taking the bracelets, Apollo looked each over closely, running his thumbs across the undersides. The agent expected it all to be a show, and was thus surprised when the former superhero concluded his assessment. “Energy detection bands, already keyed to my particular frequency.”

“How do you know that?” The slim man leaned slightly forward on his case, wondering if there was yet another leak to dig out. With all the powers in the world, he wondered how anyone kept a single thing secret.

“I voted to help fund their development, and proposed their use on ex-cons. My pitch was using these on people who’d already served their sentences, though, as an extra security measure. This feels more like…” Sighing, Chase donned both of the bands, noting the way they made micro adjustments to fit him snugly. “I also know they’re imperfect. They can only sense the use of specific meta-energies, and even then only in significant enough concentration. I give off a certain amount of it just by existing. For metas like me, that still leaves superhuman strength, speed, and durability, just not at the same levels that I could reach without these little accessories tattling.”

Taking his case back, the slim man closed it softly, eliciting a gentle click. “Hence why they are not being offered to members of the general prison population, but rather a former superhero with an expansive list of character testimony in his favor.”

“And that’s just… it? You drop me off in Ridge City, say farewell and good luck, then turn me loose?”

“Certainly not. For starters, you will be located nowhere near Ridge City and its constant meta-human activities. Secondly, you will begin your conditional parole under a larger-scale form of house arrest. There will be a set perimeter you’ll need to remain within, though there is some flexibility in what you do while in that space. Other parole conditions have to be honored, such as securing lodging and a place of employment, but the biggest one to keep in mind is your powers.”

Slender fingers tapped against each of Apollo’s new bracelets, the cuffs that would bind him even once he exited the prison. “Bad as things went at the end, your abilities are… considerable. Enough that if we thought Apollo was going rogue, it would have to be addressed as a serious threat. Am I clear?”

“If I use my powers, expect the hammer to come down hard and fast.” Apollo wriggled both of his wrists, pulling them away from the slim man’s reach. “Or at least, that’s what you’ll try to have me believe.”

“You don’t think we can– ”

“Forget think, let’s stick with what I know.” Apollo smiled, and suddenly a bit of that old confidence was back. “Like that I know the government doesn’t have any metas on their payroll that can stand on even footing with the Champions’ Congress. I helped process all the request forms you made for the AHC’s resources, after all. So then, the AHC would act as the enforcers, except I’ll be rated as a high-level threat. That means only one of the big three can safely be sent out. Professor Quantum doesn’t care, Lodestar never kills if there’s another option, and Quorum…”

Apollo’s smile and words faltered, as he wasn’t quite sure what would happen if he saw the older meta who’d poured so much time and trust into him. Death seemed an unlikely outcome, but Quorum could surprise just about anyone.

“My point is, I’m not going to use my powers because it’s a fair condition of the parole. And if breaking it gets me into trouble, I’ll accept those consequences, too. I’m in here to pay penance, not whittle away time listening to empty threats.”

Although the slim man’s eyes narrowed, he quietly produced a small set of pages, laying them on the table. Apollo scooped them up, skimming each. Upon reaching one near the back, his handsome mouth twisted down into a frown.

“In there you’ll find the official dissolution of your superhero identity, with all rights held by the AHC as per your contract. There’s also information about the temporary lodging where we’re setting you up for the first two weeks, and your confinement area. Additionally, you’ll find details on a special situation we’d like you to be aware of, though what you do with that information is in your hands.”

Chase Lambert, no longer Apollo in any sense, slapped the pages back down onto the table. “The name is a coincidence, right? You wouldn’t send me back there?”

“Back where? To a town where you have roots and connections to help keep you on the straight and narrow?”

Leaning back in his chair, Chase idly scratched at the bracelets. Why couldn’t they have lashed him with full-body restraints, or just let him stay in prison?

Anything had to be better than going back to Derkenville.

From the breast pocket of his brown suit, the man produced one final paper, sliding it softly across the table. “There is also one additional catch, a matter we could use your input on. One where you are specifically qualified to offer perspective.”

With a weary sigh, Chase flipped over the paper, curious to see what final surprise the man had waited to spring.

2

Derkenville was known as many things. A former quarry town that had fallen back on farming when the jobs dried up. A pass-through for people going to bigger, better places. Jerkoffville, when the young ones were having fun with graffiti and the older generation was up in arms about the same pranks they’d pulled decades prior.

And, of course, it was the hometown of Apollo.

Not that the superhero had truly been born here: that happened on a field trip to the natural history museum in Rayette, what qualified as the big town northeast of Derkenville. A fact which had caused some amount of contention when Apollo’s name began to hit the big time. But ultimately, his old identity was revealed, and at that point, there was no longer any debate.

Chase Lambert was born in Derkenville, and Apollo’s first flight had been over the same town. So far as just about anyone not living in Rayette was concerned, the matter had been settled.

After Apollo’s fall from grace, it would have made sense if the town stripped back its pride in the famous superhero, given that he’d turned himself in for conspiring with criminals and costing civilian lives.

Which made the giant face of Apollo staring back at Chase all the more uncomfortable as he walked down the bus’s steps, tugging on his sleeves to ensure the bracelets were covered. It was bizarre, seeing the golden curls around his own famous face welcoming him to “Derkenville, Home of Apollo”, stenciled above the figure.

Chase kept walking, trying not to stare. The air felt cool against his shaved head, the best camouflage he had for getting around town without being noticed. There was little hope such a disguise would last forever, but if he could just make it through a couple of days–

“Oh my gosh, aren’t you Apollo? Can I have your autograph?”

On reflex, Chase tried to reach for a pen, only pausing when he heard the voice snort with laughter. Standing near an old vending machine advertising laughably out-of-date soda choices was a mousey woman with ample freckles along her face. A green domino-style mask was fastened around her eyes, matching the sharp greens and muted reds of her crisply cut costume.

There was something more, though, a familiar snark in that small smile. Suddenly, Chase was fifteen again, talking to one of the only friends he had.

“Marcey?”

“Stringless while I’m on the clock, but the mask is mostly just part of the outfit. Too hard keeping a secret identity in the same town where you grew up.” Despite the correction, she surged forward, snaring Chase in a hug. Even with her smaller frame, she moved quickly, showing a practiced grace.

The costume wasn’t new, then.

“I didn’t know you’d gone superhero,” he admitted. There were a lot of things about life back here he hadn’t bothered to check up on. No… that he hadn’t wanted to check up on. Because this was the home of Chase, and he’d moved on to something more than that simple boy could ever fathom.

Only to end up right back where he started, with a pair of tattlers on his wrists.

“Happened a few years after you left town. I can tell you the story on the way, but up front, let’s just acknowledge that you finding a shard of actual divinity inside an old piece of pottery was much cooler, and came with better powers.”

Pulling back from the hug, Chase finally stopped to wonder how coincidental this meeting really was. “On the way where?”

“Your new accommodations, of course. Didn’t think they were going to turn you loose without tossing the local superheroes some warning?” Stringless shook her head in soft laughter, the pale brown hair, chopped short, swinging as she did. “Give us a little credit here.”

“Us? When did Derkenville get big enough to need one full-time superhero, let alone multiple?”

Marcey didn’t answer that time, instead walking past the bus terminal’s unloading point and over to the parking lot. When she clicked the keys in her hand, it wasn’t any sort of themed vehicle that lit up; instead a beat-up sedan that had seen better days honked weakly at the signal.

Not until Chase was trying to get comfortable against the cloth seat-covers did Marcey speak up. “Derkenville has seen its ups and downs since you left. The Apollo tourism is one of our brightest spots, economically speaking, and why your face is just as popular around here as it ever was. So long as it keeps people’s bottom-lines afloat, I doubt they care what kind of shit you pulled out there.”

“They should.” Chase wrestled his seatbelt into the buckle. The first pulls were too strong and caused the mechanism to hitch up; not until he went slower and softer did it finally give him the necessary slack. By the time he looked up from the task, Chase realized Marcey had been staring at him for a while.

“Contrition? From Chase Lambert? Is there some identity-stealing monster us bottom-tier superheroes weren’t clued in on?”

Despite himself, Chase chuckled a bit, too aware of how many such scenarios the public had been protected from through the years. “If there were, I’d be out of the loop too.” He lifted his arms, allowing his sleeves to droop and the bracelets to be seen easily. “Apollo is officially retired. Only Chase got a second chance at freedom.”

It took several tries for Marcey’s engine to turn over; the sedan shook so hard by the end that the sound of rattling arose from the trunk. Based on the noise, it sounded like wood, a lot of wood, banging together. But then, like a bolt from the sky, the sedan sputtered to life and the shaking ceased.

“Just Chase, huh? That would be unexpectedly nice. I’ve missed my old friend; I just don’t have any room for a former big-timer throwing his weight around.” Her face tightened, the already visible signs of fatigue turning more pronounced. “Seriously, I barely have downtime and keep missing sleep. Don’t add to my plate, don’t be that guy.”

Watching as they drove past a giant sign reading “Home of Apollo”, Chase turned his eyes out to the open road. “The last thing I want is to dwell on the past.”

“Glad to hear it,” Marcey replied, throwing on her blinker. “In that case, why don’t we make a pit stop at Mawde’s. She’s still got the best cobbler in three counties. My treat.”

For the first time since he’d heard the name Derkenville, Chase perked up.

Maybe there were a few perks to going home again.

3

“Ridge City has a lot of great things going for it, but I never found one chef in that whole town who could touch Mawde’s cobbler.” Chase dropped his fork to the plate with a sonorous clatter, leaning back against the squeaky red fabric of the booth. Three empty plates sat before him, along with two drained glasses of milk. One of the many perks of his powers was a chiseled physique no matter what he ate, and Chase made sure to take proper advantage of such a blessing.

Across the table, Marcey looked on with a mix of envy and disgust as she finished her own single plate. “Thank god for her, we lose enough population by the year as it is.”

On the drive over, Chase had noticed several more boarded-up buildings than he remembered from his last visit. Then again, he hadn’t come back in… whenever the Apollo Public Library been opened. A few years, at the minimum.

“How bad are things around here?”

Marcey scraped the last bit of blackberry from her plate before answering, savoring the bittersweet flavor. “Same as when you were around, just worse. Nothing ever took the quarry’s place, and we’re about out of usable farmland to buy up. Every year, our best and brightest flee this place for somewhere that can offer a better future, and it’s not like there’s much to stay here for. Mawde’s cooking being a rare exception.”

Across the diner, a slender, hawkish woman in a blue-checkered dress paused her work at the counter to smile softly.

“You stayed.” It was hard to keep the note of surprise out of his voice. Of everyone he’d known, Marcey always seemed to have the best shot at getting free from Derkenville. Her grades kept her locked at the top of the class, and she’d gotten several scholarship offers before graduation.

“Mom got sick.” Marcey kept her tone flat and detached, leading Chase to wonder how many times she’d given this same speech. “I stuck around to be with her. By the time she… by the time I was ready to move on, I’d missed my window. Then came the powers, which led to me helping out around town, and before you know it, I’m the local superhero. Gets hard to leave once people are depending on you.”

Through their window, on the other side of the street, both could see a giant billboard featuring Apollo’s face grinning at the two, pointing the way toward the Derkenville Dental Center.

“Sorry about your mother. She was good people,” Chase said, quickly focusing on the most salient point of the update.

“Thanks. She always liked you, even before the powers. Mostly before the powers, actually. Thought you got a big head after going off the Ridge City.”

Seeing his own grinning visage blown up to ridiculous proportions, Chase couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, well, she was always smart. Wish I’d realized how far up my own ass I’d gotten before… back when it counted.” He drained the last of his milk, using the break to shamelessly shift the subject.

“Anyway, all the Apollo stuff is old news, I’m much more interested in Stringless. When did you get powers? How did it happen? And most importantly: are they cool?”

“Years flying in the sky saving lives, and you still sound the same old lunkhead.” Marcey rolled her eyes, however she also lifted her right hand, making a quick motion. Out from a pocket on the side of her suit climbed a small wooden puppet of a chimpanzee in a sailor hat. Standing several inches tall, it waved to Chase before leaning against the sugar-packets.

Lowering her arms, Marcey smiled at the puppet before looking across the booth. “Alright, go ahead.”

“Go ahead with what?”

“Tell me how puppet-based powers are creepy. Joke that I got my abilities from being bitten by a radioactive Geppetto. Ask if I’m secretly making the puppets from living flesh and dark arcane arts. Come on, let’s get it out of the way. After years of this power, trust me when I say I have heard them all.”

Swallowing a blithe comment that may have been swimming around his brain, Chase instead focused on the small sailor-chimp hefting packets of sugar out from an over-stuffed caddy. “It’s not… okay, I’m not going to lie and say it isn’t a little creepy. But it’s also really impressive. You’re not controlling him directly, are you? These motions are independent. You manifested autonomy. That’s rare, really rare. Not to mention powerful.”

Marcey’s eyebrows had been rising steadily as he spoke; by the end, they were practically trying to immigrate to her hairline. “You’re just full of surprises today.”

“I used to work with new recruits to the Alliance of Heroic Champions. Assessing their abilities, both what they could already display and the potential for growth, was a big part of training them properly.”

“Ah, yes. Glad you brought that up, actually. It’s part of what I wanted… to… talk…” Marcey’s words trailed off as yelling from the parking lot of Mawde’s grew with a sudden exponential uptick in volume. Thanks to his enhanced senses, Chase picked up the sound of shuffling feet across the gravel lot, along with the all-too-familiar echo of knuckles striking flesh.

For a brief, regrettable moment, Chase almost started to rise out of his chair. The tingle against both of his wrists was enough to keep him rooted in reality, however. Those days were done; Apollo wouldn’t be leaping to anyone’s rescue.

But that didn’t mean they were on their own.

“Not trying to tell you how to do your job, just passing along information from meta-hearing: there’s a fight going on in the parking lot. Sounds like they’re between the pair of pickup trucks.” Chase glanced at rows of vehicles and realized his mistake. “The second pair from us, silver then blue.”

“Appreciate you letting me know, and keeping in your seat.” Again, Marcey lifted her hand and made a gesture, though this time it was no tiny figurine that appeared.

Instead, the trunk of her car exploded open as a half dozen wooden figures climbed forth. A spider with hands at the end of each leg, a raptor with long spindly arms, something that resembled the bottom of a massive squid stitched onto the body of a wolf, specifically where its face should be - all carved from wood yet moving with the malleability of flesh.

Seeing the parade of horrors saunter out of the sedan, Chase had to wonder if Marcey’s particular penchant in puppets might be causing some of the reactions she’d experienced. Because even though he could see the efficiencies in each design, they were still deeply unsettling.

Yet just when Chase thought he’d seen the worst, things took an even darker turn. The final figure to emerge from the trunk was the most normal-looking of the lot, which rendered it the most disturbing. Four limbs, a torso, and a head might have been forgivable, but there was so much more detail: wooden stubble, a soft glaze in the wooden eyes, even a distinct sneer across the wooden lips. This puppet wasn’t simply something human-shaped.

No… this puppet was a person.

4

“Before you say anything, yes, I know they’re ugly and creepy as hell.” Marcey watched as the puppets paraded off into the parking lot, toward the pair of pickups Chase had indicated. “Scooped up a lot of them from an old theatre where the theming was… well, you can see for yourself.”

“You didn’t make them?” Chase watched the human-puppet closely, hunting for the faintest flicker of awareness. All he saw was a wooden, lacquered stare.

Marcey shook her head, poking the sailor-chimp who’d managed to extract all the sugar packets out of the plastic caddy. “I handled a couple, like Ish-Monkey here, but turns out having the power to animate and direct puppets does shit-all to help you in the art of crafting them. And the better they’re made, the stronger they get when I use them, so quality matters. Hence why I make do with leftovers from The Ever-Seeping Madness Puppet Extravaganza.”

“And a guy in a trucker hat.”

“Ah yes, that would be Clyde, though most people call the real one Rusty Clyde.” Leaning back against her red booth, Marcey’s eyes flashed, all but daring him to make an accusation. “Something you’d like to ask?”

As Chase shifted in his seat, he once again felt the tug of the bracelets on his wrists as they snared at his sleeves. A reminder of which of them was a proven criminal, and who was trusted by the people they protected. “Just curious. He seems pretty well-made, and not on theme with the horror-pets.”

“He is at that.” Slowly, Marcey smiled as she held out her hand for Ish-Monkey to climb onto. “A gift from one of the local deputies. She does woodcraft in her spare time, and some of the town’s frequent fliers are locked up often enough to serve as models. I’ve got a few of them stashed around, pretty handy for when you need that human touch. By which I mean opposable thumbs.”

Despite the distance between the scuffle and the booth where he sat, Chase easily heard the puppets arrive. There were shouts and confusion, but mostly what rose up were the brief sounds of combat. In short order, the fighting was over, with all of the humans lying on the gravel. While there were evidently some bruises and sore limbs, he hadn’t caught the sound of a single bone breaking.

Dismantling that sort of volatile situation without serious injury was impressive in itself, that Stringless had managed the feat without ever getting out of their booth all the more so. With the right resources, a better costume, and a steady supply of useful puppets, she could easily become a major name among superheroes.

Not that Chase could provide her with any of those things, or that he expected she’d take them if offered. Because all of that help would be in Ridge City, while the people she protected were here in Derkenville.

By the time they’d paid the check, flashing lights on the other side of the parking lot made it clear that the midday gladiators were in the hands of due process. All of the puppets were back in Marcey’s trunk, which now sat slightly ajar. She wrestled with it for a few seconds before giving up. “Damn it. Third time this month.”

“Do you need it to actually work as a trunk, or just stay in place?” Chase asked.

“No reason to mess with complicated hinges, the puppets never bother trying to open it in the first place. If it stays down, I’m happy.”

Taking hold of the hunk of metal, Chase carefully began to press down, ignoring the pained groans from the trunk’s lid as it was forcibly molded into place. The work took less than a minute before he was leaning back, dusting off his hands. “That should hold.”

“Much as I appreciate it, are we about to get swarmed by Quorum and a bunch of fancy AHC capes for that little show of strength?”

Despite all the efforts he’d taken to hide them, Chase immediately rolled his sleeves up to show Marcey his mechanical cuffs. Neither was buzzing or beeping, both merely emitting the same low-level pulse that buzzed slightly around his skin.

“The tattlers aren’t perfect, but they’ll light up like the old Nelson barn if I start using any real power. Bit of extra muscle, some potent cardio, and the ability to take a punch: that’s all I’ve got these days. Any more than that, and back into the slammer I go.”

“Still, not bad.” Marcey yanked open her own door, motioning for Chase to do the same on his side. “While local jobs aren’t in abundance, someone’s always looking for a strong back.”

Chase got into Marcey’s sedan, taking the time to secure his seatbelt before they peeled out of the parking lot. Through the passenger’s side window, he could see several young men and scattered beer bottles along the ground, the people being steadily rounded up by the local police.

It wasn’t the drunken brawl in the middle of the day that left him unsettled, but rather how unsurprised everyone seemed by it. Marcey, Mawde, and now even the officers helping people into their cars all had bored expressions on their faces. None of this was novel to them; it was just another weekday morning.

With a start, Chase realized Marcey had asked him something. Unable to think of a clever explanation, he fell back on the last gamble of the desperate: using the truth.

“Sorry, I zoned out for a second. What did you say?”

Marcey took a sharp turn, causing Chase’s seatbelt to suddenly tighten. “I asked if you had any ideas on employment. Sure it’s your first day and all, but I assume you’ve put some kind of thought into how you want to fill your time.”

“Now that I can’t be a superhero, you mean.”

Suddenly, the car screeched to a halt, Chase saved from flying forward by his already taut seatbelt. They’d pulled off on the side of Turnball Road, facing the old quarry. There, along the rocky slope, was yet another recreation of Apollo’s grinning face. While ample graffiti adorned other spots, the superhero’s smiling visage was unmarred, although the keen-eyed could notice places where touch-ups had been made.

“That’s the thing: in this town, you still are a superhero. Fuck, you’re the superhero around here. The people of Derkenville don’t buy Professor Quantum or Lodestar merchandise in one tenth the amount they buy Apollo-branded shit.” Marcey turned in her seat, facing Chase. For the first time since the bus station, he could see the years that the job had put on her, the exhaustion and weariness tingeing her every movement.

“They love you, and the hope you represent. Which means they’re going to treat you like a returning king, not a convicted criminal who just got out of jail. I can’t change that, so all I can do is ask you not to abuse that adoration. Because they won’t just let Apollo walk all over them, they’ll thank you for it.”

“I’m not Apollo anymore.” Chase closed his eyes, but the grin was still there, a mocking memory of what he’d once been. “I didn’t come here to take advantage of the hometown love. I didn’t even choose to come here in the first place. All I want is to lay low and figure my shit out.”

Marcey watched him for several seconds longer before throwing the sedan back into drive. “Glad to hear that. Not the ‘you not choosing to come here’ bit, though I get it. Honestly, I was braced for this to be more of a fight; it’s why I made sure to be the first face you saw. Just try to remember that sentiment over the next couple of hours.”

“What’s happening over the next few hours?”

The smile Marcey shot him was a masterful mix of sarcastic and amused. “Why, your welcome home party, of course.”

5

The Welcome Home Party turned out to be a large celebration at Tremont’s Bar, where it seemed like half the town had turned out. Not mere people filling the ranks either, but a flood of familiar faces from the past, all intent on getting their moment with the returning local legend.

The Tompkins Twins were guzzling a margarita and daiquiri respectively as they chatted him up, Gilford Ulmer from up the road kept cornering Chase to talk tractors, and even old Mrs. Kidderson popped in to ask if he was still sleeping through his classes. Among the few faces missing was Marcey; she’d handed over a key and dropped him off, then sped away with a half-muttered excuse about needing to patrol.

Marcey had never been one for socializing, and knowing how disconnected it could feel to be a superhero, Chase wasn’t surprised she’d avoided the scene entirely. Truth be told, he was dearly tempted to do the same, except his new apartment was directly overhead. Patty Tremont, the granddaughter of Emiline Tremont, the bar’s first owner, had apparently insisted on lodging him somewhere proper. Four times during the night, Chase tried to pin her down on the subject of rent, but she would only wave it off as nothing to be concerned with.

As the hours wore on, he realized just how true Marcey’s warning proved to be. Everyone insisted on acting like he was coming back home because there was nowhere else he’d rather be. No… it was more than that, like they wanted to believe Apollo was the one moving back, rather than Chase.

By the time he finally made it to bed, Chase was more than ready to be done with consciousness for a while. The moment he landed on the mattress, which was altogether nothing special yet still worlds ahead of what they’d had in prison, he passed out.

Some hours later, Chase woke with the sun. That was an aspect of his power that had taken a little getting used to, especially as a younger man, but now he valued an early start to the day. More time to get tasks accomplished, and he had a fair few on his mind.

First and foremost: employment. Somewhat paradoxically, Chase didn’t actually need to worry about money. While he wouldn’t be receiving the same cut as an active AHC member, and sales had dropped off substantially, he did receive a portion of the profits from all sales of Apollo merchandise. His proceeds during incarceration were put into various charitable organizations, but with his debt to society paid, the income stream would now resume. Not to mention, he had ample savings from the actual Apollo days.

The trouble was, Chase had trouble touching that cash without an immense sense of guilt. He would use it to cover rent and food initially, but nothing beyond the basics. This was about starting over; while Derkenville wasn’t the location he’d have preferred, it was what he had to work with. And work was exactly what Chase wanted to do. Find a normal job, earn a wage not tainted by his past failures, and start putting the Apollo part of his life truly in the past.

Not that the town of Derkenville seemed inclined to let that happen, but one step at a time.

Chase went for a morning jog, grabbing a paper at the nearby convenience store afterwards. Despite his best efforts to pay, the clerk wouldn’t hear of it, and looked genuinely hurt when Chase tried to push the issue. Resigning himself to the situation, Chase changed tactics, said a sincere thank you, and hurried back up to his apartment.

Another advantage of being up early: fewer people around to run into.

Flipping through the want ads turned up little, though there was an ad for a job-listing service on the town’s website. He should have figured; even hunting for employment was a digital affair these days.

Of what was posted, most seemed to be looking for trade skills that Chase didn’t possess. Quasi-invulnerability would help keep him alive; it didn’t mean he could rewire someone’s outlet or snake their plumbing. If he’d had access to his flight and speed, there were always high-end messenger jobs that allowed remote lodging, but the conditions of his parole killed that idea for multiple reasons.

When he really got down to brass tacks, Chase was little more than a strong, tough guy with a GED as his highest level of education. He knew how to fight, how to patrol, how to be a superhero. All skills that were useless here in Derkenville. Even if Marcey needed the help, there was just about zero chance he’d get approval for the work, and it would all but certainly cause an eventual power-flare.

Not to mention, he didn’t want to see how Derkenville reacted if he started behaving like a superhero. They were already too enamored with the man he’d been; that would solidify his status as Apollo in their eyes forever.

Eventually giving up on the paper, Chase used his phone to pull up the job-listing website. Again, the only skills people needed were ones he didn’t have. Marcey had mentioned the employment situation wasn’t great; he had to assume every job that required merely muscle and motivation had already been snapped up.

Without much of a plan for what to do next, Chase wandered down from his apartment to Tremont’s Bar. He’d burned enough of the day on his search that they were open for lunch, and Chase entered intent on chewing his way through a sandwich while mulling over what his next step would be.

Instead, he stepped through the door only to have a wad of white cotton tossed at his face. Snaring it easily, Chase stretched out the garment to reveal a Tremont’s shirt. The bar didn’t have a gift-shop; these were only printed up for staff to wear.

“You kept asking me about rent. After counting the till last night, I decided maybe you could stand to pitch in a little.” Patty Tremont was packing white sugar packets into ceramic caddies, a whole row of them lined up, waiting to be stuffed. She barely bothered to glance up. “Bartend for me on Wednesday and Saturday nights, you get standard wage plus tips. Make sure to be extra-chatty with the customers who come out, too, especially anyone who keeps buying fresh rounds.”

She was trading on his image, using the implied presence of Apollo to draw in larger crowds. Chase wanted to protest the very notion, except he had no doubt that if he did, she’d never mention the idea again. Or any other form of compensation.

He… no, Apollo could get away with just about anything here. Nobody in town was going to hold him accountable. No one but Marcey, and himself.

Being a sideshow was the last thing he wanted, but it was also a job he wouldn’t be taking from anyone else in town. A job he didn’t technically need in the first place, which hit home all the harder after seeing the scant pickings.

Besides, it wouldn’t be much of a penance to only do the things he wanted.

“I don’t know anything about mixing drinks,” he warned Patty.

She nodded, attention still focused on her ceramic sugar caddies. “Doesn’t matter. Most folks around here only drink draft anyway.”

6

With lunch eaten and his employment squared away, Chase went for an afternoon jog, despite having taken a run that morning. It was a simple thing, the ability to just take off in any direction without walls or cells to hold him back. Even the lax facility he’d been in was still a prison, and Chase felt his joyful lungs swell with air as his legs began to stretch in earnest.

Moving at these speeds, he could effectively run indefinitely. The natural stamina and endurance of his body would easily outpace any fatigue, even without triggering his bracelets - a talent he’d thought would translate more naturally into employment, despite what reality had in store. Still, it was his to use and savor, as Chase left what little of downtown was still functioning, headed out toward the quarry.

At some point in the sixties, a unique mineral had been discovered in what was, at the time, a mundane rock quarry. Chase never dug into the specifics; by the time he was born the veins were all mined dry. Some shell company owned by a nameless investor had purchased the quarry sight unseen, and invested heavily in making sure it was fully explored.

For a time, it had led to a boom in Derkenville, as they were flooded with jobs, from strong laborers, to skilled geologists, to all manner of logistical support. The town expanded, flourished even, as wealth came pouring down the roads.

Until one day, when the quarry and the money both dried up at once.

As soon as the unique mineral was gone, so too went the jobs. Some were gone instantly, others took a few months, but within half a year the once vibrant quarry was desolate. Thanks to the mining methods used, the nearby rock was too damaged to even serve its original purpose, and some of the materials that remained were toxic. More than one specialist had come out to confirm that any aggressive attempts at further mining would likely lead to structural collapse that would cascade out to affect everything within three miles.

Still, at least twice per year, all through Chase’s childhood, he’d heard about one adult or another trying to get approval for a mining expedition. Some of the locals had it in their heads that if they could just find more of that mysterious mineral, everything they’d lost would be returned.

His jog slowed to a halt as Chase arrived at the quarry, Apollo’s grinning face still waiting to greet him. Maybe Derkenville just had trouble letting go in general.

Seeing his own stupid grin, Chase turned around, looking back at the town he’d run from. What would his life look like, if he hadn’t stumbled upon that hidden piece of divinity? It was so long ago, such a different version of himself, he genuinely couldn’t even remember what he’d cared about at the time. Friends, dating, probably college?

No, not college. He’d planned to go, sure, attending the nearby community school, but Chase had never been one to dwell on things like grades or test scores. It wasn’t until he joined the Alliance of Heroic Champions that he had started to learn the importance of thinking ahead, and the value of personal responsibility.

Of course, thinking of his early days inevitably led Chase back to the man who’d taken him under his non-literal wing: Quorum. So much of his early growth had come from that man’s seemingly endless patience paired with gentle guidance. It was because of Quorum that Apollo had taken such an active role in training the AHC’s new recruits. He knew the importance of a good teacher, because he’d been blessed with one himself.

A teacher he’d ultimately betrayed, for the sake of a plan that, in hindsight, was so stupid and petty. What had he really been hoping for? A world at war? The last year had soured any lingering taste for that notion.

Sadly, it appeared not everyone had experienced Chase’s revelation toward conflict. Yelling from down in the quarry drew his attention to a cluster of cars parked in the shade. The trunks were popped open, with half-empty coolers visible. The drinkers of those missing cans were scattered around; some even had their stereos playing, now that he listened close. A small crowd holding what looked a lot like a tailgate, save for the lack of an event to celebrate.

Which meant they were all just getting hammered on a weekday afternoon. Not an uncommon pastime as Chase recalled it, though he’d seen the behavior in his peers. Though considering those were high schoolers at the time, perhaps it was reflective of a deeper, more systemic issue in Derkenville. Regardless, some things apparently didn’t change with time.

More shouting snared Chase’s attention, and he walked further over, changing his angle of view. Now, at last, he could see the source: a small group clustered up around a pair of fighting figures. Letting out a groan, Chase was ten steps down the nearest incline when he paused to wonder just what it was he intended to do.

He wasn’t acting as a cape or a cop; the best he could do was hope his clout as a local celebrity twisted people’s attention.

Before Chase had a chance to get involved, new screams started breaking out, these not nearly so fun-loving.

Horrifying monsters had appeared. Twisted amalgamations shaped from a nightmare, they raced through the crowd… taking away their beers and pulling the keys from any running car’s ignition. The wolf with tentacles where its face should be bounded into the middle of the fight, instantly shifting the bout into a two-on-one.

Recognizing Stringless’s puppets, Chase slowed his sprint to a saunter, appreciating the coordinated way her minions safely settled the situation. Before anyone even realized they’d been busted, she’d removed the likeliest escape vehicles, settled the ongoing altercation, and confiscated the open containers.

“Are you kidding me? Again? It’s been two weeks, two.” Stringless finally appeared in person, stepping from a crevice in the quarry. How she’d slipped around there, Chase had no clue. Clearly she knew her local terrain well.

“Fuck you.” A beer bottle hurtled through the air, blocked by a hulking humanoid puppet substantially larger than Rusty Clyde. It smashed into twinkling remnants, suds running down the sizable wooden forearm.

“Elegant as ever. Here’s what we’re going to do: anyone who’s sober and hasn’t thrown a punch, you can go. The drunks and our two duelists here are coming to get checked over, after which I expect the local police will– ”

“I ain’t getting another arrest on my record!” The man who’d thrown the bottle rushed forward, and the entire group heeded it like a starter pistol. As one, they rushed toward Stringless, who suddenly seemed very small and far away.

7

The mob had numbers, but so did Stringless. What they didn’t have was her level of coordination and teamwork. Smaller puppets paired together, causing members in the crowd to stumble, barring the way for others. While they bought time, the larger puppets struck, cracking down on ankles and knees.

Chase didn’t hear any bones breaking, but most of the men who got hit either stayed down or rose with a limp.

All the while, Stringless herself was calmly making the rounds, using zip ties to secure the hands of those already downed. Her hefty humanoid was always at her side, jumping in when those she was binding tried to struggle.

By the time Chase reached the bottom of the slope, the fight was essentially over, if one could even call it that. She’d clipped them all cleanly, minimized injuries, even offered a reasonable out, if the mob had been smart enough to take it.

“Out looking for trouble already?” Stringless gave him a wave, and while several of her puppets looked his way, none approached.

“Just talking a walk, celebrating my new employment status.”

As they called to one another, the partially subdued drunkards realized another person had arrived. And unfortunately, they recognized who.

“Oh shit! Give it up everyone, it’s Apollo.”

“Apollo’s here? Fucking hell, guess we’re done.”

Similar mumbling ran through the crowd as everyone not already cuffed lay down and put their hands behind their backs. All while using that damned name, again and again.

He looked to Stringless, who was keeping a professional expression, even if he couldn’t help catching the vein throbbing in her neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to– ”

“Forget it. Not your fault. Besides, I’m kind of used to it.” Stringless jerked her head upward, to the portrait of Apollo staring down on them all. “Probably better if I handle this alone, though. Let’s get some coffee later and you can tell me about your new job.”

“Sure thing.” Chase turned and ran back up the slope, covering the ground rapidly as he let his legs really stretch. While nowhere near his top speeds as Apollo, he could easily outpace near any human, and exceptional stamina only compounded his potential.

Chase ran, trying not to focus on the questions echoing in his head, which of course only made them all the louder.

What was he planning to do in that quarry?

Why did Stringless keep putting up with the people in this town?

Was he ever going to feel like anything close to normal again?

Once, he’d loved being different, exceptional, vaunted above the masses. Now, it felt cloying and lonely. Chase wanted nothing more than to blend in with a crowd, but Apollo wouldn’t let that happen.

He was forever preceded by his own past glory, and the downfall which had ended it.

Chase kept running until he found himself near the old roller rink, which, judging from the “Closed” sign and ample graffiti, hadn’t seen any use in a long time. His run slowed as Chase remembered this once-happening spot from his childhood. Derkenville didn’t have a mall, and the parks held little interest for older kids, but they’d always had the roller rink to turn to.

Memories came flooding back as he approached the glass, peering through to the dusty interior. Gone were the arcade cabinets where Chase had logged tens of hours every summer, fighting to reach a high score forever out of grasp. Stripped out were the soda machines where every manner of flavor combination imaginable had been concocted. Even missing were the massive cubbies filled with worn-out skates in all sizes.

More than nostalgic, Chase found himself wondering about the logistics of removing anything that large through the rink’s modest doors.

“Turn around slowly now, hands in the air.”

The voice nearly caused Chase to leap in surprise, an act that would have surely ended poorly for all involved. Turning slowly, lifting his hands up so far that the bracelets slipped out from his sleeves, Chase found a rail-thin man in a police officer’s uniform, one that looked to be hung upon him more than worn.

“You kids kept vandalizing the place so much, we had to start doing patrols. Though you’re a big bit for mischief.”

As Chase stepped fully into the light, the man’s eyes lit up. “Holy shit, Apollo!”

“Just Chase these days.”

“Right, right, like back before. How’ve you been, anyway?” The officer stuck out a hand, which Chase took a cue to slowly lower his own, pausing only to reciprocate the implied shake.

“Doing well enough, getting resettled; guess I got caught up in the memories of this place.”

“Ah yeah, damn shame about them shuttering this spot. People stopped spending on skates, through, so the Perkins twins up and sold it off to some property developer. Course then they folded, and it got sold off again. Don’t rightly know who owns it anymore, only that they ain’t doing shit all with it.”

Standing next to the officer, Chase looked over the rink once more, no longer lost in its spell. As he searched for the right words to extricate himself from an awkward situation, one where he still wasn’t sure if he was being charged with anything, the man beside him added another layer of complication.

“Don’t remember me, do you, Chase?”

Laughing, the slender man put his hands to his head, spreading the fingers to form mock antlers, and let out a distinctive bellow. It was like a dying woodland creature, and instantly Chase heard the same sound echoing through his memories, across countless lunch rooms, pep rallies, and other school functions.

“No freaking way. Moosetadon?”

8

Gavin Mosston, despite what the nickname might imply, was no superhero. Rather, he’d been the biggest lineman on the football team by a wide margin; Moosetadon was coined from his trademark bellow when slamming into, and often through, an opponent. More than mere mass, he’d built up a solid foundation of muscle as well, making the man a force to be reckoned with on the football field.

It was hard reconciling the enormous young man he’d known with the slender fellow sitting across the table at Mawde’s from him. They’d headed over at Gavin’s suggestion; him driving and responding to calls on the radio left little time for chitchat. Not until they’d settled in and propped up their menus did Gavin grin at his old friend.

“Wondering about the weight?”

“It’s certainly a change,” Chase replied, reflexively falling back on his diplomatic instincts as an AHC representative. Statements of simple fact were about as neutral a response as he could manage.

“Gastric bypass, doctor’s orders after a hell of a heart attack.”

Leaning back in shock, Chase looked his old friend over. Gavin was roughly the same age as him, placing him in his mid-thirties; Chase couldn’t quite recall if he’d been a class above or below him in high school. “So young?”

“Turns out I’ve got a genetic predisposition, and the weight wasn’t helping matters. Some surgery and a lot of dietary changes later, here I am.” Gavin motioned to himself, just as their drinks arrived. While Gavin got water, Chase had ordered an orange soda, which he lifted into the air, signaling a toast.

“To your health, may it continue for a long time to come.”

Gavin clinked his glass against Chase’s. “Same back at ya, not that you need it, Apollo.”

Immediately, Chase stiffened, glancing to see if anyone nearby heard the moniker in use. “That’s not my name any–”

“Chill out, man, I know the deal.” Gavin tapped the badge pinned to his chest. “Got a whole debriefing sent over, official AHC email address and everything. Old identity retired, fresh start, all that junk. But no matter how they try to paint it, everyone knows Derkenville has our very own superhero again, even if he can’t act too boldly just yet.”

The yet caught Chase’s attention in a concerning way, however another point was what leapt from his mouth first. “You guys already have a superhero.”

Gavin snorted, the noise coming out notably close to his signature bellow. “Don’t fucking remind me. Bad enough we had those cocks in Rayette try to claim you as their own, then we get Stringless attempting to make a name as the town cape. Thankfully she’s never pulled off anything splashy enough to get media coverage, last thing we’d want is Stringless overwriting your legacy here.”

In the menu Chase was holding, there was a highlighted section with local favorites, including The Apollo Burger, which included a slice of pineapple, presumably to mirror the sun.

“Doesn’t seem to be much risk of that.” Giving the menu another once-over, he confirmed that there was nothing bearing any reference to Stringless.

“Everyone here knows who our real hero is, no matter how many smear campaigns are run against you.” Gavin shook his head, nearly clipping his lip on the glass of water he was about to sip from. “Locking up a superhero for attacking villains, what the hell has the world come to?”

Chase had a sense that this particular topic of conversation wouldn’t lead anywhere productive, so he pivoted back toward what he considered the more interesting topic. “Everyone who uses their gifts to help is a superhero, and Stringless certainly has an impressive one. Those puppets are something to behold.”

“Not much of a fan of the creepy ones, but Margarite’s aren’t so bad. Wish her subjects were better looking, though.”

“Right, Stringless mentioned her human puppets were carved by a deputy. That’s Margarite?”

“Yup. Nice lady, takes a lot of the graveyard shifts. She whittled me a bear for my desk last Christmas.” Gavin lifted his head, scanning the nearby booths, before leaning in closer, motioning for Chase to do the same. “So what’s the plan?”

Chase took a long swig from his orange soda, hoping the gesture masked how dumbstruck he felt by the question. When the glass was half-empty, he finally pulled it down, having not come up with any wittier response than his original instinct. “The plan?”

“Yeah, dumbass, the plan. To get those cuffs off your hands and Apollo back in the sky. You laying low until a big case pops up, or going to work your way back with a bunch of smaller-profile stuff to make it seem more authentic? Either way, if you need some inside tips on where there’s trouble, I’m your guy.”

It was the sincerity in Gavin’s smile that caused Chase’s stomach to twist; the man genuinely thought he was doing the right thing. “All of Derkenville is behind you, buddy, ready and willing to help Apollo rise from the ashes. Or wait, shit, that’s phoenixes isn’t it? Ah hell with it, magic fire is magic fire.”

“Thanks.” Even feeling ill, Chase’s smile never wavered as he slid from the booth. “Going to the restroom, if Mawde comes back, just get me…” The idea of food sent a pang through his stomach, but Gavin was already laughing as he slapped the menu.

“Don’t worry, I know what to order.” His hands were hitting the Apollo Burger, of course.

Wordlessly, Chase walked to the bathroom, calmly closing the door behind him before collapsing onto the toilet, pants still in place. He wanted to vomit, to expel some of the illness crawling through him, but his body wouldn’t commit such acts anymore. At most, he could breathe out a beam of concentrated sunlight, and that power would absolutely cause his bracelets to activate.

Hands pawed at the stubble on his head, the golden curls that once caressed his fingers gone as Chase grappled with the truth of his situation. The bracelets would never allow him to be Apollo, and Derkenville wasn’t going to let him be anything else.

Not for the first time, Chase wondered if he should have just stayed in prison.

9

Chase’s first night of work went far better than it should have, were he a normal bartender.

Rather than sullen drunks looking to drain away the Wednesday doldrums, Chase was treated to an outpouring of locals, for whom he did a lot of pouring out of the taps. Dozens of bodies packed the small bar: fewer than his homecoming party, but a strong turnout to be sure.

Were that the end of it, the whole event might have been enjoyable; however, the constant yells of “Hey Apollo!” were only the tip of the torment. Chase was forced to stop and smile for selfies, sign napkins, and generally cavort as if he weren’t serving penance for his fall from grace.

No one wanted to hear about contrition; they asked to be regaled with stories from the good old days. And Chase could only oblige. This was, after all, his job now. He’d expected to suffer, and was not let down in that regard, as the evening finally came to an end with the crowd chanting a name as he clocked out.

Not his name, though. Not anymore.

Even when signing autographs, Chase had only used his actual name, never the superhero moniker. Only a few had pressed, and he’d brushed the issue off with a mumble of “legal stuff” which garnered knowing, empathetic nods. It wasn’t what they wanted, but Chase couldn’t be what they wanted: the pure paragon of goodness who’d shone so brightly on his hometown.

As the sun rose the next morning, Chase headed out on what had become his routine jog. It was strange how easily he found himself slipping back into life in Derkenville. Like quicksand, it grabbed at him, pulling him into its depths with constant, casual ease.

When his run took him past Derkenville Public High School, Chase slowed down a touch, taking his jog to a steady walk. High school hadn’t really been a great time for him, at least until he’d gotten his powers. For the brief stretch of months before he’d gone public as a superhero, being Chase in those halls had fucking ruled. Muscles, confidence, and a winning smile had flipped high school on its head, to the point where he was slightly sad once the time came to leave.

That fact alone probably should have been a warning about the path he was on.

It wasn’t his first time back since heading off, though, far from it. Chase had been through several times to speak to the younger generations, as well as wave for the cameras when the Apollo Stadium had been opened behind the school. Nevermind that Chase himself hadn’t played football on the team, even post-powers. Too much contact left room for people to be injured. Chase had only suited up for baseball once he became a meta-human.

For a moment, Chase debated heading on in and saying hello to Principal Odell. He was a firecracker of a fellow, barely a decade older than the students he’d been overseeing when first appointed to the position and somehow still in possession of his youthful energy every time Chase visited.

But the warm greetings had always come when he was Apollo. Walking in now, part of Chase feared that Principal Odell would send him right back through the doors without a word, not wanting to expose his students to whatever a fallen cape might be peddling.

Or even worse, Principal Odell would smile and usher him in, acting like the rest of Derkenville.

Picking up the speed once more, Chase let his legs really turn loose, abandoning a jog in favor a full-force sprint. Ever-so-slowly, he felt the accumulation of effort wear on him. Wiping it away would only take a moment to summon the power within, along with lighting up the tattlers on his wrist. Chase pressed on, racing at the limits of human potential without stepping past them. On the straightaways, when there was ample room for it, Chase would close his eyes. At high speeds, with his focus drifting, he could almost pretend to be flying.

Damn, how he missed flying.

It had been his favorite discovery when first learning about his powers. The potential to just cut ties with gravity and go tearing into the sky was an intoxicant no cocktail could replicate. Through the years, that wonder had worn away as he relied on flight as a tool of transportation, but it had never vanished entirely.

Now, stripped down to his weakest self, flight was the gift Chase most wished he could recapture. But if he could fly, would he really stay in Derkenville? Could he, with the winds in his face and freedom in the sky? Objectively, he knew it was probably for the best that flight was currently beyond him.

Yet he still closed his eyes for the straightaway runs and tried to remember the feeling.

Eventually, Chase wound up back at his apartment. After a shower that was more perfunctory than required, he headed back out into town at a more sedate pace. With several days to steady himself, a place to live secured, and a job locked in, Chase was finally free enough to ponder what would come next. Being stuck in Derkenville was a factor beyond his control; that didn’t mean everything out there was.

Perhaps he could start a new business, maybe chase an old hobby, or just… kick back. Accept that the old life was behind him and coast on the love of his past glories. The notion sent an aggressive shiver down Chase’s spine, but he was determined to consider every option, even the ones likely to be immediately tossed out.

The one things Chase knew with certainty was that he needed something to work toward. A goal, a plan, an ambition, anything beyond floating through life with only his regrets as company. While he hadn’t landed on what that might be just yet, Chase was hoping that the right path would present itself in time.

And perhaps his morning meeting would help with that endeavor.

10

Stepping into the coffee shop, he was momentarily confused to notice Marcey waving him over while clad in a brown sweater and gray slacks. It was his first time since arriving in Derkenville to see Stringless out of costume.

After ordering a cappuccino for himself, Chase sat down across from his old friend, trying hard not to stare at the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes. A mostly empty mug of coffee sat on the table before her as Marcey scrolled through her phone, giving Chase a “wait one second” finger as she kept at it.

By the time Chase’s drink was ready and picked up, not to mention sprinkled with some extra cinnamon at the counter, he returned to find Marcey finally finished and draining the last of her mug. “Sorry about that, had to go through all the local alerts and make sure everything was handled.”

“When you first picked me up, you mentioned there being other superheroes around here. Do they ever put in patrols? I feel like you’re the only one out here doing the hours.”

“I may have been overreaching in my description,” Marcey admitted, looking over to the counter and catching the server’s attention. “There are a few of us that work in the area as a whole, but I’m the only local to Derkenville. I’ve got two that are based out of Rayette and one in Erion down the road. We pitch in together for the big stuff; day-to-day we’re on our own, though.”

Wordlessly, the server from the counter walked over with a large pot of coffee and refilled Marcey’s mug. She nodded her thanks and set a handful of bills on the table, which were promptly scooped up. The mechanical routine of it all made clear how frequently this particular exchange took place.

Sipping his own drink, Chase considered his next words with forethought and care. Marcey needed help, and while he was barred from using Apollo’s powers, the expertise of his past self was another matter. Even setting aside the big moves like connecting her with resources or advanced power development, Chase could offer simple things like quality-of-life improvements through patrol optimization.

The trouble was, just about any way he made that offer would be taken as an insult. Like he was implying she couldn’t hack it solo, despite Stringless’s years long track record of doing just that. If only Derkenville wasn’t jamming Apollo in her face at every conceivable opportunity, the topic might not seem so tender.

“You ever miss this bit?” Marcey’s question yanked Chase from his reverie, forcing him back into the conversation. “Back when you were starting out, doing the footwork yourself, before the organization covered all the details.”

“Truthfully? Hell no. I hated all the detective work, trying to figure out who was up to what, working to anticipate danger before it manifested. The AHC kept things simpler. If you were good at ferreting out the truth, you did that. And those of us best at hitting things got to stick to our specialties too.”

“Damn. That does sound nice,” Marcey admitted.

Realizing there might be an avenue to broach the subject, Chase moved things ahead gently, ready to backpedal at the first sign of trouble. “Have you ever considered registering with the AHC? The headquarters is in Ridge City but capes from all over are members.”

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Marcey shook her head. “I’ve never really been much of a joiner. Besides, the AHC seems to have a different methodology than I do. They fly in, save the day, and soar off again to help another in need. I’m not going to pretend I don’t see the value in that approach – it’s a big world with a lot of people who need help – but it’s not what I’m doing.”

There was no arguing that point from either angle. While the AHC did have ample long-term projects designed to help the world at large, Marcey wasn’t wrong that the organization’s primary focus was using their powers to protect lives in danger. Whereas she was practicing long-term care, trying to triage a town that was bleeding out. Neither approach was inherently incorrect – different situations demanded different tactics – but it would make the AHC a tough fit for a cape like Stringless.

Were he still Apollo, the next words would have never left his mouth, but one benefit of a fall from grace was that many of his old duties no longer applied. “What about a different superhero collective? The Alliance of Heroic Champions isn’t the only game out there, even if they are far and away the biggest.”

“I looked into a few. Most either had an agenda that the AHC wouldn’t tolerate or were trying to prove themselves before signing on. The little ones don’t tend to last very long. It’s hard to hang in there when no matter how hard you work, all people can see is the more famous faces.”

For once, there weren’t any representations of Apollo to stare Chase down as Marcey uttered such words. That alone made Chase decide to revisit this establishment more in the future.

“So what I’m hearing is that you’re open to help, as long it comes from a source you don’t expect to try and take over or leave you high-and-dry.” Stretching his arms out, Chase let the bracelets on his wrist catch the shop’s lights. “Maybe someone like a former member of the AHC management who literally can’t leave town or try to do the work himself.”

Noticing the scowl start to form, Chase hurried his words, fully aware he was only getting a single shot at this play.

“Perhaps what you need is a guy who still wants to do some good, to prove he can still help. Someone who wants to atone while stuck in a town that sees him as sinless.”

Although it didn’t break entirely, the scowl softened. Putting the onus of the ask on himself kept it from seeming like he was trying to do Marcey a favor and was instead requesting one of his own. It shifted the dynamic of power, hopefully enough to let Marcey find the notion tolerable.

Because given how quickly she was working through that new mug of coffee, Stringless really did need the help. And honestly, Chase wasn’t lying. Even if he’d strayed from the path, he’d spent most of his life as a superhero. The chance to do good, to help those in need, it called to him. Whether it would reconnect him to his better self or ease a guilty conscience, who could say? But it would certainly be better than sitting on all he was capable of, offering none of it to the world at large.

After another big glug, Marcey set her mug down, eyes never wavering from Chase. “If I were interested in letting you help, only in a very advisory capacity… what would you have in mind?”

11

Sitting at Tremont’s bar as a patron rather than a worker, flipping through the stack of documents before him, Chase had to admit that Stringless had a good handle on things. Her patrol routes were efficient, timetable utilized carefully, and resources well-managed. Really, the biggest failing Marcey had was not accepting that no amount of preparation could overcome a lack of staff.

One cape just wasn’t enough for everything she was trying to do. Stringless not only handled standard patrols around Derkenville and monitored the emergency band, she was also spearheading several local development and improvement projects, or had been before each one eventually fell through. There was no gleaming new community center or fancy science museum in Derkenville, despite the hundreds of hours Stringless had logged trying to help move those projects forward.

Adding in her weekly meetings with other regional superheroes and associated tasks that came from it, her time dealing with small crimes flaring up, and things like giving speeches to local elementary schools, it was clear why Marcey had been guzzling caffeine. That woman was burning the candle at both ends with a third flame in the middle.

Marcey had done an incredible job making the most of what she had, but not a perfect one. The vast majority of her failings weren’t the result of poor judgment either, but matters of simple ignorance. For example, Stringless had no idea there was a non-profit that coordinated school talks for capes in their local areas at no cost. Not only did they ensure that the talks synced well with a class’s established syllabus, the group also handled all of the paperwork and even paid a small stipend for the good deed.

The organization was relatively new, though, formed only in the last two years, and branching out slowly. Chase made a note to give them a call and get the ball rolling for Stringless, one more task on his growing docket. The list of chores should have felt burdensome, yet each entry only served to make Chase feel lighter, relaxing him far better than the half-drunk beer resting on his table.

For the first time since his release… since jail… since he got promoted too high in the AHC… It was hard to say when the malaise started, but sitting here in the booth, Chase felt like he was doing a superhero’s work again. Even if only in a support, advisory capacity, he could help Stringless, and in doing so aid all of the people she watched over.

Sadly, the largest issue was the one that he couldn’t directly offer aid for. What Stringless really needed more than efficiency-fine-tuning was other capes to share the workload. If she were sticking to AHC emergency prioritization protocols she might have been alright – by virtue of its small size Derkenville could only have so many major problems at a single time – but Stringless was far more involved than that.

Just about every moment she had went into the town. It was a level of commitment Chase found admirable, however he also knew no other capes would be inclined to match it. Derkenville wasn’t their home; they didn’t have the same level of investment in seeing it hang on. Hell, Derkenville was his hometown, and Chase had left it behind without a second thought, convincing himself the occasional appearance was more than enough.

Whether stemming from logic or shame, a small voice in his mind piped up, reminding Chase that superheroes weren’t supposed to be filling this kind of role in the first place. Elected officials and civil infrastructure were meant to handle the physical town itself; a cape kept their attention focused on people in need. Which, admittedly, Marcey had been doing, just with a longer-term view.

Again, admirable, but not something easily replicated. Just about the only way Chase could see expanding the number of capes locally would be an incentive and training program like they ran in Faucet Hills, a patrol exchange with neighbors, or a confluence. The first option would take years to establish, the second wasn’t viable for the simple fact that Stringless had so little spare time to trade, and the third was entirely unpredictable.

If he offered to do some consulting for the other local capes, Chase might be able to squeeze some relief out of them in exchange, but he couldn’t bank on them overlooking Apollo’s history the way everyone in Derkenville did. At the very least, it would put him on a backfoot for negotiat–

“Help! Someone help!”

Despite his fall from grace, his time in prison, and the tattlers on his wrists, Chase was still out of his booth and looking around the moment he heard the call. Some instincts were wired too deep, trained too hard. Scanning the bar, he found no scenes of distress, and realized the yells were coming from outside.

Hurtling through the door, Chase checked the street, quickly discovering the source of the trouble. It wasn’t hard, as the god damn bobcat walking down the road drew ample attention. It was sleek and strong with a sandy-colored coat, save for the splashes of red around its muzzle lit by the sunset’s fading light. From the right angle, one could almost mistake it for a normal animal.

Only when one noticed the eyes did its instability become apparent. Bulging to the point of bursting, they were colored dark purple with vibrant spots dotted throughout. No sign of pupil or sclera remained, yet it plodded forward toward a fallen man in a pale green sweater who was struggling back to his feet, efforts betrayed by his own shaking hands.

“Damn it all to hell, another animal got into that fuckin’ quarry runoff!” The voice from behind Chase, which he realized belonged to Patty Tremont herself, acted like a starter pistol. People who’d been frozen by panic were suddenly sprinting off in every direction except toward the bobcat. That flurry of motion seemed to agitate it, however, causing the beast to skitter closer to the nearest potential victim.

Gripped by the terror of a sudden approach, the man in the pale green sweater tumbled back down. Any hope he had of escape was now entirely lost.

Chase was dashing toward the bobcat before he paused to consider the full situation. This animal had clearly been exposed to meta-influences and was displaying abnormal behavior. Unusual abilities wouldn’t be far behind, but it didn’t need any powers to tear a toppled man’s throat out. While Chase was severely weakened on efforts of speed and strength thanks to the tattlers, his body should be able to withstand a bobcat’s normal swipes and bites.

Hopefully, that was all it had in terms of offense.

Slamming his shoulder into the wild beast, Chase sent it hurtling back, causing screams from the people fleeing in that direction. Reaching down, he picked up the fallen man and set him back on his feet, then motioned for him to run. By the time Chase turned back, the bobcat was nearly back upon him.

And those yellow spots scattered through its eyes had started to glow.

12

Even with his powers tamped down, Chase still had put in the years of work as a superhero. He’d faced a myriad of foes; human, animal, and beyond. Each fight had carried its own lesson, even if it was as simple as sharpening one maneuver.

A more common teaching he’d absorbed early was that if something suddenly started glowing, it was best to steer clear.

Grabbing the bobcat by the neck, Chase yanked its head upward, pointing the glowing dots in its eyes toward the sky. Moments later, a font of gray-purple energy came gushing from its mouth, spraying into the air and dissipating. Instantly, the creature in his grip felt weaker as it tried to pull away.

Suddenly, the bobcat was yanked from Chase’s arms by a set of large wooden hands. The puppet of Rusty Clyde and another human-shaped carving were pulling the meta-bobcat to the ground. Chase could see Stringless rushing over with a silver syringe, no doubt a tranquilizer to subdue the maddened animal.

She never got the chance.

The bobcat began to convulse violently, fighting for its freedom with slowly returning energy. But the might in its muscles was not balanced to the strength in its bones, and a sad snap marked the end of its struggle as the poor creature broke its own neck.

Those surrounding the meta-beast didn’t share his sense of melancholy, letting out a raucous cheer that slowly morphed into chants of a familiar name, one that Chase had been working so hard to put out of his own mind.

Across the street, he saw Stringless skid to a stop, shaking her head as she stared at the dead creature. Chase ignored the shouts of his old name and the slaps on the back as he strode over, determined to get ahead of this before another misunderstanding could take root.

“I wasn’t trying to– ”

“It’s okay.” Her tone didn’t really scream “okay” but Stringless didn’t pause long enough for Chase to bring it up. “I mean, the whole thing kind of sucks, but I’m not going to give you hell for saving people’s lives. Especially when you did it without activating your bracelets. No one got killed, that’s the big win here.”

Since his apology had been cut short, Chase shifted into the next topic at the forefront of his mind. “I appreciate it. So, what the hell was that thing anyway? Patty yelled something about quarry runoff?”

“Yeah, be glad you weren’t back here a few years ago. Whatever they did or dug up in that quarry, this strange goop started oozing out of certain sections. Wildlife gets into it and they go… well… you saw for yourself up close and personal. We’ve got it mostly sealed, but occasionally there’s still one of these popping up.”

Although he dearly wanted to think better of his fellow humans, once again experience had taught Chase better. “What happens when humans try to drink it?”

“Hallucinations, chills, and the worst diarrhea you’ve ever heard of.” Stringless chuckled softly. “We had to call in a specialist to treat the morons who tried it, but they served as an excellent cautionary tale.”

Checking back on the crowd, Chase realized they were all steadily filtering back into Tremont’s, now enthused into a far more festive mood with victory and survival to toast. Were he to walk in there, Chase had no doubt where the majority of that attention would flow, and the very notion caused him to shiver.

“Need help taking care of the body?”

Although Stringless’s eyes darted in the direction of the still-chanting crowd, she made no mention of his obvious other social option. “That would be a big help, actually. Those corpses have to be specially stored and disposed of. Whatever is in them can spread if enough of the meat gets eaten by another animal. But I need to sweep the quarry for the runoff and get it sealed off before more of these show up.”

Chase walked over and hefted the bobcat onto his shoulder. It wasn’t an easy lift, however he still had enough strength to manage. “Just tell me where to haul this thing.”

“They’ve got some specialized storage bags at the police station and know who to call for disposal. Take it in there and they’ll get you sorted.” Stringless motioned for her puppets to join her but didn’t depart just yet. “Hey Chase… thank you. For saving Glen. Weird as this situation is, I appreciate you protecting one of our civilians. Especially when I wasn’t going to make it in time.”

She was walking away before Chase could reply, her puppets lining up behind her.

Starting his own journey, Chase trekked across the city with a dead bobcat over his shoulders, reflecting on how quickly things could go awry. Just when he’d felt like things were moving forward in a new direction, he’d been flung back into his old position. It was no one’s fault, save perhaps the companies that had exploited Derkenville’s quarry, but this whole incident would push perception of him firmly back in the Apollo direction.

In a way, it was inevitable. Chase wouldn’t stand on the sidelines when people were in danger; for all his faults, he knew that truth of himself absolutely. Sooner or later, there would eventually be a moment where he had to step up, limited powers and all. Chase just wished that it could have landed slightly further down the spectrum of later.

He was so lost in thought, Chase nearly pushed right through the doors of the station without pausing. Only the glass of the door reflecting the giant animal corpse on his shoulders reminded Chase that perhaps he should approach cautiously.

Knocking on the door twice, he nudged it open, pushing his head through and calling out, “Hey, um… I’ve got something kind of weird I could use some help with.”

“Damn it all, if Old Zeke got his tackle stuck in another…” The clerk’s voice trailed off as he took a good look at Chase and the mound of beast upon his shoulders. “Ah, one of those sumbitches. Don’t drag it in here, I’ll bring the bag out to you first. Once it’s wrapped up, you can get started on the paperwork. Probably won’t see you finish that on my shift, but I can get you started at least.”

A sudden sinking suspicion struck. “There a lot of paperwork on these?”

“Reams of it. I’ll make sure you’ve got enough pens.”

And just like that, Chase understood why Stringless had been all too happy to let him handle the corpse.

13

Setting his pen down, Chase looked out the police station window, taking in the lovely sky of stars filtered through a dirty sheet of glass. Before him was a stack of documents that were indeed sizable, however Chase had worked through them in what he imagined was record time. No amount of superpowers got around the simple truth that the larger an organization grew, the more bureaucracy arose to keep everything stabilized.

And the Alliance of Heroic Champions, where Apollo had been a high-standing member, was a massive organization.

Thus, Chase was far more acquainted with plowing his way through paperwork than most might have imagined. It also helped that he knew so little about the bobcat or what caused it to go mad, so Chase just left all questions on those topics blank. A younger version of himself would have scrambled for answers, but the more experienced Chase understood that no information was preferable to bad information.

Rising from the small desk where he’d been seated to work, tucked away in one of the station’s few interrogation rooms, Chase stepped out into the hall. He wasn’t quite sure who to hand the documents to, and the clerk who’d let him in was nowhere to be seen. Turning a corner, Chase found himself staring at a row of mostly empty desks. While the hour wasn’t by any means late, night had indeed fallen and evidently most of the station had gone home, save for a few whose desk lamps were still glowing.

Including one in front of woman with dark, curly hair who was whittling a small statue of a dog.

“Margarite?” Chase approached slowly, putting on his best charming smile.

The grin may have worked a bit too well, as Margarite looked up from her work and appeared momentarily stunned. “Goodness me, the great Apollo in the flesh.”

“Just Chase these days,” he corrected.

“Right right, sorry, not trying to get you sued or anything.” Margarite set her mostly-carved dog down on her desk, along the knife she’d been using to whittle. “Though I doubt the AHC is listening in on us.”

Rather than step into that conversational nest of vipers, Chase kept to his original purpose. “No problem. I finished filling out all the paperwork for that bobcat, though. Was wondering where to turn it all in?”

“Oh, you can just leave it in the room. I’ll get it all processed before the morning. Upside to evening shifts, ample free time.”

“I’d have thought crime was more prevalent at night than during the day.” It was less a thought than knowledge from years as an active superhero, but Chase was keeping things polite.

Margarite leaned forward, her mop of curls flowing along with the motion. “Well sure, but most people don’t report whatever happens until the morning. Derkenville only really has the one bar these days, and Patty Tremont handles the vast majority of her drunks in-house. Then there’s Stringless doing her patrols to help keep the peace. We’ve got one car that stays out all night and I’m here for coordination, but most nights I get a lot of whittling done, if you catch my drift.”

Something about Margarite’s statement caught Chase off guard, and it took him a fair few seconds to realize this might have been the first time he heard anyone in Derkenville acknowledge Stringless’s efforts, let alone give her credit for helping.

“Stringless mentioned a deputy had whittled Rusty Clyde for her.” Chase’s eyes drifted to the wooden dog, which was admittedly quite well done. “That was really impressive work.”

“Thank you kindly. I also made her Angry Beau and Regular Dave, though she doesn’t usually bring out all three unless there’s real trouble brewing.”

Much as he wanted to stay on topic, curiosity overpowered discipline on this occasion. “Regular Dave?”

“The real Dave didn’t have a nickname like the other two, but a lone name didn’t fit with the precedent, hence Regular Dave,” Margarite explained.

Chase found himself unexpectedly grateful for what he’d expected to be a conversational detour. “I can’t help noticing you mentioned the real Dave in the past tense. Is he…”

“Yup.” Margarite flashed him a thumbs-up, then pointed it over her shoulder, toward the cells. “Incarcerated. Idiot stepped up his normal drunk and disorderly content by driving clean through a snow-cone shack. Thankfully no one was in it, but his judge saw it as the final straw. Dave’s upstate somewhere now.”

“Same for Clyde and Beau I’m guessing?”

Margarite flashed Chase a charming smirk. “Smart as he is handsome. Stringless and I agreed it would be weird to have puppets of people who live in town, so I only make her big ones of citizens who aren’t around to be bothered.”

“Good thinking, I can see that sort of thing getting really weird, really fast.” Although he was tempted to mention the time Apollo had fought against Mirror Mage and his army of duplicated capes as reference, he ultimately decided that would take things in a poor direction. The less he mentioned Apollo, the better, even when his past-self was relevant.

The soft sound of metal scraping across wood brought him back to the moment: Margarite had resumed her whittling, though she kept her focus on Chase. “Seemed like a proper courtesy. And I’ll admit, part of me worried that if folks saw their wooden doppelgängers wandering about, I’d be run out of town. Shame that my only live models are our drunk tank’s frequent fliers, though. I’d love to carve something grander, more distinguished.”

Having been both famous and gifted with a meta-human physique for much of his life, Chase had a very good sense of where that topic was leading, especially as Margarite seemed to be taking his measurements with her eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the interested eye of a dedicated crafter or a lonely soul who worked a lot of solo shifts.

And, to his own surprise, Chase wasn’t certain how he felt about such attention. In his Apollo days, he’d steered largely clear of dating altogether. He’d put that time and energy into the job, and besides, romance was a common cause of scandal. For someone with his ambitions, the upside didn’t justify the risks. Physical needs had been handled through arrangements with other superheroes who were in similar situations. The encounters lacked passion, though not variety, since each involved a powerful metahuman partner.

But he wasn’t Apollo any longer; hell, he wasn’t even a cape at all. Just a bartender who hopefully hadn’t blown his chance at helping the local superhero with her job. There was nothing stopping him from dating, and while Margarite clearly held Apollo in high regard, she’d also been the closest thing to an ally in town Stringless had. That counted for a lot.

It was something he’d have to mull over, not a choice to be made spur of the moment. “If I have some spare time, maybe we can set something up.” Chase hurried out as soon as the line was delivered, not trusting himself to linger.

Besides which, with the body disposed of, he had somewhere to be.

14

Chase arrived at the quarry in time to find a pair of humanoid puppets helping Stringless’s more unique menagerie finish up a rough barrier around a small pool of bright purple sludge. The makeshift fence consisted of hunks of wood, large rocks, and a tremendous amount of barbed wire; nothing too fancy, but it would ideally keep local wildlife from slurping down the strange runoff.

Moving closer, Chase stared closer at the vibrant goo. It was dense, oozing slowly along the ground, which had been built up into a bowl shape by wooden hands. Sniffing, Chase caught a faint whiff of lime and cinnamon, a scent combination his brain wasn’t prepared to receive. It wasn’t necessarily bad – that might have kept curious animals away – just unexpected.

“I realize you’re a powerful meta and all that, but unless you’re dead certain you’re immune to that stuff, I wouldn’t touch it. Wasn’t kidding about how bad that diarrhea is.”

Halting his walk toward the goo, even though he still had a fair bit of distance, Chase quickly redirected over to Stringless herself. “Bobcat is turned in and the paperwork is handled. The entire, gigantic stack of the stuff.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to be helpful.” To Chase’s surprise, Stringless reached over and patted his arm. “Which you were, to be clear. Getting here, finding the runoff, and containing it was a top priority. Unfortunately, when I arrived there were more tracks nearby than just the bobcat, so I’ve got to alert the other local superheroes and start a meta-beast hunt.”

It was a uniquely terrible kind of frustrating to know he could fix this problem in moments and be unable to act. Enhanced perception combined with zooming through the sky at high speeds would make short work of the task that was likely to take up the entirety of Stringless’s night, if not her week as a whole.

“Is there anything I can do to make it easier? Maybe check the local reports or call around to see if there have been sightings?”

Rumbles echoed from nearby as a series of rocks fell down a steep slope: one of the pitfalls of hanging around in a quarry. When the noise faded, Chase found Stringless gazing right at him. “Actually… it would be a big help if you drove. The more puppets I use, the more focus it takes to keep them all moving. If I can just sit in a car and ride while we head to meet the others, I can let my puppets get the search started. Every moment counts.”

Although his head was already nodding, Chase’s voice came out a bit more sheepish. “Glad to. Though I haven’t actually had to drive in… it’s been a while.”

“Upside to driving a shitty car: you can only really do so much damage."

Facing the puppets, Stringless raised her arms up high and closed her eyes. For several moments, she stood like that, as if she were leading a solo yoga class for a group of wooden attendees. Then the puppets were moving, all at once and in different directions.

The quadrupeds like the wolf with tentacles on its face were the fastest, dashing off toward the nearest patch of wilderness. Others headed back toward town, looped around the quarry, and a few climbed into the trunk of Stringless’s sedan, parked nearby. Letting her arms drop like they were clutching kettlebells, Stringless sucked in a long breath to steady herself.

“Alright, got the initial orders set up. I’ll monitor and adjust as we go.”

Although the trip to the car was a short one, it took several minutes due to the sedate pace Stringless maintained. Her steps were careful and measured, attention constantly flitting elsewhere, to the point where Chase had to stand at her side lest she go tumbling down. Not until they were actually in her car and buckled up did he dare mutter a single word.

“Hey Stringless, you have to tell me where I’m going.”

“Ugh, you’re so helpless. Some big fancy superhero.” With a wink, Stringless produced a phone from her pocket and plugged it into her car through a small cable on the dash. Though the car itself lacked a display, a robotic voice began to shout out directions, and Chase could always glance to the phone itself for a visual cue.

“I’ll let you in on something: getting superheroes to the right location is one of the big challenges of the AHC. You’d be amazed how many capes have hidden directional screens built into their mask displays just so they can actually be at the right address in time. That’s part of why we have new capes start off in the towns where they already live: better chance they’ll know the routes and terrain.”

“Mmmhmm.” Stringless had her eyes closed once more, barely responding this time. Chase waited, driving on in silence with only the robotic chirp of directions to break things up. It wasn’t until they were halfway to Rayette that Stringless seemed to come back to herself. “Sorry about that, had some leads to chase down.”

Taking a quick swerve to veer away from a wild driver who was blasting up on their left, Chase flashed her one of his best reassuring smiles. Given how many new superheroes he’d had to comfort through the years, it was well-practiced and quite effective. “No apology needed. You’re on the job; that’s more important than small talk.”

Stringless popped open her glovebox, removing a white pill bottle that rattled about in her hand. She cracked open the top with a practiced motion and swallowed two of the tablets inside with a pair of powerful gulps. As someone who always needed water for medication, Chase couldn’t help but be a bit impressed by the admittedly minor feat.

“Being able to see through my puppets is handy for directing them, but fuck me, do the migraines set in once I’m looking through too many eyes at once.”

“How many are you controlling right now anyway?” Chase was well aware of the usual limit for that sort of power was, and from what he’d seen Marcey was already past it.

It took Stringless a moment to respond, as she was gulping down a third tablet before finally putting the bottle away. “Baker’s dozen, a clean thirteen. My limit used to be around six, but Derkenville has certainly given me a lot of time to practice.”

Thanks to his years of training and well-honed body control, Chase didn’t do anything as ridiculous as swerve the sedan around in shock or yelp out loud. While he muddled over how to respond, Stringless shut her eyes once more, leaning her head against the window and getting back to work.

Much as he’d been enjoying the conversation, Chase was glad for the reprieve, because he wasn’t entirely sure what to say to a statement like that. He didn’t think she was lying, especially given how many of the puppets he’d seen her controlling at once. The bigger question was if Stringless had any concept of what that number signified.

Animating objects was notoriously draining, on par with summoning. The higher the degree of control, the greater that toll became, and sharing an animated entity’s senses signified a very powerful connection. For that level of animation, most metas like her would be limited to one or two at a time.

The truly talented, those born with notable gifts, might reach four, five, even six. Anyone who could manage seven simultaneous animations, however, was considered among the most powerful of their kind. In the whole of the AHC, only two superheroes had reached such a level of capability.

But when it came to double digits, Chase has no statistic to pull from. Because, so far as he was aware, no animator had even managed such a feat.

No one except the unloved champion of Derkenville.

15

Their destination, as it turned out, was a juice bar in Rayette. Smooth Dee’s Smoothies had a neon-laced sign of a smiling woman with big pink sunglasses and matching nails holding up a branded cup, every pink element already aglow.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Chase noticed Stringless sucking in a long breath and visibly bracing herself. “It’s okay, I know I have to stay in the car.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, good thinking. That would make things… Smart call.”

“You okay? I assumed the stress was from building up to telling me I was only a chauffeur tonight.”

“I think if anyone in this town understands your situation, it’s you,” Stringless said, words that Chase felt fairly sure were intended as a compliment. “No, it’s more that dealing with the Rayette capes can be a bit much. Good folks, they just don’t have a lot of love for Derkenville, nor understand why I stay.”

Chase couldn’t blame them much for those sins, not when he was harboring the same ones. “Are they trying to recruit you?”

To that, Stringless snorted. “For sure, I bet they can’t wait to have the creepy puppet girl on their squad, dragging down all their PR scores.”

Despite the discussion at hand, Chase’s old instincts surfaced so suddenly he didn’t even think to cut them off. “PR doesn’t use scores so much as ranges. You’re dealing with massive swaths of people, millions to billions depending on the exposure, so no one will have a static appeal. It’s more about figuring out who would like a particular superhero and making sure they’re aware of those capes.”

After staring at him for several prolonged seconds, Stringless put her head against the passenger window and chuckled. “It’s so weird to hear you shift into professional mode. Even knowing how high you rose in the AHC, to me you’ve always been the same goof who stumbled into powers. Sometimes, I forget how much shit you actually know.”

“Well if you’re feeling receptive, all I’ll say is that there is absolutely a market for you: creepy puppets and all. Honestly those are more boon than burden; people love the unsettling. Look at how many turn out when Hallowville shows up somewhere.”

“Thanks, pep talk noted and appreciated.” Sucking down one more breath, Stringless clapped her hands together three times, then let out a small yell. “Alright, that’s about as amped as I get. Be back soon.”

Popping the door, Marcey strolled across the parking lot in full costume, receiving an odd look from a mother loading three kids into a minivan. Superheroes were hardly unheard of, but it was rare to catch them walking around outside of major cities. Smaller locales typically only saw active capes when their presence was required, unlike Ridge City where they practically rained out of windows.

Through the window of Smooth Dee’s Smoothies, Chase could make out three other costumed figures sitting at a high-top table. They all rose to greet Stringless as she entered, offering a friendly reception.

One was a tall woman with feathers growing out of her head alongside her hair; another was a short fellow with the bulk of someone wielding super-strength, and the final member of Rayette’s heroes was covered from head to toe. Dark gloves and boots, what looked to be a well-tailored ensemble, and a plum-colored cloak that obscured the face, at least from Chase’s angle.

He recognized none of them, as expected, and had little else to do but watch as the quartet got their drinks and hunkered down to talk.

With boredom creeping in, Chase leaned the driver’s seat back and examined his surroundings. If nothing else, he could function as a lookout. But to his shock, Chase’s eyes caught sight of a familiar roof as he scanned the area. Between the talk with Stringless and the digital voice yelling directions without a map to consult, Chase hadn’t realized they’d made it so far east.

There, only a few blocks away from where he was parked, sat the Rayette Natural History Museum. Just the roof was enough to pull Chase back through time, before the name Apollo was anything other than a word from a reading assignment he’d barely bothered to skim. But he’d been excited for the museum, because what kid wasn’t excited to be out of school. The fact that there was a traveling exhibit with newly-discovered artifacts was a background detail he’d barely registered.

Just like he hadn’t noticed Jimmy Canderson’s foot poking out when they were walking around the exhibit. That guy had always been a prick, rotating his aggression through the class without warning. That day, for whatever reason, Chase had been the target. Tripping on the larger boy’s shoe, Chase had lost his own footing and gone stumbling forward, past the velvet rope meant to keep guests at bay.

Cracking his head on the vase’s display pedestal hurt like a bastard, yet it paled in horror to the sound of ancient materials shattering. In that moment, Chase knew his life was over. Even if they weren’t held entirely liable, the fines for such an action would crush his poor over-worked father already struggling to get by.

It was funny, in hindsight. Younger Chase has been right. When that shard of divinity flared within the rubble, from the moment his hand closed around the brightly glowing object, life as he knew it came to an undeniable end. From that instant on, he was no longer merely Chase Lambert. He’d become something more, something stronger, something greater.

And just look at how he’d pissed that potential away.

Turning his eyes back to the four capes inside the juice bar, Chase tried to imagine what his life might have been like if his powers had been less incredible. He probably would have stayed local for longer. Not being called up to assist in major incidents would almost certainly have slowed his move to Ridge City. Maybe long enough that he’d have been around when Marcey got her powers.

Together, they would have likely worked together, mastering their abilities without the shadow of a well-known cape looming endlessly overhead. Hell, they’d be the first superheroes Derkenville had ever produced.

Stringless’s plight wasn’t directly Chase’s fault, yet he still couldn’t shake the lingering sense of guilt. Much as he hated being back in Derkenville, at least this was a chance to try and help. So long as his presence didn’t end up making things more complicated, a possibility Chase was too experienced to dismiss.

Without warning, he was snapped from her reverie by Stringless darting out of the juice bar, sprinting over to the car and banging on the windows. “Chase! Get the engine going, one of my puppets found another animal hopped up on quarry-gunk!”

Sitting stunned for only a second, Chase quickly turned the key, revved the engine, and then waited patiently while Stringless hopped into the passenger seat.

16

Navigating by GPS was already something of an annoyance, but it had nothing on trying to jerk a car around the roads while Marcey tracked a meta-animal through her puppets. While she had a general knowledge of each one’s location, it wasn’t the same as turn-by-turn directions, and the pair lost a notable amount of time just trying to whip their way around the streets.

Had there actually been more law enforcement out, Chase has no doubt they’d have accrued several tickets. Luckily, or not, Marcey was leading them back toward Derkenville.

“It’s moving north, trailing along a stream – still in the woods, though.”

The best break they’d gotten through the whole experience was that the creature was out in nature, away from humanity. With no one in immediate danger, they had the luxury of driving over. If Marcey told him there was a person in danger, though… Chase honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do in that moment.

It would arrive, Chase knew that as surely as he knew the sun would rise come morning. Secrets always came out and weaknesses were discovered over enough time. Eventually, life, fate, or some scheming crook would force him into a position to choose: upholding the terms of his parole and letting someone innocent suffer, or blowing up his chance at freedom. The best he could hope for was to prepare mentally and one day meet that moment on his own terms.

“Shifted west, I think it might be circling back to the quarry,” Stringless updated.

“Do they usually go back for a second dose?”

“Occasionally, though the results are never pretty.” Without warning Stringless’s face dropped, her skin paling by a shade or two. “Oh no.”

Chase’s grip on the wheel tightened, causing it to groan in protest. Restrained or not, he was still far stronger than an average driver. “What’s the ‘uh oh’ mean?”

“It means I was pretty sure the meta-animal we’ve been tracking started out as a wolf, though it is really warped. Well, that theory just got confirmed, because the one I’m trailing joined with another member of its pack. One that’s also been mutated by the quarry goop.”

She didn’t have to say it; Chase could already see the worst-case scenario. “So we might have an entire pack of meta-wolves combing the forest?”

“It’s possible these two were off on their own when they drank, but…” Stringless shrugged. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “This is too much for me, isn’t it?”

Technically, with a meta-human of Chase’s caliber at her side, the situation was considered well within the range of handling. But the truth of the matter was, even if he were still fully Apollo, he’d be calling the situation in to the AHC. Information was a battlefield all its own, one there were others more skilled in navigating than him. The Alliance of Heroic Champions allowed every cape to use their particular gifts to offer the most aid. Sometimes that involved swooping in to save the day; for others it was all about finding those places that needed swooping in the first place.

“You’re Derkenville’s superhero. You know the town and the situation better than me. It’s your call.” Whatever Chase might believe about the situation, so long as there was no known life in danger, this wasn’t his show. Even then, he was supposed to stay sidelined, it was just a matter of whether or not he would.

Chewing her bottom lip for several long minutes, Stringless finally nodded. “I’ve directed most of my puppets back to the area around the quarry. It’ll take them time to get there, but they should also be able to scope the region for more wolves as they move. After the meta-bobcat, even our most reckless residents won’t be out around there tonight. If we can get the pair, we grab them. If it becomes more than we can handle, we’ll call in some backup.”

Not a perfect plan, though Chase had encountered very few of those to begin with, but a serviceable one for the moment. Stringless’s ability to see through so many puppets augmented her information-gathering capabilities something fierce, and no one knew Derkenville better than its long-term guardian.

Veering and swerving through streets, to highways, to back roads, they finally had to abandon the sedan entirely at a rustic parking lot alongside a disused nature trail. The whole time, Stringless kept a running commentary on the wolves’ activities, assuring Chase that they were still by themselves. There was one moment of near trouble upon arrival, when Chase found a hulking form suddenly standing in the sedan’s headlights.

Only when he realized the muscular man was formed from wood did he relax. “One of yours?”

“Figured I’d need a hand to match whatever pace you can jog.” Stringless popped her door open and hustled out, with Chase only a few steps behind. Once outside the car, he could get a proper look at the boulder of a man fashioned out of wood.

“Angry Beau or Regular Dave?”

“Looks like someone has been chatting up Margarite. She’s a sweet lady, don’t go breaking her heart.” Stringless shot Chase a teasing wink, along with a smile that he took to be encouraging. “That one is Regular Dave. The real version looked about the same, maybe a little smaller. Not a meta, just a man who loved weightlifting, and eventually supplemented that with some chemicals that made him prone to fits of rage. That’s why he never had a nickname: guy was too unpredictable, never knew if he’d beat the hell out of someone for using a name he suddenly didn’t like.”

It wasn’t hard to see why Regular Dave had ended up in permanent incarceration, nor why he’d made a good puppet candidate. Margarite had done an incredible job. There was even a touch of quiet malice worked into the wooden expression, one that didn’t shift or change as Regular Dave leaned down and scooped up Stringless, setting her on his back in a piggy-back pose.

Just as she was getting settled in, Stringless let out a sharp breath. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” Chase spun around, bracing for the ambush he now expected to launch at any moment.

“The wolves just met more of their pack. Three others. They’re not far from us.” Hesitating only for a moment, Stringless patted Regular Dave on the shoulder once, then yelled to Chase as her puppet surged forward, barreling into the woods.

“I have to go stop them! Follow the trail if you can’t keep up.” She was gone in moments, the powerful puppet proving its carved might was for more than just display.

At least Chase didn’t have to wonder about what trail she meant. Thanks to his bulk, strength, and speedy departure, Regular Dave had crushed or torn just about any piece of foliage he encountered. Tracking his movements would be roughly as hard as following a bulldozer, albeit one that could move pretty damn fast.

In seconds, Chase was sprinting along as well, unexpectedly glad for all the practice from his morning runs.

17

It was strange to fall behind.

Chase wasn’t entirely sure the last time he’d experienced such a sensation. There was the occasion early on his career where he asked Lodestar for a race under the auspices of wanting to better grasp his own speed’s limitations, though looking back, he could see the workings of ego at play. Not that there was much of that left standing after Lodestar easily matched and exceeded his pace without so much as a break in her stride.

In hindsight, perhaps that was the day he really understood that even his incredible powers weren’t enough to reach the top of the mountain. Not once he’d gotten a glimpse of its true heights.

This was different, though. He had the speed to catch up, to surpass Stringless and her puppets, only doing so would activate those damned bracelets on his wrists. It wasn’t the same as holding himself back, more that he was being held back, and Chase found he didn’t care for it one bit. Especially as his friend expanded her lead, pulling further into the distance.

Since he couldn’t activate his powers, Chase instead narrowed his focus onto the task of running. Breaths evened out, his loping stride found a more consistent rhythm, and the scenery began to pass at a slightly brisker rate. It wasn’t enough to close the divide between him and Stringless, but it was a step closer.

Chase was so focused on running, in fact, that he nearly didn’t react in time when a wolf covered in yellow spots burst from the nearby underbrush. Had he not known what the creature started out as, Chase wasn’t certain he’d have been able to guess. Along with the spots, this wolf had gained bulging growths all along its body, giving it a lumpy aesthetic that had to be painful.

Letting out a savage grunt that was neither howl nor bark, the wolf hurled itself forward with shocking force, crashing through a series of branches as Chase nimbly stepped out of the way. “Sudden strength augmentation, huh? I’m guessing you can barely control your movement with all that power coursing through you.”

Shaking off the impact of landing, the wolf slowly pulled itself back up, eyes bulging and drool constantly pouring out of its half-open mouth. Either it had gotten a bigger dose of that mutagen gunk than the bobcat or it was having a much worse reaction. Chase honestly wasn’t sure how the thing was even still functioning. It had to be working off pure instinct by now.

When the creature that had once been a wolf exploded off the ground in a sudden lunge, Chase was ready. Much as he hated to take a life, this creature was unquestionably suffering and would likely attack any living being it encountered: human or wildlife.

As the wolf rushed past where Chase had been standing a moment prior, the former superhero’s hands shot forth and grabbed the creature by the skull, holding it in place. Its own momentum took care of the rest, snapping the neck so violently it likely would have dislodged from the body if not for all the dense growths holding the two pieces together.

Hefting the wolf’s body over his shoulder since he knew it needed proper disposal, Chase resumed his chase of Stringless and Regular Dave, hoping they hadn’t gotten too far ahead. The additional weight didn’t slow him by much; his strength wasn’t the limiting factor. But with him already losing ground, that small bit of resistance put him even further behind Stringless.

Tempted as Chase was to push himself to the point of activating his bracelets, he reminded himself that not only had Stringless been handling this job for years without him, she also was far from helpless. A pack of wolves wouldn’t fare well against the combined might of her puppets, meta-beasts or not.

Of course, that assumed she had enough of her puppets to win. With them so spread out for searching, Chase wasn’t sure how many she’d rallied at the quarry. The thought of how to reach her was so consuming, Chase nearly missed it when he actually arrived on the scene.

Bursting out of the brush with the dead wolf slung over his shoulder, Chase skidded to a halt at the scene playing out before him. By his count, there were seven wolves running about. Similar to the one he’d slain, their bodies were swollen and warped. However, while the first wolf had clearly been suffering from the change, these had adapted better. Their growths appeared to be shaped around the muscles of their bodies, rather than manifesting as bulging lumps.

The difference between wolves was stark and immediately noticeable.

While Chase’s foe had been staggering about, these retained their grace, adding unnatural strength into the equation. They too would blast themselves off the ground, turning into furry missiles launched teeth-first at any of their enemies, slamming into the puppets hard enough to send them sprawling back.

Stringless had managed to summon eight of her puppets, giving her a technical numbers advantage, though Regular Dave stayed by her side to act as a bodyguard. Unfortunately, her puppets were individually weaker than the wolves, meaning each one-on-one matchup favored the meta-beasts. Nevertheless, they were holding strong, ducking and diving to dodge damage as much as they could, keeping the pack split up and occupied.

It was a stalemate. On her own, Stringless would have to defend until more puppets arrived or one force began to whittle down the other. But she wasn’t alone, for once. Today, Stringless had tapped into what he’d been taught was a superhero’s greatest advantage: the ability to call on other capes for help. No one could do it all on their own, not even the Champions’ Congress. That’s why there was an alliance of heroic champions in the first place.

Granted, Chase was no superhero. Not anymore, and certainly not today. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t help out a friend in need.

Rearing back, Chase hurled the dead wolf’s body just as one of its kin took a giant leap, hurtling toward Regular Dave. The corpse smashed into the living wolf’s flank, knocking it off course and drawing a surprised growl. As the creature disentangled itself from the dead wolf’s limp limbs, Chase rushed forward. By the time he was in spitting distance, the wolf was free and glaring at him.

It was admittedly brutish, but there were few things to distract a monster like hitting them with one of their kin’s dead body. Most would either become incensed or start devouring the remains. Either way, it pulled attention away from the more vulnerable targets on the field, such as Stringless.

In this case, the wolf was visibly furious, gnashing its teeth as it blasted off toward Chase, gnarled mouth of warped fangs on a crash-course with his throat.

18

Unlike the first wolf, this one was moving far too quickly for Chase to simply grab by the head. It took all he had to even avoid the attack, pushing himself to speeds he feared might trip the bracelets. Although he was pretty sure he was tough enough to withstand these creatures’ bites without pulling on his power substantially, that was a poor gamble to take when dodging was on the table.

Even if it didn’t look especially dignified as he threw himself to the earth, cheek grazing the muddy ground as he hustled back into his feet.

Thanks to the power of its own leap, the meta-wolf had sailed well past Chase’s location, giving him a few desperate moments to reorient himself. More of the wolves were racing toward him, his efforts as a distraction having officially been proven successful.

For a moment, Chase felt a rush of fear facing down three more sets of augmented jaws slobbering at the sight of his limbs. It was so strange, the sensation of terror against what he’d once have deemed to be minor threats. But they didn’t feel nearly so trivial without a golden aura of power wrapped around him.

The moment, potent as it was, proved to be short-lived. While the wolves had allowed their attention to be stolen, the original threats they’d been facing off with remained. Now free to coordinate, the puppets struck down their remaining foes in teams of two or three, savagely snapping spines and skewering necks. It was bloody and brutal, but these creatures were too aggressive and powerful to treat as anything less than the genuine dangers they were.

By the time the trio of wolves and the original attacker reunited at the point where Chase had been standing, he was already halfway back to the puppets, who were polishing off the last of their opponents. The wolves gave chase without pause or consideration of the shifting numbers. Whatever those chemicals did to their mind had evidently eroded out everything but the most basic of urges, especially those related to hunting and prey.

Two of his pursuers launched themselves like missiles, pincering in on Chase from both directions. With the third still running to give chase, he didn’t have the option of halting. Chase’s only choices appeared to be sprinting forward fast enough to miss the attack or letting the wolves test their teeth on his durable skin.

Of course, that failed to take into account one aspect of his powers Chase hadn’t gotten much use out from lately. With a sudden leap, he sent himself directly upward, avoiding the attacks from all three directions. True flight might be more than he could manage without breaking the conditions of his parole, but leaping multiple wolves in a single bound was just barely within his capabilities.

The maneuver only bought him a few moments, in truth. As the launched wolves landed and hurried to turn around, the one in the rear raced to his likely landing location with jaws already parted. Just like their counterparts, these wolves had allowed a focus on prey to blind their awareness of other threats.

Such as the seven puppets descending upon them with murderous efficiency.

From his vantage point up in the air, Chase had an excellent view of the way Stringless’s tentacle wolf drove its wooden appendages into its meta-cousin, tearing at the creature’s joints and ligaments. The other meta-wolf was ripped in half by a bear with the face of a weeping owl and something that looked like a jaguar spliced with a goat.

Whoever ran that puppet show apparently had a lot of stuff they were working through.

By the time Chase landed, the last wolf was pinned down by Regular Dave, who’d finally left Stringless’s side now that there was only a single threat to consider. His massive fist slammed down once, twice, and then with the third blow, it was finished.

Altogether, the fight had lasted maybe two minutes, and the majority of that was Chase running around. Not exactly a night-long siege against unconquerable forces, but it had been a harrowing two minutes all the same.

“Are you okay? Did the wolves catch you at all? Their mouths already aren’t very sanitary and that was before any meta-conversion, so if you got even a scrape we should take you to a hospital just to be sure.”

“Fit and fine,” Chase assured her, nearly breaking into a flex out of habit to demonstrate how unharmed he was. Some of his old Apollo behaviors were… very embarrassing, with the benefit of distance and hindsight. “They never landed so much a single tooth.”

Too fast, her head bobbed up and down. “Okay…. okay…” Stringless was breathing deeply as her hands shook, visibly coming down from the effect of adrenaline. “That was nuts, you know that, right? If you’d gotten hurt or pushed yourself too hard– ”

“Then that would have been on me. Just like you’d never put the blame for an injury you took on of the people you were defending. I’m a grown man who made a decision with full knowledge of the potential consequences.” Chase’s tone was gentle yet unyielding. If Stringless ever wanted to seriously work with other superheroes, she’d have to make peace with the fact that they were likely going to put their own lives on the line, and she wasn’t responsible for however things shook out in those occasions.

It was, in truth, a lesson Chase could have dearly used in his time before the AHC. Being the strongest often led to him overstepping and leaping into others’ fights. Best intentions or not, there was more than one occasion where him interfering at the wrong time almost led to disaster. That was the benefit of consistent teams; working with the same superheroes allowed you to learn where each member specialized and know when to steer clear versus when to lend a hand.

As the shakes in her hands slowed, Stringless tilted her head back, taking in Chase from a slightly different angle. “In moments like this, I get why the town is so stubborn in their refusal to let go of Apollo. I bet you gave one hell of a mid-battle inspiration speech.”

With one more deep breath, Stringless appeared to recover the majority of her composure. “Thanks. Don’t think I’ve said that yet, but thank you. For the driving, the help, and for handling this whole situation a lot better than I honestly expected you would. I know it’s all a weird clusterfuck with Derkenville and Apollo and all that, but none of that is your fault. Even if sometimes I need a little distance to process it.”

“I appreciate that. More than you might believe.” Grinning slyly, Chase waved his arm toward the blood-splattered battlefield littered with the remains of potentially toxic corpses. “But be honest, how much of that was just because you want help getting this cleaned up?”

Stringless was silent for a moment before a small smirk of her own emerged. “If I say fifty percent, will you still pitch in?”

“Sucker. I’d have done it for ten.”

19

It was deep into the night by the time Stringless declared the battlefield to be officially contained. There was little art to the process; mostly her puppets tromped around tearing up any bits of foliage that were coated in the wolves’ contaminated blood. The bodies themselves were piled into plastic bags that another puppet arrived carrying. These weren’t specialized to the task of dead body containment; in fact, they looked as if Stringless had bought them in bulk from a local big box store.

The voluminous plastic bags did their job, though, containing each of the dead bodies as they were steadily loaded into Stringless’s poor overloaded sedan. First the trunk filled up, then the back seat, and finally Chase had to let go of his ride home as they jammed the last two bags into the passenger side of Marcey’s car. It looked like she was heading to the dump and smelled like she was just home from a slaughterhouse, but the doors and trunk were all able to safely latch.

“Sure you don’t mind getting left out here?” Stringless asked yet again. She didn’t have a better idea to offer, just seemed to feel guilty that his reward for a night of service was hoofing it back to town.

“May as well knock out the morning jog while I’ve got my heart pumping.” Chase knocked a fist into his chest twice. “Oh yeah, that’s high-octane, gotta burn that off before I can sleep.”

“Whatever, dork. Thanks again for the assist. Maybe we can try it again sometime. Hopefully not with a pack of meta-wolves, though.” Stringless didn’t linger after the statement that left Chase momentarily stunned, capitalizing on the moment of silence to make her escape. The sedan squealed as it pulled out, weighed down by the bevy of corpses, but eventually the wheels caught and everything lurched into motion.

Chase watched her go, staring at the lights as they took several turns and eventually vanished. Rather than jog back toward town, however, he picked another direction entirely: the quarry.

Something was off. He didn’t know quite what, but there was some strange factor prickling at his intuition. Chase might not have been the most observant, brilliant, or deductive of superheroes, but one thing even Apollo’s most ardent critics had to admit was that the man put in the hours. He’d used that near-limitless stamina to take on multiple jobs and patrols every night, building experience faster than most of his peers were physically capable of.

It didn’t mean he’d seen every problem before or that he instantly understood each quandary before him, but it offered a wealth of knowledge to draw from. In moments like these, where Chase could sense that something was amiss without noting the precise details, he’d learned to trust himself and poke deeper. Sometimes he was wrong, however the consequences to those situations were far more manageable than the times he’d ignored his gut and it proved to be right.

At worst, doing too much would cause problems for him. Doing too little could endanger others, and that was where Chase had to draw the line. Even if he was a fallen cape out on highly conditional parole, part of Chase still held himself to the standards of a superhero.

Arriving back at the quarry, Chase slowed down. He skimmed past the area where they’d fought, more than confident he’d seen every inch of grass while hunting for rogue flecks of blood. As he neared the quarry, the scent of stone and something unsettling wafted over, remnants of whatever goo had oozed out and caused the mutations to begin with.

Chase checked the spot where the leak had occurred, finding it well blocked off with a combination of rocks, fencing, and several large divots in the ground. Hurriedly put together, yet effective. A small puddle of the ooze had dribbled forth, and while Chase gave it a quick sniff, he didn’t linger for long. Odd as that gunk might be, it was a known entity. He was looking for something else, even if he wasn’t sure what that something might be.

Approaching an old opening to the quarry, Chase was about to start into the narrow tunnel when a harsh light flared across his body, casting him in brightness. Thanks to his particular affinity with light, his eyes adjusted near-instantly, allowing him to see a familiar balding form holding the flashlight.

“Young man, please come down from there. I’m well aware it’s common hazing to send younger students out here, especially on nights where a mad creature has been spotted, but I assure you there’s not glory to be found down that hole. Only demise.”

Chase knew the voice, even if he hadn’t spied the familiar head. Somehow, in all the years he’d been gone, Principal Odell had maintained the precise same level of balding. A bright egg in the back and center, with a handful of wisps along the front and a fairly normal crown running along the sides.

“Hey there, teach.” Chase waved and stepped forward, allowing his famous face to be easily spotted.

“Goodness me, is that you, Chase? Come down here this instant, I wasn’t kidding about it not being safe up there.”

It was hard to say which was more heartening, the fact that Principal Odell used his name rather than calling him Apollo, or that he was concerned even though one of them was among the stronger known metahumans in the world. Though not quite as close to the summit as Chase had once believed.

Taking the advice, Chase headed back down the slope, arriving at the side of his onetime teacher-turned-principal. “What are you doing out here? Stringless said the whole town would be locking themselves up after what happened with bobcat.”

“Unfortunately, Stringless does not have the level of experience dealing with younger, more impulsive minds that I have acquired over my lengthy career. The only reason I’m so late is that before arriving I first stopped by the houses of several known troublemakers under the auspices of checking to see that everyone was healthy and handling today’s surprise well. Would it shock you to know no less than half of them were making plans to come scare themselves silly at this very quarry?”

Thinking back to his own days in high school… Chase had to admit that if anything, the number was a probably a bit low. Maybe kids were smarter these days.

It was funny to imagine Principal Odell charging up to a youthful version of himself. Although not hard to manage, the man really was remarkably well-aged, despite how the years were piling on. Chase’s eyes flicked to his hairline once again. He must have seen it over the years, but he’d always been so busy, so distracted by what seemed like more important issues, that the minor detail never fully registered.

With an unspoken curse, Chase realized where his intuition had been pointing him.

“Tell you what, my night is already a bust. How about you head home and I’ll hang around out here to make sure nobody comes sneaking in and exploring.”

20

One of the elements of working with metahumans newly adjusting to their powers was figuring out how those abilities functioned to begin with. While most metahumans had some inner sense of their capabilities, very few were given any manner of direct instruction on how any of it worked. To say nothing of what the powers actually were, how they interacted with the world, and other sorts of questions that took years to find answers for, if ever.

All of which led to a game Chase had found himself playing all-too-often back in his Apollo days: If this, then what? If a metahuman could fly, did that mean they could alter the gravity of others? Did it mean they could propel themselves through dense environments such as water? Did it signify an elemental control of wind, or air itself? The answer to most such questions would inevitably be “no,” but as one found the occasional success, a shape would begin to emerge of just what this particular power truly was.

A game his mind was once more dancing around with, putting the pieces together. The notion was… jarring to say the least, with potential to be downright terrifying. If he was right, with this hunch that had zero evidence offering proof. Honestly, the idea never would have occurred to him, if not for his final conversation as a prisoner.

Jogging along the side of the road, Chase allowed the moment to play through his mind once more.

From the breastpocket of his brown suit, the man produced one final paper, sliding it softly across the table. “There is also one additional catch, a matter we could use your input on. One where you are specifically qualified to offer perspective.”

With a weary sigh, Chase flipped over the paper, curious to see what final surprise the man had waited to spring. Although the picture wasn’t a great one, it wasn’t hard to make out a person wearing a costume.

“She’s operating under the name Stringless, a superhero working out of Derkenville. It’s most likely a minor matter, but someone noticed that several of the inmates she’s brought in are… oddly subdued. While they’re physically healthy and display no signs of severe trauma, each of them has a tendency to do and engage as little as possible, in contrast with their previous behaviors. The only link is that all of them were captured by Stringless, so we’d like to be certain she’s not utilizing an ability or tactic that leaves mental scarring.”

“And you think she’s going to just tell me all about how she’s beating these crooks half-comatose with a flash of my winning smile?” Chase grinned as if to prove the point, though his smile was quite radiant even with his disheveled appearance.

The slim man returned a much less charming grin of his own. “Of course not. You’ll find the approach a bit easier than you might be expecting, but regardless it shouldn’t be any issue. Stringless will believe she is the one keeping an eye on you.”

So many times, he’d wanted to call the whole thing in as some sort of algorithmic error. Marcey wasn’t using needless force, not since he’d been here, and if she was beating the hell out of the locals, they absolutely wouldn’t be protecting her… not with how little love there was for Stringless in Derkenville already. She was doing a job, and doing it better than anyone had a right to expect given the circumstances. The suspicions were obviously groundless.

What had stayed his hand was the visceral memory of watching a school collapse thanks to Balaam’s bombs. Chase… Apollo has been so sure he had the situation in hand. That he saw things from every angle. And he’d been incredibly, undeniably, fundamentally wrong.

So he’d kept checking, kept observing, rationalizing that if nothing else, he was gathering evidence to prove Marcey’s innocence. And that was what the vast majority of what he saw pointed toward.

Just… not everything.

All of that swirled around his brain as Chase ran softly through the night. Not toward his lodging, or the police station, or even a fast-food restaurant for a quick bite. His pace dropped to a mild jog as Chase arrived outside his actual destination. By now, it was deep into the dead of night, the sort of time when the only people awake were those with a reason for it. The hour when someone would be least expecting interruption, especially after the hectic night that had already passed.

He could still be wrong. The coincidences could be coincidences. The odd details might be pointing somewhere other than the conclusions he’d reached. But Chase had to know. Turning his back on trouble he’d rather not face just wasn’t in him.

Pushing against the old door, he felt a brief moment of resistance before his strength snapped the old latch. A split-second later, the doors halted again. Through the gap he’d opened, Chase could see the shiny chains glinting in the moonlight. Newer metal than this place had seen in years, coiled tightly around the doorway so it wouldn’t be visible from outside.

A sign that, unfortunately, Chase was onto something.

Rather than continue bothering with the door, he strolled over to a nearby window and simply punched it into fragments. Unlike a common crook, he didn’t have to worry about hurting his hand on the broken glass… though after a moment’s consideration, Chase realized how odd it was that the windows here were even still standing.

Derkenville wasn’t a kind place; there were no shortage of bored and angry people who’d love little more than to hurl a rock through a defenseless pane of glass. Boarding it over would have made more sense, but also turned the scene a bit too derelict. There was no point in speculating when he could just see for himself, though, so Chase pushed past the newly shattered shards of glass to step inside.

The old roller-skating rink was a blast from the past. Walking along the violently multicolored carpet, looking over the now-dated neon shapes along the wall, Chase even found himself staring at the rows of benches waiting for eager kids to fasten their rental skates and take a few wobbly first steps.

That’s what had bothered him when he first came here and peered through the windows. Why was all this stuff still here and whole if the rink was closed? It was just like the windows. Even if the important items had been stripped out, the rink itself would still hold an appeal. To those seeking shelter, youths making trouble, angry people just looking for items to break – all of which Derkenville had in ample supply. This place being untouched just made no sense.

Unless someone was protecting it.

Inside, Chase could catch even more details, like the lack of dust in a supposedly abandoned building, or the groans coming from overhead that sounded like more than any rogue wind or settling beam could muster.

When the clatter came from out on the rink floor, it was almost a relief. He wasn’t really sure how to move things forward as they stood, especially with the tattlers sitting heavy on his wrist.

Stepping out onto the large smooth circle, Chase looked toward the stage at the far end of the rink. When they were kids, there would be a DJ there, or occasionally a live band for special events and certain Saturday nights. Now, the curtain pulled back slowly to reveal exactly what Chase had feared would be waiting.

Puppets. More puppets than he’d seen assembled in a single place, with several being all-too-familiar. And standing amidst them was their overlord and queen.

Stringless, staring out at Chase with an expression that said she was just as uncertain about how to handle this as he was.

21

“Ireally wanted to be wrong.” Chase’s voice echoed over the acoustically reflective stone of the roller rink’s floor, sound bouncing as if he’d spoken it into a microphone.

“That makes two of us.” Without any verbal orders from Stringless, the puppets began to fan out from the stage, slowly making their way out into the roller rink floor. Most were the usual crew Chase had seen serving Stringless, but there were a few others peppered into the mix: Regular Dave, Rusty Clyde, and several other humanoid puppets he hadn’t gotten semi-whimsical names for just yet.

As for the cape herself, she took a few steps toward the edge of the stage, hands clenching and releasing as she continued to stare at Chase. “How much have you figured out?”

“Just the ‘how’ so far, and that’s still speculative,” Chase admitted. “I knew something might be going on when the guy springing me from jail mentioned you bringing in oddly lethargic prisoners. And for a while, I really thought it was just a coincidence. Except one of the skills you have to develop when teaching people new to their abilities is considering what unseen aspects a power might have, waiting to be discovered. Although it took a while, eventually I considered the possibility that you might be able to turn people into puppets. But it wasn’t until I inverted the question that everything fell into place.”

Around him, the puppets were fully fanned out, completely encircling the former superhero. A handful remained clustered directly in front, blocking him from charging at Stringless, but otherwise they’d spread themselves into a net. One that was slowly starting to tighten.

“What if you could do more than turn people into puppets? What if you could turn puppets into people? Suddenly, those sedate prisoners you keep bringing in make a lot more sense. You’re outright incredible, being able to control so many puppets at once, but it does take a toll. Easier to let them sit in their cells whenever possible.”

Chase’s eyes flitted over to Rusty Clyde. “I’m assuming this is the real Clyde, and the one serving ten years upstate is a puppet?”

“Fuck me. With those muscles and looks, I honestly forget you’re not a moron sometimes.” Stringless sighed and shook her head. “Well, you’re the more experienced one between us. What happens now?”

“Depends on the criminal in question. Given that you’re on a stage, I’d expect a monologue. They happen more than you’d think.”

“No… actually, I quite believe that many in my position would give in to the temptation of a tirade.” Shaking out her shoulders, Stringless suddenly seemed more relaxed than Chase had seen her throughout his entire time back home. “I’ve been at this for years, years of keeping everything a secret, and now that I can finally let the walls down, the story wants to come bursting out.”

With a very deliberate turn of his head, Chase glanced to the exit, which was currently blocked by six puppets, including a human one he’d yet to encounter. “I’m glad to listen. Not like I have anywhere to be.”

Walking to the true end of the roller rink stage, Stringless sat down, letting her legs dangle down over the edge. “I started out exactly like I told you. Got my powers, found some weird secondhand puppets, and began helping the town as Stringless. I was three years into the job when everything went to shit. In fact, let’s meet the lead actors in our little historical drama.”

From the dark curtain leading backstage, two figures emerged. One was the distinctively slim figure of Gavin Mosston, the man once called Moosetadon, and the other was Principal Odell, bald head gleaming under the stage’s harsh lights.

“Bunch of kids went fucking around in the quarry, as they do, only this group stumbled onto something unexpected. They found a weird gem buried at the end of a small tunnel. Odd shape and color, clearly meta in some nature, and can you believe what they did?”

Stringless paused for several seconds before slapping her knee as she answered. “They turned it in! Did the actual responsible thing, brought it to their principal while he was visiting with a local officer. But where the kids showed good judgment, the adults fell short.”

In perfectly synchronization, Principal Odell and Moosetadon both lifted their arms and shrugged, as if to say “Whoops” even as Stringless continued.

“I’ll spare you the entire tale: the gist is that these two opted to sell the gem rather than pass it along through proper channels. Decided this was their opportunity to get ahead, to stay above water while the town was sinking. By sheer chance, I ran into the kids and found out it existed, then overheard their scheme through one of my puppets. I should have busted them right there, but I was still new. So new, so green, so stupidly trusting. I told them both I was onto them and knew about the gem, giving them a chance to turn it in before they did something stupid.”

Again, her story paused. This time it was so Stringless could glare at each of the figures in turn. “I never really had a true secret identity. Can’t manage it easily in a town where you’ve lived all your life. But it wasn’t an issue. Not until these two showed up at my house. They came in the middle of the night, clad in black masks with tasers, zip ties, large plastic garbage bags, and camping hatchets. What do you suppose they had in mind, breaking into my house with that kind of gear?”

Much as Chase didn’t want to believe these two men he’d liked would take such a sudden turn, he unfortunately knew all too well how desperation could take hold of someone. With Derkenville in decline, each of them no doubt had ample problems money could have soothed. And stealing a gem almost no one even knew existed was virtually a victimless crime.

But once a cape found out about their scheme, suddenly the equation changed. Especially for a pair whose jobs were reliant on public trust; Stringless even knowing about the planned crime represented a continual risk. So long as she was alive to possibly spread the word, they would never be fully safe.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

Lifting her hand, a small bird puppet flew down from the ceiling and landed on Stringless’s outstretched finger. “Lucky for me, even back then I kept a watch posted. It was a tough fight, harder than it should have been because I was trying to hold back. But when they pinned me down, blades gleaming in the flickering lights of my shitty kitchen, I discovered a brand-new aspect to my abilities. From there it was mostly a matter of covering my tracks. I needed someone to take over their roles and sure as shit wasn’t going to try and turn them back. After that, I mostly kept handling things the same way I had been, except when someone made it clear they were set on being a danger to my town.”

“You change the real threats into puppets, then make puppet versions that can turn human and take their place in prison,” Chase surmised. “What about Margarite? I realized she’s one too, was she a person once?”

“Margarite is an original creation. I needed someone in the center of the action, and not a lot of people were fighting for the graveyard dispatch position. Having a law enforcement officer as my puppet source also helped allay any potential suspicion.” Stringless let the bird fly off from her hand and began to stand from her seat at the edge of the stage. “Honestly, I probably used her more like a self-insert into my own life than anything else. She got to be personable, fun, and well-liked. I was really hoping you would take the bait and ask her out.”

“I bet we would have had a great time.”

Chase quietly looked around once more, again noting that the circle of puppets had drawn ever-so-slightly closer. “My turn to ask you: what now? I didn’t break into your house with masks and knives. I didn’t commit a string of crimes around Derkenville. Right now, you’re sitting on the edge of a choice. Gavin and Principal Odell came after you to cover up their crimes. Are you going to make the same decision they did? Or are you going to choose to be better? To act like a superhero.”

Stringless’s face twisted into something between a gaze of confusion and a stare of pity. “You do realize how that sounds coming from you, of all people.”

“My hope is that you’ll listen because it’s coming from me. When my time came, I made the wrong choice. I made so many wrong choices. The only thing I did right, the only part of that entire debacle I can look back on without burning shame, was face the consequences willingly. I know – and hear me, Marcey, I know it feels like it’s too late. Like you’ve gone too far to turn around. But you haven’t. I swear to you; there’s still a way back. Please, Marcey, please… let me help you.”

As the echo of Chase’s words faded, silence hung heavily in its place. He and Stringless held each other’s eyes for what seemed an endless moment. Then, with a terrifying slowness, her lids closed.

“I’m sorry, Chase. Derkenville needs me.”

22

Sad as Chase was to hear those words, they didn’t take him by surprise.

Nor did the giant puppet fist swinging for his torso a split second later, arriving too late as he deftly dashed to the side. “Marcey! Don’t do this.”

“It’s already happening.” Stringless still had her eyes closed, her body angled away from the struggling former superhero. “Why did you have to come here? You were supposed to– ”

Her words were drowned out by the clatter of three puppets slamming together as they tried to rush Chase, only to find him slipping by once more. Despite the ruckus muffling Marcey, Chase already knew how that sentence was going to end.

“I was supposed to go to the quarry, right? Everything suspicious led back there, and any time I tried to get too close, something would happen to distract me. A sudden fight among locals, Principal Odell and his flashlight, not to mention the ooze outbreak drawing lots of attention. I’m sure if I checked it out, I’d have found a small hideout and some false lead to waste time chasing.”

It was a testament to Chase’s stamina that he could deliver such a clear reply while diving and ducking from the flurry of puppet limbs swinging for his center of mass. The tentacle-faced wolf lunged for his leg and Chase barely managed to yank it out of the way, yet his words never wavered. If there was any hope of reaching Marcey, he had to keep her engaged, force the conversation to continue.

Given that she was already attacking him, it would be easy to give the whole thing up for a lost cause. Turn his back and walk away like he’d left her behind the first time, along with Derkenville and just about everyone who’d been counting on him.

“How did you even know to come here?”

“Because you used the same trick, only with Moosetadon.” Chase leapt high into the air, narrowly avoiding a puppet made of arms with mouths in the palms as it groped for his feet. “Once I considered you might be replacing more than just criminals, he was a prime suspect. More mass takes more effort to control, right? That’s why he had his sudden weight loss.”

Rusty Clyde and another humanoid slammed into one another as Chase ducked between their legs, rolling back to his feet without slowing. For all her bluster, Stringless didn’t seem to be going for killing blows. If she’d aimed for his head, that might have been cause for concern, but so far the puppets weren’t attacking anything other than his torso and limbs. It gave him hope, misplaced or not, that Stringless might still be savable.

“What you’ve done is incredible, by the way. Controlling this many puppets alone would be amazing; the ability to turn them into flesh-and-blood people pushes you into a whole other league. No wonder you’ve been able to handle Derkenville on your own.”

“Stop, Chase. Just… stop.” Stringless had fully turned her back to him now, even if he knew she could still see him perfectly well through the puppets. “Don’t pretend this is anything more than me falling impossibly short. We both know this isn’t what superheroes are meant to be.”

“No, it isn’t.” Chase barely had time to agree before a massive wooden fist nearly clipped his sternum. “But superheroes also aren’t supposed to betray their own organization, cause the escape of several highly dangerous known meta-criminals, or have a hand in causing a giant meta-human brawl in the streets of his city. Superheroes are people, Stringless. And people fuck up. That doesn’t mean we can’t do better or make things right.”

In a sudden flurry, four of the puppets rushed Chase, forcing him to hurriedly scramble back as a badger puppet with a bear’s head mounted on its back tried to chomp through his calf. These things really were unsettling, the more Chase saw of them the truer that became.

“How? How do I possibly make this right? Do you know how many people I’ve had to… change over the years? Can you imagine how far this goes?”

“I don’t have the answers to any of those questions. But I’m willing to stick by your side until we’ve figured them out.” Chase hurled himself between a pair of wooden fists, taking a blow to his shoulder in the process. The added momentum sent him spinning, and he had to scramble back to his feet. In those few seconds, it felt like every puppet nearby got in at least one hit.

Were he a metahuman with a weaker body, that would already have been the end. As things stood, Chase was feeling sorer than he had since… well, since the “fight” with Fornax, though Chase didn’t consider getting his ass whipped around the city much of a bout. Except in that exchange, he’d been facing off at full power.

Staggering back, he noted the puppets weren’t missing a step. Even though this should be wearing Marcey down, her stamina was ridiculous. Then again, with how many puppets she’d been controlling simultaneously over the years, Stringless had probably trained her ability to a level few with her skillset could match. Natural talent and a relentless work ethic; Chase could have made her one hell of a cape, once upon a time.

“I’ll ask again, Marcey, what’s the plan? You aren’t going for killing blows, so I’m genuinely unsure what it is you’re hoping to manage. Will beating the crap out of me make things better? Because if it gets you to listen, I’m open to the idea.” It certainly couldn’t hurt any worse than Fornax’s attacks.

“Nothing that sadistic,” Stringless replied, her back still turned. “I’m just going to attack until you have to use your real power. Once those bracelets go off, I’ll claim you broke your parole by coming here for a fight, mad at me for not bowing to the great Apollo like the rest of the town. Underhanded, admittedly, but even you think you belong in jail. This is just setting things right.”

It was, sadly enough, a fairly plausible plan. Chase might be able to do no wrong in Derkenville, but whoever the AHC dispatched to come haul him in wasn’t likely to have the same forgiving disposition. Was it more probable they’d listen to an established superhero who could call forth testimony from local authorities, or a convicted criminal ranting about a conspiracy of secret puppets? Any reasonable person would see the obvious way those odds would break.

“It’s a solid idea. Maybe you wouldn’t get away entirely clean, but it would at least buy you enough time to potentially escape. There’s a fatal flaw, though.” Chase raised his arms, allowing the bracelets to be easily seen by every puppet around him, of which there were a worrying abundance.

“Even if my powers are locked down, I still have the experience and knowledge of a superhero with decades on the job. Which is how I know that at this time of night on a weekday, Lodestar is off-duty and Professor Quantum will be deep in an experiment, meaning there’s only one cape who can come in response to a threat of my level.”

With a blinding flash, Chase called forth his power, wrapping himself in a golden aura of energy. The puppets pounded against it, but their wooden fists were entirely useless. Chase felt the tattlers vibrating on his wrists, blinking and emitting a high-pitched tone. He stood like that for nearly ten seconds, watching the puppets grow ever more frantic, until a figure burst through the door so hard that the remaining glass shattered.

The puppets froze as the new arrival strode purposefully forward, stern eyes taking in the entire scene with a single sweep. His gait never wavered while he walked closer, glancing down at the flashing bracelets. When the superhero came to a halt, he was within arm’s reach of Chase, the surrounding puppets having moved quietly out of his path.

It was not the reunion with his mentor Chase had been hoping for, but he was glad to see the man nonetheless. “Hey Quorum. We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

23

Standing before the superhero who’d welcomed him into the Alliance of Heroic Champions, taught him the fundamentals of what it meant to be a cape, and ultimately been betrayed by Apollo, Chase couldn’t help feeling like little more than a fresh-faced rookie hot off the heels of halting his first caper.

Quorum glanced away, scoping out the scene in an instant like only he could, before returning his gaze. “So it seems. How about you give me your version, then I’ll listen to this capable cape on the stage. But first…” With a touch, he halted the alarms on the bracelets. “That was getting annoying.”

“Quorum, sir, it’s an honor, but I’d advise against giving him a chance to spin his lies.” Stringless was scrambling up from her seat on stage, visibly stunned by suddenly being in the presence of a living legend. “We all know how Apollo can– ”

“There is no need for concern, I assure you. I was able to see through Apollo’s attempts at deception without issue, I’ll have no trouble discerning the veracity of Chase’s words. Along with your own. It’s something of a talent of mine, one of many.” Quorum never turned away from Chase as he spoke, eyes always locked on his former protégé. “The truth of this matter will be reached.”

From his vantage point, Chase could see Marcey’s face as she struggled with the situation before her. The plan she’d hatched was still theoretically viable, but Marcey was smart enough to see that things weren’t nearly as well in hand as she’d hoped. If Quorum really could tell who was lying between them, her entire career was sunk, along with her freedom.

Unless Stringless took what she thought was an opening currently before her. Though it tore him up inside, Chase watched her make the wrong choice one last time.

The puppets surged toward them both. To her credit, Stringless at least aimed them at Chase and Quorum’s limbs, specifically their legs, as she sprinted for the exit. Given the sheer number of wooden bodies being hurled at her foes, thinking they might buy her enough time was a reasonable assumption. After all, Chase knowing the human-shaped ones might be actual people limited how much damage he’d let a superhero cause them. Like her plan to frame him, it was a reasonably considered one that fell apart for precisely the same reason.

Quorum’s presence changed everything.

Faster than a blink, Quorum was gone, and every non-human puppet exploded into splinters. It was easy to think of Quorum as the tagalong to the Champions’ Congress; between Professor Quantum’s pedigree and inventions, not to mention Lodestar’s entire existence, he had a tendency to fade into the background. But his shine was only dim in comparison to their blazes. Quorum held the third position on the Champions’ Congress for good reason.

Compacted within him was over a thousand people, and he possessed the entirety of their capabilities. He moved at their combined speed, hit with their combined strength, was toughened by their combined durability. Had every single person within Quorum been entirely human, he would still have been among the most powerful superheroes to exist. But there were metahumans in the mix as well.

The result of which was that Quorum raced through the room at speeds not even Apollo could have matched, smashing apart the monstrous puppets while leaving the human ones entirely unscathed. He came to a halt directly in front of Stringless, a gentle hand holding firm to her shoulder. At a glance, it seemed as though he was stopping her from running, but the truth became clear when one noticed the blood trickling from her nose and the limpness of her legs.

The mental feedback from losing so many puppets at once had knocked Marcey unconscious. There was a chance she might have more serious damage as well, though typically these injuries were temporary. On the upside, Marcey would get a proper medical evaluation as part of her AHC arrest procedure, so she should be alright regardless.

The downside, so far as Chase could see, was just about everything else.

Wooden clatters rose up as Marcey’s remaining puppets fell over, limp and lifeless. Surveying the scene, Chase realized it was no wonder Stringless was getting so little sleep. If her puppets couldn’t act while she was unconscious, that would make the time where she was asleep when her secret was at the highest risk. To have been managing all that, while also still holding down the superhero duties of an entire town… there was so much potential in her. If only someone had seen it in time. If only the town had given her an ounce of support.

If only her friend who might have been able to help had stuck around.

“How… how did you know to avoid the human ones?”

“You were looking at those puppets differently than the others, with elevated concern. Presumably there’s something important about them?”

Slowly, still coming to terms with everything himself, Chase nodded. “They’re all people. Or they used to be, at any rate. I’m not actually sure if Stringless can change them back.”

“Perhaps you should go ahead with that explanation of the problem,” Quorum suggested. He laid Stringless down on the stage like he was tucking in a newborn, taking incredible care that she wasn’t hurt.

Chase did just that, going through everything that had happened since his release to Quorum. It took some time, during which several police cars from Rayette arrived. Evidently no one was able to reach the police in Derkenville, which made sense when one considered their nighttime dispatcher was currently unconscious alongside Stringless.

None of the police attempted to approach after Quorum waved for them to stand down, allowing Chase to finish telling his tale. Once the story was finally finished, Quorum looked to the young woman who was finally starting to stir at his feet, then to his one-time protégé.

“Alright, Chase. How do you want to proceed?”

24

From the instant he walked into the interrogation room, Marcey hated the slim man in the brown suit. It wasn’t the triumphant sneer on his face or the uptight set of his shoulders that tipped her off they wouldn’t get along. No, what set her teeth on edge was the pomp with which he entered the room, like a king arriving at a court. This was someone who thought he ran the world, and in Marcey’s experience, people like that were better off turned into puppets.

“Marcey Baird, also known as Stringless. You’ve put together quite the criminal enterprise here. Kidnapping, holding humans hostage in alternate bodies, attacking a member of the Champions’ Congress… I’ve put criminals away for life with resumes that weren’t nearly so impressive.”

“Guess I shouldn’t be any trouble at all then.” Marcey smiled, pulling her hands gently and causing the cuffs around her wrists to rattle. Those cuffs were hooked to the table, which itself was bolted to the floor. Apparently no one wanted to take any chances about her making surprise lunges for her unfriendly guest.

“Certainly not,” the man agreed, making no effort to introduce himself. “However, it will be costly in terms of time and taxpayer money. These sorts of trials tend to be drawn-out affairs, collecting testimony from so many different sources. So you will find that I am here offering slightly improved terms to what you could expect upon conviction. You get a softened sentence that still fulfills your debt to society and everyone else is spared a painful trial dragging out your many crimes against Derkenville.”

Despite knowing she should be playing ball, Marcey bristled. “Crimes against Derkenville? Listen here, you smarmy shit, any crime I may or may not have committed was done with Derkenville in mind. Do you know how hard it is to hold together a town that seems determined to rip itself apart? To give everything you have only to be treated like a local joke? And after all of that, I was still– ”

The door banged open so forcefully that it caused both Marcey and the man in the brown suit to jump, with her effort rattling the chain linking her wrists. In stepped a… man… yes, Marcey was fairly certain he was a man, given the physique visible beneath the bespoke powder blue suit. It was just a bit confusing because his head was… well… a hawk.

Or some sort of bird of prey, anyway. Beak, feathers, and sharp eyes that seemed to bore right through her. When the beak opened and a smooth voice emanated from a collar directly below it, Marcey nearly keeled back in her chair.

“Not another word.” With a very birdlike jerk of his head, the new entrant was suddenly staring down the man in the brown suit. “I hope you don’t expect to use any testimony my client gave from your attempted interrogation without her lawyer present. What did the judge say last time? I think she called you a disgrace to the profession and threatened to recommend sanctions.”

“Mr. Vocifer, always a pleasure to see you here. I’m not sure what brings you– ”

“Oh yes, what could it possibly be? Maybe the dedicated superhero you’ve got clapped in irons based on the spurious testimony of a recently-released convict. One who, thanks to your interference, had a material interest in proving something was amiss with my client to secure his own freedom. That’s a conflict of interests if ever there was one, and it’s barely the beginning of my case. Now get the fuck out of here so I can confer with my client.”

Marcey watched in fascination as the man in the brown suit visibly bit back a surge of anger, turning to glare at her one last time before storming out into the hall. Mr. Vocifer shut the door firmly behind him and then took a seat in the cold metal chair across from Marcey.

“Good morning, Stringless. Pardon the rude introduction, but it’s best if you don’t speak until I’m done. I’ve been hired on your behalf, however that alone only gets me in the door. Procedures in these cases are important, doubly so where metahumans are involved. I need your actual consent to function as your lawyer, otherwise I’ll have to leave and let Radcliffe back in here. As for who I am, my name is Patrick Vocifer, the non-human head is due to a mix-up with a teleportation machine when I was younger, and I am among the best qualified professionals to handle your particular situation.”

Patrick leaned across the table, near enough that Marcey could have made a grab for him, were she so inclined.

“In my experience, those sitting where you are often find themselves believing the entire world to be against them, and given life’s treatment of you so far, I can’t say I don’t understand the sentiment. And so when I appear, offering a path to salvation, they reject it out of hand, assuming it to be another trick or chance for fate to turn the knife. So hear me very well when I say this: if you want not just freedom, but exoneration, there are perhaps three practicing lawyers better qualified for the job. One works solely out of Indroga, another is under contract to a multi-billion-dollar corporation, and the third has… eccentricities. More importantly, none of them are here and working off a sizable retainer.”

“Why not just tell me you were the best?”

“Because molding the truth is for everyone outside this room. As my client, you get direct honesty.”

Although Marcey was indeed finding herself suspicious of the sudden turn in her luck, the bird-headed man had two major factors weighting things in his favor. The first was his directness, which she appreciated greatly after so many years having to dance around her own truth, and the second was that he’d told Radcliffe in the brown suit to fuck off. That alone won him some points.

There was one matter to settle first, though.

“This retainer you’re working off of. If I were to attempt a guess at who paid it, how many do you think I’d need?”

“Given your aptitude? I can’t imagine more than a single guess would be needed.”

It should have bothered her. He’d shown up in town, torn apart everything she’d worked for, and now was trying to play at who-knew-what with this gesture. But Marcey could still see the pain in his eyes as he’d pleaded with her. To the very end, Chase hadn’t given up on her. And it seemed even now, that was still holding true.

Looking Mr. Vocifer directly in his incredibly intense eyes, Marcey made her choice. “You’re hired.”

25

“You turncoat son of a b– ” Radcliffe’s sentence died on his tongue as the man he’d been speaking to blurred from his seat in the cushioned folding chair and appeared with his chest less than an inch away from Radcliffe’s nose.

“Were I in your shoes, I’d choose my next words very carefully.”

Realizing he was about to speak ill of the dead to someone who could flatten a semitruck with one hand, Radcliffe hurriedly abandoned that verbal path. Stepping back, he smoothed the dark tie clashing with the brown of his slim suit. “How, exactly, did Patrick Vocifer find out about Ms. Baird’s case, pray tell? To say nothing of how someone with her meager resources was able to afford such a capable attorney.”

“He is that,” Chase agreed. Slowly, he stepped back from Radcliffe, retaking his seat in the cushioned folding chair. They were in a small room at Derkenville City Hall, which was a very fancy name for what was effectively five modest offices and a few conference rooms under one roof. Outside, Quorum was making an official statement on behalf of the AHC, with Chase’s role coming soon. The space was supposed to be private, but apparently Radcliffe had enough clout to scare the local security into letting him past.

“I used to curse out loud every time I learned Patrick had been hired by someone I brought in. Funny how life can turn things on its head. When I realized Marcey needed a capable defender, he was the first name I thought of. And luckily, the guy was willing to take my calls.”

“So you admit it was you who interfered, jeopardizing our chance at justice for some misbegotten sense of what? Pity? Duty? Guilt?”

“How about pettiness?” Chase offered. “Maybe I just didn’t want some pencil-pushing prick to think he could get away with using me to go after my friend. This is a lesson the Alliance of Heroic Champions doles out for free, but looks like you needed to learn the hard way. When you try to manipulate people as tools, sometimes they take that shit personally.”

Radcliffe’s mouth was left ajar for several seconds before he mustered forth a reply. “I helped you bring a criminal to justice.”

“You tricked me into fucking over a friend. Someone who needed help.”

Their conversation fell silent long enough for a knock to echo forth from the door. A short man with long hair turned the knob and poked his head through. “Sir, they’re just about ready for you.”

“Thanks, I’m on my way. And please have security swing by, we’ve got an intruder here, and I don’t like the look of him. Seems shifty.” Chase once more stood from his chair, though this time there was no super-speed involved. Radcliffe’s gaze was locked on his wrists, which were conspicuously nude, lacking any decoration, mandatory or otherwise.

Chase noticed the gaze and smiled. “Yeah, I had a chat with Quorum and Patrick about those. Looks like you were using me as a test for a pilot program covertly, but now the secret is out. And wow, are there a lot of people who have thoughts about you adding extrajudicial conditions to a prisoner’s parole without going through the proper channels. Not your first time pulling that kind of stunt either, apparently. I heard there was some business with you overstepping the bounds of a warrant last year; can’t wait to see what your judge friend has to say about this one. Feel free to plan your revenge or whatever angry scheme you settle on, just know you’ll be a very busy man in the coming months.”

Stepping past the shocked government official, Chase made his way into the hall, muttering one last phrase as he left the man behind.

“Guess that’ll make two of us.”

Striding through Derkenville City Hall was oddly nostalgic. When he’d first debuted his powers so many years ago, when Apollo had first been concocted by a teenage boy with more guts than sense, he’d taken the same walk not long after. Stepping out to greet Derkenville, the world, and any evildoers who might be watching. Chase had imagined himself as the dawn of a new generation of superheroes.

Looking back, it was all but impossible not to cringe.

But in a way, Chase took comfort from that feeling. If he looked back at his teen self and didn’t find something deeply embarrassing, it would only mean he hadn’t matured from that point. He might have dwelled on the experience more, however the small city hall translated into a brief walk.

All too soon, Chase was stepping through the front doors into the morning light, where the crowd of reporters and citizens were all gathered down by the steps. Quorum was finishing up giving his statement, one that would be perfectly factual and dry as burned toast. The press and people alike lit up at the sight of Chase – no surprise, given what he was wearing.

Joining Quorum, Chase took a moment to shake his mentor’s hand, listening to the snap of shutters hurriedly capturing what they likely expected would be a historic moment. Even though it was largely pageantry for the cameras, Chase still found himself comforted by the simple gesture. He hadn’t even realized his stomach was rolling with nerves; how long had it been since a press conference gave him butterflies?

Then again, when was the last time he had this kind of announcement planned?

“Thank you, Quorum.” Chase turned to address the watching crowd, uncomfortably aware of the hungry stares on his outfit. “As my esteemed one-time colleague has explained, with the arrest of the superhero Stringless, Derkenville is currently in need of a superhero. Given my history here, and my record of service, Quorum graciously offered to allow me the post, adjusting my parole conditions so I might better repay my debt to society.”

Chase looked out at the crowd, spotting so many familiar faces it was harder to find a stranger. They looked rapturous, joyful on the verge of bursting. Here it was at last – they were finally going to have Apollo not just as their claim to fame, but actually hanging around town. He could already feel minds churning as they pondered how to make the most of a new tourist attraction.

“I turned him down flat.”

The shock took a few moments to get its claws in. Most of the onlookers still held their smiles plastered in place, waiting for the next line that would betray the first as a mere joke. That was not what Chase had prepared, however.

“In my time back, I’ve seen how Derkenville treats its hometown heroes. Stringless might have become a criminal, but she was tireless in working to protect this city. Everything she had, everything she was, she poured into Derkenville, trying so hard to make it better. And in return for all she did, you treated her like a joke. A nuisance. A pretend cape. All while glorifying a superhero who flew away and only came back for occasional public appearances.”

Chase felt his voice starting to rise and quickly reeled in his emotions. This wasn’t meant to be some angry rant they could easily dismiss. Marcey had attempted supporting Derkenville for years and gotten basically nowhere, so now it was time for tough love.

“I’m honestly tempted to leave Derkenville on its own, let you see what every other town who doesn’t have a superhero constantly on call gets to live through. But that would be a poor way to honor my friend’s decades of effort. Because she loved this town, loves it still. No matter how you all scorned her, she never stopped trying to keep you safe. Her methods unquestionably went astray, but it is all too easy to lose our way, even with the wisdom of others as guidance.”

Chase’s eyes flickered to Quorum for a split second before turning back to the crowd. “Stringless faced everything alone. The town’s challenges, her own failings, every slight and wound, she carried them all by herself. I honestly don’t think I could manage that sort of feat, but I damned sure respect it. So in honor of who Stringless was at her best, I will carry on protecting Derkenville.”

Slowly, the worried faces started to calm. He’d given them a scare, but if Apollo would still be in Derkenville, the words were ultimately just that: words.

“As of today, I am a working superhero once more, albeit in a very limited region. I will only be protecting two places unless called upon for emergency circumstances: Derkenville… and Rayette, the official home city of Apollo.”

If Chase had reached over and beheaded Quorum, he couldn’t have stunned the people of Derkenville more. While the reporters were taking in the information calmly, the civilians around were turning red in the face, many of them visibly shaking already.

“There was a bit of a mix-up back when I debuted, but since I got my powers and first used them in Rayette, that is where Apollo was truly born and where I intend to make my home for the foreseeable future. So I will of course be protecting my beloved home, along with our neighbor: the unremarkable Derkenville.”

Just as the screams and angry yells began to rise, Chase leapt from the ground, flying up to the sky in a golden blur. What he’d done was petty and short-sighted, neither of which were becoming aspects for a superhero to display. The old Apollo would have lectured Chase for days on end over pulling such a stunt. He’d alienated just about the only fan base who still liked him for little more than spite.

But it was more than that. For the first time in longer than he could remember, well before he’d actually been in prison, Chase felt sincerely free. The last of Apollo’s reputation was now truly in tatters. There were no expectations for him to fulfill, no ambitions to nurture, no great future to work toward.

Just a new day, and the chance to do some good.

Aiming toward Rayette, Chase flew onward to his new home. It was time for Apollo to get back to work.

End of Hometown Hero

The Priestess and The Peril: Part 2

1

The familiar feeling of sweat soaking her through robes greeted Perle as she swung her uncle’s sword yet again. Perhaps one day, with enough effort and skill, the weapon would feel like her own. After four weeks of training, she was at least growing competent in holding the blade up long enough for Elya to smack it away.

Clad from head to toe in her dark armor, the knight they’d met along their travels never seemed to tire during their sessions; not that Perle imagined she was putting up enough of a fight to demand serious effort. Elya had yet to remove her helm, or any part of her armor, even to eat. She claimed it was unnecessary, though sometimes when Ivan’s latest catch was roasting over the fire, Perle could swear she caught Elya’s helm-shielded gaze lingering on the dripping meat.

Whatever her diet was, it worked well, as Elya easily disarmed Perle yet again, the blade clattering down into the grass.

“If her grip is failing, that’s my cue.” From a nearby tree, Auro dropped down, still human-shaped even if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, suppress his serpentine habits. “Ready to move on to magic?”

Even knowing that soon her brain would feel as battered as her body, Perle was still gripped by a powerful temptation to accept. For the first few minutes, it would be a blessed break from withstanding Elya’s strikes. Inviting as it sounded, Perle nevertheless shook her head, scooping up the fallen sword and wiping it on her hopelessly stained robes.

“My hands aren’t fully failing yet.”

Despite the rejection, Auro grinned at the response, leaving Perle feeling like she’d just played along with whatever scheme he was hatching. Elya, however, took it as a cue to attack, lunging in with her own battered blade. For handful of seconds, Perle danced backward, fending off the assault. Fleetingly, she could feel something, almost a rhythm to the chaos of combat, but it was merely a flicker of insight, lost the moment she tried to focus.

Then it was over, her sword knocked away again. This time when Perle retrieved the weapon, she put it away, the tremors in her arms too violent to ignore. Next would come magic, then Ivan’s odd idea of training, and finally they’d rest for the night, only to rise in the morning, travel, and start the cycle over again.

Such had been their process since leaving Ravidon. Upon their exit, Perle had felt fired up and ready to see what came next. As it turned out, though, what came next was approximately a six-week trek to Omotane, the nearest major city, a place where they might have a hope of acquiring resources and aid. Or at the very least, faster means of traversal.

The ample travel time had been put swiftly to use, as Perle was tasked with investigating the effects of the magic she’d absorbed. No one could be sure how the power would manifest, which was ostensibly why she was being educated in multiple disciplines at once. Perle’s pet theory, one she nursed only during the most grueling sessions, was that everyone enjoyed knocking her around and nobody wanted to miss a turn.

Maybe she’d feel differently if there was any sense of progress, but after weeks of effort, she could barely hold off Elya for a few heartbeats, her control over magic was still laughable measured against Auro’s, and Ivan… the less focus put toward that pointless endeavor, the better. It wasn’t as if she expected to explode with potential, but some sense of forward momentum might have been appreciated.

Auro sat on the cool grass, motioning for Perle to do the same. His hands rested just above his knees, and her fingers settled gently onto his palm. It was the same position they’d been assuming since the first session. Sometimes Auro would pull her magic into his hand, twisting it into various patterns, then waiting until she replicated each one. On other occasions, he would push his own magic up through her fingers until she forced it back, a task comparable with trying to shovel water.

All too soon, her head ached like it had been bludgeoned by a hefty rock. Perle had once thought herself talented at the mystical arts. Among the other acolytes, she was considered gifted, albeit nowhere near a prodigy. Experiencing the way Auro could manipulate magic put into perspective how lacking her skill had truly been. If this was the skill of a giant serpent who’d been driven mad for countless years, what were true masters of magic capable of?

Eventually, this practice too came to an end, though not until Auro had Perle replicate an especially precise pattern. While he could form them in seconds, she often took tens of minutes for each effort, many of which ended in failure. Yet onward she persisted, never forgetting the sense of helplessness that had plagued her for so long.

The training would bear fruit someday. No matter how pointless it felt, she had to be getting at least a little stronger. Bit by bit, she’d build herself up, until Perle no longer needed to lean on others to save her world.

Others like the man strolling under the trees’ shadows, every step pressing deep into the soft ground. Ivan, her summoned champion from another world, and a seemingly unstoppable monster who was happy to rip apart anyone or anything that stood in his way. He looked so unassuming in his simple, dark clothes. They’d picked up a fresh tunic and trousers for him in Ravidon, as his original traveling clothes were thoroughly coated in gore. Without the strangeness of his garb, Ivan could have been a farmer or smith in any town along the kingdom’s roads.

That was, until he moved. There was something in his motion that whispered the truth: a man in perfect control, walking with absolute confidence. Like there wasn’t a single threat in the world that worried him. And from what Perle had seen so far, that might very well be the case.

“Finished with the magic?”

Perle didn’t bother answering, instead using the time to take deep breaths and rub the sides of her head. Burning through most of one’s magic was never pleasant, but Auro somehow managed to create a whole new degree of torment. The way he taught left Perle feeling more strained and drained than any of her prior magical efforts.

She dearly hoped that was a good sign.

“Our student has completed her curriculum for the night,” Auro reported, cheerily hopping up to his feet. Just like with Elya, the session that left Perle entirely spent didn’t even seem to wind her teacher momentarily. It was part of what made them qualified to instruct in the first place, and not at all a reason to silently loathe each one while her own body was laden with pain. That was what Perle kept telling herself, anyway.

Muscles already burning, Perle forced herself to rise, ready to face Ivan’s curriculum. It was a distinct contrast to Elya’s sparring, or the constant match of wits and might against ever-shifting challenges of Auro. She and Ivan didn’t fight at all, in fact.

Instead, they exercised using Ivan as the resistance force against Perle’s efforts. Holding out her arms, he carefully pressed his own palms against Perle’s, forcing them down. She fought against him as hard as she could, the parts of the arm he kept referring to as biceps straining futilely as they were forced into defeat.

Then she had to push them back up, with Ivan offering so much resistance that any progress demanded Perle’s absolute effort. Anything less, and her hands would go down once more. Once the apex was finally reached, Ivan increased the pressure slightly, breaking the equilibrium and forcing her arms down again.

On they would go, until her arms could take no more, failing entirely, at which point Ivan would switch their position to target a new muscle group. How he always knew exactly what her limit was and drove her to it was a mystery. Sadly, like the other exercises, it didn’t really appear to matter.

Perle couldn’t tell any improvement in her efforts against Ivan. Even their sessions seemed to last exactly the same length, meaning her ability to resist had yet to increase in any meaningful way. Sure, she couldn’t stand against the real strength Ivan displayed, but if that’s what he was using, her arms would have been torn off.

This evening was no different, and by the time Ivan was satisfied, Perle could scarcely move. All that allowed her to stay upright was the heavenly scent of Auro’s stew. Whatever beasts Ivan hunted down, their resident serpent was able to cobble into delicious dishes, using magic to supplement the lack of tools and spices.

He’d told Perle there were some herbs and minor spells to aid in her recovery, and each morning she did feel refreshed, so there was no reason to doubt Auro’s claim. Also, after being soundly beaten and exhausted multiple times over, she might not have cared if the stew was poisonous.

Not when it smelled that good.

Perle was halfway through her second bowl before she’d recovered enough to lift her head and pay attention to the conversation. Usually, the nightly chat centered around scouting reports, history and geography, or what monsters in the area to keep watch for.

Tonight, another subject had taken their fancy, however, and it took Perle a tad too long to realize just what, or rather who, they were discussing.

“It is genuinely remarkable,” Elya said, tone sounding like she was voicing agreement to some missed prior statement. “We’ve trained with her for, what, four weeks?”

“Still two weeks to Omotane, so four should be right,” Auro confirmed.

Elya shook her helmet, eliciting a series of rusty groans from the dark armor. “That level of improvement in four weeks. Remarkable isn’t even the word.”

“I get it. I’ve had you all for four weeks and haven’t improved a bit.” Perle tried to cast the rest of her stew away, feeling her appetite should be ruined; however, it seemed her stomach’s commands were superseding her brain’s, as she instead slurped down another spoonful.

Since Elya wore a helm covering her face and Ivan was incredibly stoic by nature, only Auro showed any visible surprise to her statement, though he packed in enough for all three. Tilting back, he feigned fainting off the log entirely, left hand pressed to his forehead.

“Dear me, now that is a situational misreading. Had you not been lost in your own mental fog during our discussion, you might have noticed we were discussing the incredible speed of your improvement. Which is, make no mistake, prodigious.”

They were having a lark at her expense, surely. Except while Auro might do such a thing, it was harder to imagine their stalwart knight joining in on the fun, and Elya was nodding along.

“But I haven’t improved at all. I’m no closer to hitting Elya, outcasting Auro, or overpowering Ivan.”

“Well, of course not.” Elya reached over, gently laying a cold, gauntlet-covered hand on Perle’s arm. “Perle, not only are we all well-trained in our fields, with ample real-world experience, we also each have unique advantages that increase our power further. The idea of you training anywhere near our capabilities in the span of weeks is like asking you to lift a mountain in the same amount of time.”

That… actually did make some sense, upon reflection. Auro was a giant spell-casting serpent who claimed to be hundreds of years old, Elya had not only a knight’s training but was bolstered by her unnatural condition, and Ivan… perhaps the gods knew where his power came from, but Perle had no idea.

“So I am improving?”

“Ridiculously so,” Ivan informed her. “When we met you could barely hold that sword, now it moves like a part of your arm. Your muscles were too weak to slice Dezzolorth’s skin, yet today you could easily sunder bark from that tree with an offhand blow.”

That was a fresh insight to Perle. “I could?”

“Elya seems to think so.”

The knight nodded, banging her chestplate. “I’ve taken more than enough attacks to rate their strength, and Perle’s hitting far heavier than a priestess should be able to.”

“Your magical aptitude and reserves are also progressing well past the expected curve,” Auro added. “I’ve had many an apprentice, and none could compare with your rate of growth. Seems we know at last what happened to that remnant of the summoning spell you absorbed.”

Rapid, exponential growth. When Perle reflected back on the tales she knew of summoned champions, it lined up perfectly. They were always most vulnerable upon first arrival, able to be slain by mere bandits with blades, yet by the end of the legends they were among the strongest powers in any realm. How would one improve at such an unfathomable rate? And more than once, at that? If the very magic that had summoned them accelerated that growth, though, the explanation was right there.

Any champion could grow to meet any threat, if they had time to train and used it well.

It was a system designed upon the idea of adaptability: new bodies built up to fulfill specializations. Binding their tenure in the realm to the life of their summoners also ensured the champions could be easily removed, should they grow too strong to control.

For the first time, Perle found herself pondering the summoning ritual’s origins. Just who was it that had designed not only magic to transport people from other realms, but also shackles to bind them upon arrival?

“I’m getting stronger, and yet it will be a long while before I can catch up to any of you. I’m not likely to be fighting any of you, however. What matters is: where do I sit in comparison to demons?”

The three exchanged glances, or at least Elya turned her helm in the other two’s direction. It was Auro who spoke, to no one’s surprise. “Demons are just like humans and monsters – there’s not one set rating for the whole populace. You could probably stand up to their lesser troops, maybe handle one of the big boys that we saw in Ravidon. Commanders like Dezzolorth are still beyond you, for now.”

In four weeks, she’d gone from zero combat abilities to fighting on the same level of some demons. That alone should have sent Perle’s heart soaring, except she knew it would barely be enough for the fodder in their path. The enemies would get stronger as the demons grew more aware of their threat; that was when they’d started hunting Perle’s party in earnest.

She needed to be ready for that day. Because if she wasn’t, then Perle’s only recourse was to depend on Ivan. And she understood the death toll that would follow such a choice.

“Now that we’re drawing near to Omotane, perhaps the time is right to discuss what we will do upon our arrival,” Elya suggested. “Is there anything worth stopping for, or are we simply gathering information and provisions?”

All eyes turned to Perle, since Auro knew little of the modern world outside his swamp, and Ivan hailed from another realm entirely. “Omotane is a much larger city than Ravidon, with an actual royal presence. The market is likely to have much more useful supplies, possibly even enchanted items. Beyond that, it’s home to one of the seven sages, Balipher the Subtle. His tower there draws in all manner of casters, and there’s an academy that trains the best of those that arrive.”

Auro released a soft, somehow cheerful, hiss. “So if we want to upgrade our tools or gather minions, Omotane would be an ideal spot.”

While Perle might have called them “reinforcements” rather than minions, that had been an idea she’d considered. Surely a group this small couldn’t continue to stand against the forces of the demons. They had entire armies on their side; the numbers would drown anything four lone individuals could manage, no matter how spectacular they were.

Yet at the same time, Perle couldn’t picture any future where those who followed them weren’t quickly carved away. Elya and Auro were able to protect themselves; Ivan kept her safe because Perle’s death would mean the end of his time on their world.

Anyone else would be on their own.

Still, there was more in Omotane than disposable bodies. If she could somehow gain an audience with the sage, Balipher would surely know the best way to deploy Ivan’s strength. Perle’s champion represented an incredible, nigh-unstoppable weapon for humanity. Whether it was enough to win the war or not would likely hinge on the way it was wielded.

And Perle the priestess knew approximately nothing about war, other than the fact that it resulted in corpses.

“We’ll at least want to stop by the Omotane market. Without knowing where we’ll head next, it might be our last chance to purchase supplies, especially enchanted ones.” Perle watched for a reaction, however none of her compatriots did more than stare back. She took that as agreement and continued.

“Nearly as important is information. Dezzolorth capturing Ravidon effectively choked out communications from the rest of the kingdom; this will be our first chance to hear how the war efforts are going elsewhere. If there’s a pressing need to head onward, then that’s what we’ll do. Otherwise, assuming time permits, I’d like to inquire about Balipher, and whether there’s any chance of gaining an audience. The wisdom of a sage would no doubt be a great boon to our efforts.”

Raising a hand, Auro started to lift his fingers one by one. “That’s supplies, information, access to an important figure, and naturally we’ll need lodging and meals while pursuing all these goals. With that in mind, Perle, what do you think our actual first priority has to be?”

Although she squirmed a bit while doing so, Perle offered the correct answer. “Gold.” It was a concept she’d dealt with fleetingly during her years in the church’s service, but Perle had lived enough beforehand to understand the essentials of economics. Gold bought things, and the more of it one had, the greater the grandeur of things they could buy.

“As I said, learning and growing constantly.” Auro beamed. “How do people make their money these days? If monster parts are still highly valued, I’m due for a skin-shedding soon. That would surely be worth a fair few coins.”

He glanced at Perle who quickly lifted her shoulders, as she hadn’t the faintest idea what giant snakeskin would be valued at. Meanwhile, Elya lifted her helm a bit higher, spine straightened. “If what we need is money, then the best pay will usually come from removing a problem. A city as big as Omotane is going to have a few monsters prowling around, and one of them will have upset somebody who solves their troubles with gold. For us, it should be an easy way to earn funds.”

“Not us.” Ivan’s voice cut through the night, eyes locked on the priestess. “Perle.”

“We don’t even know what sort of monster there might be,” Elya protested.

“All the more reason to prepare her well.” Ivan stood, evidently considering the matter settled. “You have two weeks to train, at which point we will hunt a monster for you to fight. I won’t help, nor will I let Auro or Elya.”

Panic was already grasping at Perle’s heart as she searched Ivan’s face, desperate to see some sign that this was his first ever joke. Only deadly severity stared back. “Why?”

“Stronger pressure leads to greater growth. You have a long way to go, and my patience has limits. This should help you pick up the pace.”

2

They spotted Omotane a full two days before arriving at its gates. That was in part due to its geography, located high atop a cliffside, looking out onto expansive eastern lands below. Even approaching from the west, as Perle’s group found themselves, the incline was constant and steady, ensuring Omotane loomed high in their vision.

Of course, the city’s architecture also played a role in its visual prominence.

The city was like a constructed cascade, working down the western slope while the buildings along the cliffside were massive towers piercing high above the other structures. And most prominent of all: The Sage’s Tower where Balipher dwelled. The golden exterior gleamed in the daylight as they marched upward, and even reflected the softer glow of moonlight after dusk.

As they drew closer to the city, Perle picked up on signs of civilization once more. Small farms staffed by wary but not terrified families, regular patrols of kingdom soldiers along the roads, even a handful of roadside inns, a treat Perle hadn’t indulged in since…

Actually, the memory of her last stop at an inn with Ivan and Auro washed away any interest in returning to one, no matter how badly her body ached for a proper bath. Auro’s washing spells at least kept them all from stinking to the high heavens, however it lacked the catharsis of a genuine soak.

Luckily, no one suggested they stop so close to their goal, even if Auro’s stomach did rumble when a particularly unaware group of travelers wandered past them on the road.

That, too, was a difference Perle was working on handling. For so long, any other person they saw on their journey was assumed to be an enemy, either a demon or someone working for them. Now that they were past the controlled lands around Ravidon, other travelers were no longer an inherent threat.

Granted, that didn’t mean they were all trustworthy either, though the few who began to sidle close to Perle’s group always seemed to think better of it. Whether it was Elya’s cacophony of clanking, Auro’s hungry smile, or Ivan’s utter apathy for anything other than the next step ahead of them, some factor kept scaring off the scavengers.

By the time they reached Omotane’s gates, Perle could no longer see most of the city. Now her view was blocked by the enormous barricades, stone walls reinforced with metal and etched with runes. These were no mere obstacles meant to buy time; this was a defense worthy of a siege. With the cliffside to their east, Omotane was already naturally defended on one front, and they’d taken visible measures to shore up the other areas.

All of which culminated in a massive line of people waiting to enter the city. Perle hadn’t gotten a chance to appreciate it when they approached Ravidon, but the one upside to a demon-overrun town was that there weren’t sizable crowds trying to get in at the same time.

Perle kept checking on her companions, unable to hide her nerves as she waited for one of them to start throwing people out of the way. Or eating them outright, if Auro thought everyone was distracted. Yet to her surprise, all three stood patiently in line. Auro was rocking on his heels and looking over the crowd, however that was hardly suspicious.

Elya even started to hum, a lovely tune marred by the echo of her ever-present helm. The longer they traveled together, the more Perle wondered about the face that hid beneath that metal guard. But the lengths Elya took to hide her visage only spoke to how badly she’d been treated because of it. As for Ivan, her greatest point of concern, he stood silently until the line advanced, at which point he would step forward, and the process continued.

As they drew closer to the gate itself, worry gnawed at Perle’s stomach. She felt certain there would be some hiccup or challenge in their path. Likely one that ended in bloodshed. Yet no sooner had they reached the front of the line than Elya strode forward, producing a small metal emblem from a pouch tied to her waist around the dark armor lining her form.

Upon sight, both guards immediately saluted, bringing their hands to their hearts and spreading the fingers wide. The older of the pair, a woman with short-cut hair and sharp eyes, piped up. “Omotane gladly welcomes a knight of the Shatterfly. Are these your retinue?”

“Indeed,” Elya confirmed, not bothering to glance back at the others for any manner of confirmation. “A priestess, a mage, and a brawler, each offering their services in my tasks.”

“Then you too are greeted with gratitude and welcome arms.” She turned to the rest of them, fingers over her heart closing then opening once more, thus renewing the salute. “The Order of the Shatterfly once saved Omotane in its darkest hour, and we have been proud to host their knights for rest and respite ever since.”

“Not to mention, we of the Shatterfly are known to be free with our coin.” Elya’s tone was jovial; she even shrugged her shoulders in a loud clatter. “Can’t take it with you, after all.”

Sadness touched the guard’s eyes, even as she waved them ahead. “Welcome to Omotane. If you need any aid, merely call for the guard.”

Despite the invitation to advance, Elya hung back. “If you could point us to the local Butcher’s Board, that would be a great help.”

“Of course.” The guard began running through a list of turns and directions that left Perle entirely befuddled, however Elya’s helm steadily nodded along, indicating she understood. That, or she was equally lost and putting on a better front.

As the guard explained where to go, Ivan sidled up to Perle, his voice not quite a whisper, but tempered down from its usual volume. “What is a Butcher’s Board?”

“It’s what most folks call their communal monster-hunting notice area. The place where you see what sorts of creatures have been spotted prowling around, along with what particular pieces are currently in high demand. Either way, the tasks posted there all come back to hunting down and killing monsters, then harvesting their parts.”

“A Butcher’s Board indeed.” If Perle wasn’t imagining things, she thought she spotted the barest hint of a grin at Ivan’s lips. “It’s a refreshingly straightforward arrangement, to be sure.”

Elya finished receiving the directions and waved for the others to follow. Treading along behind her, they strode past the massive walls and connected gate into Omotane’s true entrance. Huge white stone buildings dotted the land before them. Canvas-covered stalls lined the edges of the streets continuously, only breaking when an intersection appeared, and even then begrudgingly.

Perle did spy a few empty spots, but those were being forcibly maintained by burly people in matching uniforms. These spots were also where the white stone buildings had their own entrances, leading Perle to assume the space-enforcers were privately employed. Especially since each group had their own distinct outfits.

Occasionally, her eyes would fall upon people wearing golden tabards with intricate needlework depicting the sigil of the sage: an eye shaped like the sun, with rays of light shining forth, meant to represent the dawning of wisdom upon humanity. Where those with the sigil walked, others shrank back, even the burliest of street-goers ensuring each of them was afforded proper space.

Clearly these people worked for Balipher in some capacity, yet Perle didn’t dare approach any to inquire about the sage himself. There was a chance they’d be accommodating – a slim one, but it surely existed. However, the danger of whoever she spoke to being rude and brushing her aside was quite real, and then she had to worry about how the others would react.

Perle was leading three avatars of bloodshed through the streets; she couldn’t risk even one taking offense on her behalf.

Onward they trekked, the crowds and stalls thinning out as they reached the city proper. It was still a good deal farther on before they finally reached the Butcher’s Boards, though Perle at first didn’t recognize them as such. In Ravidon, the Butcher’s Boards had been a few sections of wood nailed together and mounted at eye-level.

Omotane clearly had more going on, as their board was more akin to a wall. Formed of a blue-gray stone, parchment notices were stuck all along its surface, with an apparent rough system of grouping at play, even if Perle didn’t understand it quite yet.

“Excellent, they follow standard board placement procedure.” Elya pointed to the far end of the Butcher’s Boards, where the largest number of people were gathered. “Ingredient requests will be at the furthest left. Those are items that can be acquired through trade and sourcing, rather than direct hunting. Plenty of people act as middlemen to those requests, earning a living without ever entering battle themselves.”

The dark metal gauntlet of Elya’s hand traced to the right, where the crowds began to thin. “As you move on, the requests will turn more combat-oriented. At first it’s still ingredient requests, but ones that have to be fresh, or only exist in limited windows of opportunity. Still theoretically possible for a merchant to source, but the costs of doing so heavily burn into one’s profits. Eventually, the requests turn into purely hunting tasks, ridding specific dangers someone is concerned about. The further right you go, the greater the predicted danger. Of course, nothing is ever certain.”

Unsurprisingly, Ivan made a direct line for the furthest right section of the wall, where almost no one else even dared to glance, as if the requests themselves were as dangerous as the monster they described. After looking at the array of parchments for several moments, Ivan waved to them. “Auro, I require some perspective.”

The buoyant man-shaped monster in blue happily sauntered over to Ivan’s side. “How may I be of assistance?”

“The names of these monsters mean nothing to me. We need to find a good match for Perle.”

Elya stepped forward, the clang of her armor a statement in itself. “With respect, perhaps I’d be better qualified to consult on that topic. I have been battling monsters for most of my life, whereas my understanding is that Auro has been sequestered from the world at large.”

“If you want to tell us about the monsters, that would be welcomed. I don’t trust you to weigh in on the matter of Perle’s match, though. Proper assessment requires a certain ruthless detachment that Auro possesses, and you don’t.” Ivan didn’t sound especially sorry about his statement. Then again, he didn’t really sound especially anything most of the time.

If Perle didn’t know better, she’d have thought he found their deadly adventure with world-changing stakes to be… boring. Or perhaps tedious was the term? Whatever the right phrase, Ivan often seemed barely engaged with anything of her world.

Even as he ripped its denizens to pieces.

“Goodness, I haven’t felt the urge to blush like this since I was a hatchling,” Auro tittered. He scanned over the various postings, leaning closer to read the details on several. Elya followed, albeit at a slower pace.

Eventually Auro skittered back over to Ivan, who was still looking over the sheets of parchment like enlightenment might suddenly descend. “I’ve taken note of four tasks that potentially fit our criteria. A swarm of calcetromps which has infested the basement of a local bakery, reports of an azkrill snatching prey at dusk, herds of porrils migrating through the city’s sewers, and an odd influx of creatures tormenting farms along the northern wall. Any of these should be within Perle’s capabilities, though each would present unique challenges.”

“Ch-challenges!” Elya sputtered. “Calcetromp swarms can devour adult horses before they have a chance to run. Azkrill beaks pierce any armor that isn’t heavily enchanted, and their wings are weapons as well. One porril can punch through a stone wall with its head; a herd is capable of leveling entire towns. And I read that listing about the northern farms, an ‘odd influx’ is a massive understatement of the numbers indicated.”

“I did say there were unique challenges,” Auro replied, entirely unfazed by Elya’s consternation.

Ivan’s voice, on the other hand, provoked a very different reaction. “Is she right? We’re aiming to train Perle, not kill her outright.”

While Perle did appreciate that sentiment, she couldn’t help wishing there was a tad more division between those concepts.

Auro nodded enthusiastically, any aura of apathy abandoned. “Were Perle merely gifted with a sword, or spells, or physical potential, these tasks would indeed fall beyond her skills. However, because she has been pushed on all three fronts by, and forgive the hubris here, exceptional teachers, Perle’s overall capabilities are supported by one another.”

His eyes trailed lazily over to Perle, who met his gaze head-on, earning a smile from the serpent. “She can handle these. I am sure of it.”

“Fine then, the question is now a matter of which to choose.” For the first time since they’d started reviewing the Butcher’s Boards, Ivan actually turned toward her. “Any preferences?”

“Not the sewer,” Perle piped up immediately.

Both Auro and Elya nodded their agreement. “Wise choice,” the knight added.

“Agreed, not going to fight you on that one,” Ivan concurred.

The first elimination had been easy, while the second took some thought. Still, Perle did see another easy elimination. “My spells are ill-suited to deal with swarms, and the sword would be little help.”

That left the azkrill and the movement of monsters outside the northern wall. It sounded as if the latter would involve a longer trek and less-defined targets, although it also probably presented the chance for Perle to do the most good. She decided it was worth asking for a few more details, though.

“What sorts of creatures are azkrils? I’m assuming a bird, since you mentioned a beak and wings.”

“The unforgivable spawn of a bird and a ghoul, more like. Azkrils hunt at dusk, when the light is changing and they can hide in the sky. They aren’t especially strong and most are only as big as a large hound, but they dive quick as lightning, then paired with those beaks… well, enough speed and strength isn’t really necessary anymore. One strike to end their prey, and then they fly off with their prize.” Elya’s hand clenched tightly, eliciting groans from her metal.

“Doesn’t sound especially tough,” Ivan remarked. “That makes the northern lands⁠—”

“An azkrill’s favorite flesh is that of humans.” The strain of Elya’s fist had reached her tone, a thread of scarcely contained violence woven through every syllable. “But due to their size, they cannot carry off most adults. So they turn their hunger toward smaller prey.”

Perle expected more indifference and was building up her courage to insist they hunt such a vile monster, when a flicker of something new passed across Ivan’s face. Whether it was interest, concern, or even anger, there had undeniably been some change.

“I see.” Ivan’s words were spoken simply and softly, yet Perle still had to fight to keep her hands from shaking at the sound. “Where can we find this bird?”

Auro was already looking over the parchment more carefully, tapping a section near the bottom. “Says it’s been largely spotted in the far eastern part of the city, just before the Sage’s District. That area probably has wards to keep it back, but there are lots of tall buildings in the eastern section. Perfect for nesting or swooping down from above.”

Most of the group, save for Ivan, glanced up to the sky. They were past midday, though just barely. If the azkrill hunted around dusk, that gave them a fair stretch of time before it should be out. Plenty of time to reach the correct part of Omotane.

“Auro, you and Elya secure our lodgings, then grab any supplies you suspect will be useful for the night’s battle. Meet us in the eastern section, and you can spend whatever time remains preparing Perle for her foe. For now, she and I will scout.”

As usual, Ivan didn’t wait around to see if his words would be followed, instead heading directly east from the Butcher’s Boards, like he was planning to plow through anything in his path. Realizing that might very well be exactly what he had in mind, Perle rushed to his side.

They strolled in silence through Omotane’s streets, watching as the buildings and people walking around them grew steadily more ornate with each passing road. It was plain to see which direction gold flowed in Omotane, the Sage’s District visibly teemed with magic, like a hum in the background that grew louder as they approached.

Entry into that section was regulated at checkpoints, each staffed by at least two guards wearing tabards with the sage’s sigil. No doubt they were on the lookout for demon infiltrators or operatives; those working under a sage had to exercise caution. Even Ivan stopped to stare at one of the checkpoints, his eyes boring into the guards for several long moments before he shook his head and carried on.

Perle would have loved to ask what that was all about, but speaking with Ivan had always been a trying task, and time had only increased the difficulty of broaching sincere conversation. So instead, she followed along, halting when he would suddenly stop and look about, following when he resumed their trek after the short pause.

Until they halted below a massive belltower, one that was clanging out so loud it drowned out all the nearby sound. Ivan stood there unbothered, slowly turning in place and drawing quite a few looks for his odd behavior. He paid them no mind, completing three more rotations before finally halting, his head inclined toward the top of the belltower.

“Let’s hope Auro and Elya have some excellent advice to impart. It seems you’re in for quite a tussle tonight.”

3

Perle wiped the sweat from her hands as she lay crouched in the shadow of an alley. In most of her battles so far, there had been very little waiting. Virtually as soon as the enemy appeared, conflict began, and usually ended quite quickly after.

It was, upon reflection, a bit worrying how many people had thrown their lives away for the chance to die at Ivan’s hands.

Out in the street, a child in bright blue clothing bounced an old ball off the side of an empty building, their bait for tonight’s outing. He wasn’t really a child, of course. Even if Perle had found it in her to sign off on such an idea, Elya would never have stood for it. No, the small figure playing in the road was actually Auro, who’d been unexpectedly enthusiastic about the idea of acting as bait.

Then again, what task couldn’t Auro find some measure of delight in?

Perle’s eyes darted up to the darkening sky, the day’s final clutches being slowly loosened as the sun drifted lower on the horizon. Nearby, she could just make out the form of Elya hidden on the roof of another building, holding its chimney for support. Ivan was the only one mobile; his ability to teleport allowed him to cover a larger area, though only as a scout.

He’d made it abundantly clear that while they would help locate the foe, this was Perle’s fight alone. Much as Perle wanted to think he’d of course step in if she was actually about to die, in truth she had some serious doubts. Ivan had made no secret of his displeasure in being summoned; only his debt to Fesver had kept him tagging along this far. And dying in pursuit of greater strength sounded exactly like the kind of ending her uncle would have approved of.

Best to take Ivan at his word and fight like her life was on the line. Even if she was wrong, the azkrill would be out hunting that evening, so Perle was certainly battling for someone’s life.

Testing the pull of her sword from the scabbard, Perle tried to draw comfort from the sensation of the blade. It was her inheritance from Fesver, a tool strong enough to even cut Ivan when wielded properly. Yet no matter how long she held it, the sensation of a weapon in her hand never felt quite right.

Perle had been proud of her title of Priestess; she’d loved her time studying magic and history among the other clergy. Given the choice, she would happily have remained in those hallowed halls for the remainder of her life. But her temple was burned, her friends and colleagues butchered, and the Order of the Lost Moon was in shambles. There was no telling if her order even still existed, rendering her title nothing more than hollow words.

It was the demons who’d forced her hand, sent her racing into the night with a handful of salvaged pages and the mad idea to summon a champion. There was no going back to a dead temple, no returning to a life that had ended, even if she survived. Perle had to look forward to the life she could still lead, to the difference she could now make.

Pushing the sword back into the scabbard, Perle wiped her hands on her robes again.

“Oh my, is it getting dark so soon?”

Hands still clutched the fabric of her robes, Perle’s whole body went rigid at the words leaving the child’s mouth. That was the signal that Auro had seen something in the sky. Shifting her head as quietly as she could manage, Perle peeked out from around the borders of the alley, scanning upward.

Even channeling magic to enhance her vision and knowing exactly what she was after, Perle still barely spotted the azkrill. Its dark, shimmering feathers blended so well with the fading light of the sky, and it was flying in a cloud on top of that, only its head and part of a wing poking through. The beak was just as described, long and sharp, like a massive mosquito had been merged with the beast.

Watching it move closer, Perle was suddenly struck by a new terror. What if it didn’t take the bait? Omotane was a huge city; even its districts were sprawling. There might be a cluster of children several streets over that made a more tempting target.

“All this play has left me so exhausted, I’d be unable to flee even from a life-threatening peril.” Auro bounced his ball against the wall once more, making a show of being slow and weary. “Yet the activity has also left me the perfect mix of muscle and fat to balance substance and flavor.”

Sometimes, Perle managed to forget what Auro’s true form actually was, and his penchant for dining on humans. At least he’d restrained himself to people trying to kill him, though. Perle wasn’t sure when her moral code had shifted to allow that to function as an excuse, but it was probably around the time she had to wander burning halls amid the corpses of her fellow clergy.

She stared as the azkrill’s beak bobbed back and forth from its hiding place among the clouds. It swept in steady semi-circles, like it was searching for something. When it finally halted, Perle’s heart leapt into her throat.

The azkrill wasn’t pointing at Auro; it had set its beak to the south, where unknown targets would be suddenly skewered. Grasping her blade at the same time she searched her mind for spells, Perle realized she had no way of forcing it down. Auro would surely know a spell for the task, however, he was stuck acting as the bait, a disguise that would be immediately compromised if he started to weave magic.

While Perle was panicking, the azkrill’s beak started to move again, returning to its swinging motion. She had no idea what had changed, merely offering up a prayer of thanks for the shift in fortune. Her worry about the coming battle had metamorphosized into terror that she wouldn’t get to fight the beast. That it might swoop down and strike an unsuspecting target while she could do nothing but stand there helplessly and watch.

Like she’d watched the other clergy die while she hid. Like she’d seen the temple burn while she salvaged scraps. Like she’d observed Ivan’s rampages. Always present, always pointless, only there acting as witness to the great deeds of mightier beings.

The azkrill’s beak stopped swinging again, and this time, it was angled directly at Auro.

When Perle took hold of her sword this time, there was no sense of discomfort. Her mind was too focused on the task ahead to bother with such trivialities. Setting her feet into position, Perle tucked her body in tight, minimizing the chance she’d be spotted as the azkrill descended.

And descend it did.

Tucking those dark wings in tight, the azkrill dropped like a stone, hurtling toward the ground at incredible speeds. It was no wonder so few people even had the chance to dodge, let alone fight back. Had she not been watching the monster, Perle never would have spotted it in motion, the silent dive and dark sky offering no clues about the impending assault.

Bursting from her hiding place with all the might her legs could muster, Perle hurtled forward, sword extended, swinging the blade with stunning precision. Even watching the azkrill pick its target and dive, she barely arrived in time, the beak spearing directly through Auro’s tiny leg when he spun left at the last moment.

Rather than cry out in shock, Auro grasped the beast’s beak with both hands, his childish smile turning unnaturally large and toothy. This, too, had been part of the plan. Knowing the azkrill could fly away when confronted, they’d needed a way to keep it grounded long enough for Perle to land a blow.

Using the momentum of her charge and the strength of her newly-trained muscles, Perle swung Fesver’s sword down onto its left wing. With a thunderous clang it bounced off, several severed feathers falling away, yet not a drop of blood appeared.

When her journey started, Perle would have panicked at the failed strike, however weeks sparring against Elya had offered ample practice in the art of failure. Using the momentum from her blade’s bounce, Perle spun on the spot, slamming her sword into the azkrill’s extended neck.

Unlike with the wings, this time she managed to carve away some of its flesh. The sword cut perhaps a half-finger deep before the dense flesh forced it to halt, muscles straining against the invading metal. Whipping its head toward Perle, the azkrill dragged Auro along for the ride as it tried to spear her with its beak.

Luckily, Auro was heavier than he appeared, forcing the monster’s head to stay pointed toward the ground. That didn’t keep it from sweeping a wing at her, though, sharp feathers slicing into Perle’s skin as they swung past.

Muttering a spell of mending without lowering her blade, Perle realized she owed a debt of thanks to Auro as well. Casting spells had once demanded every ounce of her focus; the slightest interruption could shatter her delicate mental state. Wrestling with the serpent’s mana nightly had taught Perle to not only ignore mundane distractions, but also issues like the cold, the wet, the wind, and of course, plenty of pain.

Auro was not a gentle teacher. He was, however, an effective one.

With Perle’s injuries already fading, she considered the foe before her. Its feathers were both an armor and a weapon, tougher than what her sword could currently handle. In theory its sharpness scaled with her determination, but that was too ineffable a factor to count on. No, Perle had to work with what she had, not trust in a new power that may or may not manifest.

If the feathers were too tough, Perle would just cut around them, like she had with its neck. Since Auro was still weighing down the azkrill’s beak, Perle stepped in to strike at its eyes. Her blade flashed through the night, striking its skull over and over. The azkrill always adjusted just enough to avoid being blinded. Small gashes covered its head, yet the eyes remained pristine, all that marked her efforts thus far were a few trickles of blood dripping down its face.

The azkrill seemed to be mocking Perle with its gaze, yet she paid the implied insult little mind, inspiration having already struck. Perle continued her assault with an unyielding fervor, slicing near its eyes over and over. It was a level of physical activity that once would have left her keeled over and gasping for air, however that was before Ivan trained her body. His insistence on using himself for resistance had seemed so strange at first, until Perle saw the results.

Somehow, Ivan could tell when her muscles were at their breaking point. It was then that he’d allow her to cast spells of mending, only to break her down once again. He said it allowed them to work in more training than a body could usually handle, and as Perle felt her own natural physical talents growing exponentially, she had to admit the man clearly knew what he was talking about.

The azkrill kept dodging the strikes to its eyes, but at last, Perle’s plan was bearing fruit. Streams of blood dripped down its head, a few splashing into the same eyes it was taking such pains to protect. The moment it blinked in surprise, Perle swung hard for its neck, carving another modest slice through the flesh.

Realizing it had been tricked, the azkrill attempted a retreat, scrambling back across the cobblestones while whipping at Perle with its wing. Although Auro was initially dragged along, the azkrill soon lifted a clawed leg and slammed it against the small form, at last managing to pull its beak free. The kick was so strong it sent Auro flying back into an alleyway, where Perle heard him hit the wall with an audible thud. She hoped he was alright, but there wasn’t any chance to go check, not when the azkrill was attempting to take off.

Racing closer, sword at the ready, Perle tried to imagine how she would possibly ground this monster without Auro’s help. Her attempts to injure its wings had ended up with Perle being the more hurt of the two, and while she’d landed a few good blows on its neck, they were hardly debilitating. If the azkrill escaped, it would hide away to heal up.

Just not before it snared a new dinner to replace what had been lost. Perle couldn’t let that happen. So she did the only thing that came to mind: Perle leapt atop the azkrill’s back.

Instantly, the sharp feathers sliced into her legs and arms, parting skin and spilling blood everywhere they touched. Rather than try and cut its neck once more, Perle instead used the flat of her blade paired with her newly trained muscles to whack it in the throat. Unlike her cutting efforts, this attack had an immediate effect, causing the azkrill to hack and cough as it stumbled around.

Unfortunately, it also still attempted to take off, raising its wings and cutting further into Perle as she was buffeted by winds. Her body was helping keep it grounded, but she wasn’t sure if hanging on was truly a viable option.

Like a bolt of darkness from the sky’s fading light, Elya leapt down from the roof where she’d been watching. Clasping both gauntlets together, she brought them down like a makeshift mace on the azkrill’s right wing, earning an audible snap as the bone popped.

Perle’s heart filled with hope for a brief moment, until Ivan appeared suddenly at Elya’s side. “Not yet.”

“She needs help!” Elya reared back for another strike, only to find her hand halted by Ivan’s grasp.

“There is more to Perle than this. She can push further.”

Elya struggled to pull free, and as she did, a current of energy surged through her. When it encountered Ivan’s hand, the force didn’t push him back, burn him, or cause any of the effects Perle might have expected. Rather, it seemed to crash against an energy of Ivan’s, one that produced an unexpected harmonic resonance as the two collided.

Then they were gone, both vanishing from sight at the same moment Perle was bucked from an angry azkrill.

Staggering up and muttering a spell of mending as she moved, Perle surveyed her now-wounded foe. With flight no longer viable, the battle should be a simple matter of steadily wearing the creature down. Just as she had with Dezzolorth, Perle could beat her opponent with a quantity of strikes, rather than quality. She just had to slow and carefully⁠—

“Wh- what is that?”

Holding hope against hope that Auro had wandered back over and was putting on more pageantry, Perle turned to find an entirely different child than the one he’d been masquerading as pressed against the cold stone of a nearby wall, staring at the azkrill with utter horror. The young girl’s eyes were wide and unsteady, bobbing back and forth as she looked for a safe place to escape.

How did someone get so near to the fight? Because Ivan and Elya were busy helping her, Perle realized. And now, due to her inability to finish a foe fast, there was an innocent in danger. One glance showed Perle that the azkrill had indeed taken note of their new arrival. A mad hunger gleamed in its eyes, the injuries driving out anything other than the most primal of instincts.

Feed. Run. Hide. Recover.

Even without wings, the azkrill was still fast. It charged toward the child, powerful legs propelling it across swaths of ground in a single step. As it moved, so too did Perle, interposing herself between the azkrill and its target, sword at the ready. It all happened so fast, there was no time to think.

Which also meant no time to doubt.

Perle simply had to succeed. That’s all there was to it. If she died, if she failed, a family would have their lives forever altered. There would be a piece of them lost, stolen away by this monster in the night. A sight that had been far too common in recent years.

But not here. Not tonight. Not while she had the power to change that fate.

The azkrill tried to rush past Perle, trusting its feathers to turn away her strike. In its hurry, the monster presented a perfect opening, one that Perle seized as she swung her sword through the air. Like she had cut through congealed fat, the left wing gave way at the stroke of her sword, falling limp and useless to the street as a river of dark yellow blood came gushing out of the newly-formed wound.

Shrieking in rage, the azkrill tried to swing its beak around, but Perle hadn’t stopped her strike after slicing off its wing. Her blade continued forward as her body spun, coming up to cut through the azkrill’s skull at a diagonal angle.

When most of its head slid to the ground with a splat, the fight went out of the azkrill, as did control over its muscles. The monster collapsed in a heap, but Perle’s focus was on the child behind her. Spinning around, she rushed to the young girl’s side. “Are you alright? Were you hurt?”

“I’m perfectly fine, thanks to you.” No longer with wide, fearful eyes, the calm young girl still sounded quite strange as she spoke with Auro’s voice. “You were an excellent protector.”

Perle’s face darkened as she stood up, staring balefully down at the being she’d thought to be an ally. “A trick?”

“Ivan thought you might need an extra prod. You noble types always focus better when there’s a life on the line other than yours. I suggested we round up the local orphans to act as fodder, but he insisted I take the role.”

Mad as Perle wanted to remain, the accuracy of Ivan’s assessment lay dying in the road behind her. Alone, Perle had barely managed to hold the beast at bay. Only when she thought there was someone else at risk had Perle managed to do something extraordinary. It was good experience, and probably a wise thing to know about herself.

Although Perle did wonder if perhaps this wasn’t a sign that she should work on better valuing her own life.

4

The actual exchanging of the azkrill for coin was handled by Elya, who had ample experience in dealing with jobs from Butcher’s Boards. Once the shock of the encounter had faded, Perle found herself largely useless, muscles limp and exhausted after the relatively short bout.

During her weeks of training, she’d thought the other three were pushing her hard. But weighed against true battle, with life on the line beyond her own… there was really no comparison for that. Still, Perle felt like she better understood where they’d been trying to lead her.

One moment of weakness, a single failure, and that would be the end. Perle didn’t have Elya’s skill, Auro’s magic, or Ivan’s raw strength. She couldn’t tear through monsters like they were nothing more than bothers to be scraped off her boot.

The priestess, Auro, and Ivan all sat in a small restaurant that was also a tavern, with the latter business being largely patronized by the locals. Given the late hour, it wasn’t surprising, though Perle could have done without the stink of spilled ale endlessly wafting to her nose.

A thud of armor jangling snapped Perle out of her funk as Elya took the empty fourth seat, helm inclining toward them.

“Any trouble?” Ivan inquired, barely looking up from the platter of spiced meats he’d been steadily devouring. It was his such third dish, and good timing for Elya’s arrival, since Perle suddenly realized they had little money to pay with.

The shake of Elya’s head caused her helm to rattle loudly, though it failed to pierce the overall din of noise from more boisterous drinkers. “Nothing immediate. Collected the coin without issue, however I was instructed to return come the morning. Allegedly, the azkrill has been a nuisance for some time, and its slayer will be offered more jobs the city would like to see purged.”

“Oh goodness, from that lovely ‘allegedly,’ are we supposed to surmise you think there might be more afoot?” Auro leaned forward, inadvertently dunking the front of his robes in the large bowl of soup he’d been steadily slurping down. Despite the fact that he was mid-meal, the gleam in his eye was positively ravenous.

“It is possible the offer is sincere; however, it is not uncommon for the local forces to take what should be triumphs as personal slights. Balipher the Sage commands many people, a great deal of which work as guards throughout the city. I did a bit of inquiring around after turning in the azkrill, and it seems some of those forces made a failed attempt on it a few weeks back.”

“So, wait… they’re mad because we showed them up? Shouldn’t they be happy that the city is safer?” Perle wanted to be shocked at the pettiness being described, unfortunately her journey had already shown her too much of humanity’s darker nature.

Elya shrugged, causing the table next to her to wince slightly at the sound. “This is all mere conjecture. Perhaps Omotane truly does have more tasks that we are suited to fill. But if it were the winds of trouble stirring, this would not be the first time I’d seen such a storm.”

“It’s fine,” Ivan interrupted. “We’ll go in the morning. If they’ve got monsters for us to deal with, that’s free training for Perle. If it’s a trap, I’ll just kill them all. Nothing worth worrying about either way.”

The casual ease with which he decreed he would execute anyone in his path might have been funny, given that he was already chewing through another big bite, if only Perle didn’t know how minor a matter it would be for him.

Part of her wanted to object to the idea, certain it would only lead to trouble. But that was only the case if Omotane’s forces were plotting something nefarious, which still seemed like a stretch. She had no doubt Elya had encountered such petty selfishness in smaller regions, but Omotane was a major city. Surely there was enough oversight to keep any would-be tyrants from rising too far.

Perle wasn’t sure if she really believed that anymore, or merely wished to.

Regardless, if the city did have more monsters like the azkrill lingering, Perle wanted to help. Not just for the training, though she could readily admit it was needed. This was a chance to do something positive; to balance the striking amount of death she’d brought into her world through Ivan.

“Now that everyone’s together and business is handled, I’ve been salivating to ask: that spark between you two, did you recognize it?” Auro had straightened up in his chair, the sizable soup stain somewhat spoiling his menacing aura.

Ivan said nothing, pointedly keeping his focus on dinner, while Elya mustered her words slowly. “I have… seen such flares before. They occur when two magics similar in nature interact with one another.”

“It’s called attunal resonance around here, though that really only captures a single aspect of the phenomenon.” Auro’s words were a marked contrast to Elya’s, bursting from his mouth with abundant enthusiasm. Odd as the serpent’s perspective could be, he was consistent in his adoration of magic. “It means the two of you both call forth magic from a similar source.”

Ivan’s hand halted midair, a hunk of meat dangling from between his fingers. He lifted his eyes, which narrowed slightly, though Perle didn’t sense any hostility directed toward their group. “You said you were experimented on by a mad wizard, correct?”

“Just about my whole village was,” Elya added, her tone oddly flat considering the subject matter.

Something in Ivan suddenly changed, his whole body turning briefly rigid. “And you… you were the lone surviving subject.”

“I was.”

Perle had seen Ivan indifferent, annoyed, hungry, and angry, but this was perhaps the first time she’d caught an expression she would call “troubled” on his face. He stared at Elya for a long while, as if trying to bore through that helm with vision alone. Maybe he had that power, for all Perle knew. It wasn’t as if she had the sense he’d needed to push himself for any of his other displays yet.

It was Auro who finally broke the silence, unable to contain his giddy excitement. “You know, if two sources are similar enough, it’s possible to use one to reinforce the other. Obviously not something Ivan would need, but given Elya’s unstable nature, we might be able to⁠—”

“No.”

The word was spoken with conviction and certainty, along with a mild echo, because it exited two separate mouths at nearly the same time. Ivan and Elya had both vetoed the idea before it could even be fully spoken.

For a moment, neither spoke again, an awkward silence lingering with even Ivan’s chewing paused, until Elya finally offered an explanation. “In my youth, I was… not at peace with my fate. I chased a great many so-called cures and restoratives, used my strength toward less than noble means with the excuse that my very life was on the line.”

Reaching up, Elya tapped her armor, where a faded crest could just barely be seen out under the rust and dust of travel. “Finding The Order of the Shatterfly gave me a sense of purpose, but it also meant accepting my fate. The value of my days is in how I spend them, not their quantity. I will not, cannot return to the lures of false promises nor the costs of chasing them. Better to live honorably in the time I have.”

Perle wanted to reach out and lay a comforting hand on Elya’s arm, even if she wouldn’t be able to feel it through the armor, however she was unsure if the gesture would read as empathy or pity. In her uncertainty, she did nothing, and then the moment passed as Ivan spoke up.

“You may think me callous and without regard for life, but there are lines I refuse to cross. The cost of this power is not one I would ever see another pay.” Ivan leaned back a bit in his chair, and for the first time Perle could recall, her champion looked weary.

“But the power itself is a cost as well. My magic embodies destruction, on a scale I’m not sure you have the population density to fathom. What I can do, what my body was built to do is… I can’t spread this around. You seem like an earnest knight, Elya; I respect your dedication and admire your efforts. Better to see that life through than become something like me.”

“Destruction…” Elya’s left hand lifted, gauntlet running gently along the exterior of her helm. “That would explain a bit.”

She didn’t seem put out by Ivan’s refusal, which hardly shocked Perle, given that Elya had replied with the same sentiment. The most bothered person present appeared to be Auro, who was visibly pouting that his magical discussion had been cut short. He even waved his hand and got rid of the soup stain, evidently finished with that bit of visual humor.

The rest of dinner was a relatively quiet affair. In spite of their immediate rejections of the idea, Perle wondered if Ivan and Elya were still pondering about the potential. If so, they kept it to themselves as Ivan went through four more dishes of meat before the group finally turned in for the night.

With their influx of funds, they splurged on two rooms at a nearby inn. Ivan and Auro took one, with Elya and Perle in the other. Although she was tempted to ask Elya more about her past, there was one threat to the conversation Perle failed to consider.

After weeks of traveling through the woods, Perle’s body fell unconscious the moment she hit the soft bed and fluffy pillows awaiting her. She tried to struggle, managing to kick her boots off, but that was all the priestess could accomplish before sleep claimed her fully.

Deep as she slept, Perle didn’t escape the reach of dreams entirely. She fought the azkrill again several times, losing often, and seeing the child behind her snatched up more than once. Knowing it was really Auro did little to help her dream-self, but at least she won a few of the rematches.

When morning came, Perle wasn’t fully rested, but nor was she entirely exhausted.

By the time everyone had washed up and gotten breakfast, Perle was working to hold back a nervous energy that caused her fingers to drum and her feet to tap. Most of her group was calmly shoveling down butter-covered griddle cakes and slabs of salted meat, knowing that they were about to walk into a potential trap.

Cavalier as Ivan acted, if they murdered a large part of Balipher’s guard, there would be consequences. Sages were among the most politically powerful people in the entire kingdom; their knowledge and skill already made them invaluable, and that status allowed them to foster connections with other powerful people. The man had a whole district of Omotane under his control; if Ivan slaughtered his guards, they might end up branded enemies to the kingdom at large.

Which would make it especially hard to save said kingdom from the demonic invaders Perle was trying to drive back.

A fact she tried not to focus on as they made their way through Omotane, approaching a building near one of the bridges leading into the guarded district. It was visibly more ornate than the others around it, with a large version of Balipher’s sigil draped on a tapestry hanging above the door. Stepping through, they found a bustling chamber full of many people, some wearing armor, others clad in cloth, all adorned in the Sage’s symbol. Draped silks hung from the ceilings, ornate paintings adorned the walls, and even the floor beneath their feet appeared to shine with quality.

Upon their entry, Perle also noticed a great many looks aimed their way. Most slid across the group with minimal interest, at least until they reached Elya. Seeing her, some shook their heads, others looked away, and a few grew unexpectedly tense. Perle didn’t have a chance to try and parse just what that meant before a sharp voice cut through the racket.

“The azkrill slayer arrives!”

Those previous benign glances turned suddenly harsh as Perle’s group was scrutinized in a new light while a man in gleaming silver armor with golden trim clanked his way loudly across the room. Having traveled with an armor-user for so long, Perle noted that he seemed to be walking with intentional volume, drawing as much attention as possible.

That… did not bode well. Swallowing her fear, Perle shot Ivan a glance, attempting to will thoughts of calmness and patience into his body.

“Hail mighty slayer of the azkrill, a beast we mere soldiers of the Sage could clearly never defeat.” The speaker was tall and handsome, or would be without the pinched expression that only tightened as he drew near.

Laying a hand on Elya’s shoulder, he beamed a shining smile. “How kind of you, knight of the Shatterfly, to make time to step into our city, bloody your blade on our monsters, make off with the glory⁠—”

“Excuse me. I killed the azkrill.”

Perle wondered who had said that for several heartbeats before the horrible truth sank in. She had said that, stepping closer to the imposing new knight without even noticing. What’s more, her hand was on the knight’s forearm, the same arm whose hand he was resting on Elya.

The knight looked her over once and scoffed. “The Shatterfly here tried to feed me the same story, a tale of some priestess fighting back the demons. Priestess of the Lost Moon, wasn’t it? Sorry no one told you, dearie, but that order is dead. Every one of their temples has been burned to the ground, with the clergy inside slaughtered.”

No strike he could have levied would hit like those words. Perle stumbled back, the room starting to spin as she grappled with his claim. Surely the Order of the Lost Moon wasn’t entirely gone. There were others like her out there, survivors still doing their best to hang on. There had to be, didn’t there?

Still, the extent to which Perle had been hunted was shocking, when she considered it. Even the soldiers that appeared when she first summoned Ivan… Perle had assumed they somehow knew what she was up to, but what if they were just tracking her?

“You know, friend, I adore a sumptuously unkind person with your marbling under the right circumstances. These, unfortunately, are not those circumstances.”

Perle finally steadied herself enough to realize that Auro had imposed himself between herself and the knight, a wide grin stretched across his face. “May I inquire your name, good sir?”

“Jayviz, though they often call me Jayviz the Thorough around here.”

“Wonderful! I am Auro, this is Elya, behind me is Ivan, and this is Perle.” Without warning, Auro leapt up onto a nearby table, drawing even more attention to their ongoing scene. When he spoke again, his voice boomed through the entire building.

“Slayer of Dezzolorth! Savior of Ravidon! Summoner of the wandering champion! And yes, killer of your little local azkrill monster. Perle, the last priestess of the Lost Moon, who is on a pilgrimage to drive the demons from this very world. Rejoice, soldiers of the Sage, for your efforts have been seen and recognized. Humanity’s savior herself has paid you the compliment of her presence.”

Jayviz tried to laugh the whole matter away, but he misjudged two components: the first being that Auro was too magnetic to dismiss so easily. The second misjudgment he made was not realizing that rumors traveled much faster than a party slowly making their way through the woods.

Whispers rose all around them, Perle was only able to catch snippets here and there.

“I heard it was a girl from the Lost Moon.”

“Ravidon is free, we saw those merchants last week.”

“I heard she cut off the demon’s head in the middle of the city.”

That last snippet brought an unexpected bout of nausea as Perle remembered Dezzolorth’s head hitting the ground with a disgusting squelch after hours of hacking through his neck.

Despite his haughty approach, Jayviz proved adept at reading a room. Upon seeing that Auro had the crowd’s attention, he stopped trying to curtail the man’s show and instead tried playing into it. “Such grand tales, and such an… unassuming package. You wish us to believe this mere priestess was able to slay a commander of the demons?”

“Oh certainly not. As a meager herald, I would never presume to grasp the capacity for understanding within a knight’s mighty skull. It is merely my duty to present the truth of her deeds. She plunged that sword through Dezzolorth’s neck with her own two hands, before a city of witnesses, no less. Whether you can accept that truth is a personal matter, though I understand the hesitance. It is indeed humbling to realize we walk in the presence of such great power!”

To Perle’s shock, Ivan chuckled softly. At least someone was getting entertainment out of the serpent’s actions, though they certainly didn’t lack for an audience. By this point, every eye in the building was squarely on their group. Perle didn’t think the meeting had been a trap, yet she still had to hope it didn’t devolve into a brawl.

For the poor guards who met Ivan’s fist, the outcomes would be roughly the same.

“Well then, if we have such a noble figure in our midst, the sage’s soldiers would of course be proud to offer our services in helping with your missions. Whether it be equipment, lodging, transportation, information, or even something as base as gold, you’ll find we can access just about anything we need.” Jayviz wasn’t quite as loud as Auro, but he projected well, his tone suddenly magnanimous.

While it was an unexpected turn, Perle could have wept in relief at even the idea of having a proper support network. Information and transportation alone would make a world of difference; getting Ivan to the right battlefields with minimal casualties in the process was about the best situation she could hope for. Yet there was still a sour note in Jayviz’s tone she didn’t trust.

“Of course, it would be irresponsible to grant such boons on claims and rumors alone,” Jayviz continued. “A measure of strength is required, to ensure you truly are the party from the rumors, and not just a group who found some old priestess robes.”

Ivan shifted slightly, and that one motion made Perle fear it was all going to fall apart, but Jayviz only glanced in her direction for a moment. “We would never be so presumptuous as to fight the slayer of Dezzolorth herself, obviously. No, far more fitting we test one of our own kin, albeit a knight of another order.”

His gleaming gauntlet lifted, pointing directly at Elya. “I will duel the Shatterfly to test the veracity of these claims.”

5

“So, it’s politics?” Ivan waited until they were out of the decadent building and back in their inn to finally pipe up, showing more self-control than Perle expected. Or wanted, in truth. She’d had to bite her tongue back from demanding answers through the whole walk; only Auro’s uncharacteristic silence stayed her questions.

If even the snake was keeping quiet, that was a message in itself.

Once they were in the room Ivan and Auro shared, the serpent had woven several spells and nodded to Ivan, which started their conversation at last.

“Something of that nature,” Elya confirmed. “Balipher’s order has been gathering support and power in Omotane, trying to build themselves as indispensable assets in a city that seemed fated to be a staging ground for grander battles. Or did, up until Ravidon was unexpectedly set free. Still, there are plenty of demon forces in proximity, enough that Omotane will inevitably grow more critical as the battles escalate.”

“Trouble is, Omotane has a lot of loyalty toward the Order of the Shatterfly, and there are city privileges here granted only to their knights, courtesies not extended even to the forces of the sage,” Auro added. “Among the egotistical, that sort of slight simmers, and even for the more practical forces it’s an issue. If they want Omotane to truly be their city, the citizens cannot hold greater loyalty to another order.”

Perle could restrain herself no longer, stepping physically forward. “But none of that explains what Jayviz gets out of dueling Elya. Why does he want to fight her publicly? Even if he were to win, beating one knight won’t sully the entire order.”

“For one thing, Jayviz almost certainly will win.” Elya’s tone seemed oddly detached, given that she was discussing her own impending defeat. “The markings upon his armor denoted a high rank, one earned through combat and accomplishments. Add in the quality of his armor and weaponry, as well as my own shortcomings, and it becomes a foregone conclusion.”

“Then I ask again: why? What does it prove?” Perle demanded.

In contrast to the others, Auro took a more relaxed posture, leaning against the door. “It proves that he’s better. Stronger. More capable of fighting back the demon we’ll be facing.”

“And? It doesn’t matter, it’s not like he’s going to…” Perle felt her words falter as understanding at last arrived. “Does he want to come with us?”

Elya’s armor clanged along with her nod. “Jayviz did not reach his position though a lack of ambition and wit. Word of your victory has already reached Omotane, and now you’ve slain a monster his own forces failed to hunt down. There is glory to be had at your side, and he intends to seize it for his order while striking me from my position, stealing any chance for the Order of the Shatterfly to gain renown alongside you.”

“Does he really think we’d make that trade? That if he were to leave you too injured to continue, we’d just let him join in your stead?”

“The resources of the sages cannot be so easily dismissed. With his order’s help, the mission becomes far more manageable,” Elya pointed out. “Whatever your personal feelings, one who marches with the fate of all humanity on their shoulders is unlikely to refuse such an opportunity, even if it did require stepping over a beaten ally. That, I presume, is Jayviz’s thinking.”

As much as Perle wanted to rebuke the notion entirely, she forced herself to pause and honestly pose the query to herself. Knowing the stakes they were fighting for, would she really turn down Jayviz’s help and resources just because she didn’t like his approach? Could she, with a clean conscience, permit such an action?

Ordinarily, the answer would be no. Jayviz would indeed have the upper hand, too useful to dismiss. But there was one element Jayviz did not, could not fathom. He had no idea how powerful Perle’s chosen champion really was. Resources were well and good, but Ivan was raw power personified. So long as he was at her side, they had a viable chance of success.

With, or without, some ass of a knight and his rich friends.

“I don’t care if he offers to march us to the leader of the demons personally while we ride in a golden chariot. No one is taking your place.” The words came out perhaps a bit more forcefully than were truly necessary. It was for the greater good anyway, Perle assured herself. Even if Jayviz was stronger, he wasn’t likely to get along with Auro and Ivan nearly so well as Elya, who somehow managed to be both touched by a malevolent power and one of the most considerate people she’d encountered.

As if to prove the point, Elya clanged as she shook her head sadly. “That is very kind, Perle. But I still cannot refuse his challenge, not without shaming my own order in the process. After all The Order of the Shatterfly has given me, I could never tarnish their name with an act of cowardice.”

“Jayviz doesn’t seem the sort to give up easily anyway,” Auro added. “If it’s not this plan, it will be another, one where we might not see his scheme so overtly.”

Perle wanted to protest the idea of the duel more, until she caught sight of her own robes and the symbol stitched upon them. If it were her in Elya’s shoes, having to defend the integrity of the clergy of The Lost Moon, would she be so quick to suggest what others thought didn’t matter?

“Fine, so Elya has to fight. We’re at least going to be thorough and prepar⁠—”

The wave of screaming that rose up from outside started soft, yet as Perle reached the end of her sentence, it grew impossible to ignore. She was momentarily confused, given that Auro had warded the room, and looked over to find him already offering an explanation.

“I guarded against sound getting out, not coming in. That would be an amateur mistake, allows for easy ambushes.”

Considering the growing yells of panic from outside, Perle had to give Auro credit; his spell-design did appear prudent. Since it was clear they weren’t going to chat more with the ruckus outside, everyone headed for the door, with Ivan in the lead. The hallways were clear, as were the stairs, and even the inn’s central room was found to be empty.

Stepping into the streets, it was easy to chart the flow of people. They were heading East, toward the lovely lookout gardens where one could gaze from the cliffside to the lands below. Most of the area was sectioned off into the guarded parts of town, however there were a few lookouts accessible to the general public. Perle had hoped to go check one out, if they ended up with any time to spare.

Instead, they were all but pulled into the river of people surging through the streets. Some peeled off at various road junctures, yet the majority of the crowd was staying on track. As they moved, Perle heard lots of shouting from the others, and while it was hard to get a clear understanding of their predicament, one word did keep getting bandied about with alarming frequency.

Demons.

The closer they got, the wilder the reports were shouted. First a battalion, then a horde, and by the time Perle reached the overlook for herself, people were yelling about an army of demons on the horizon. During her approach, Perle had assumed the escalating descriptions were a result of hysterics, but as she gazed down from Omotane’s cliff to the lands below, Perle had to admit that, if anything, the numbers were being undersold.

Inhuman creatures covered the ground like dirt in a roadside inn. Most appeared to be little more than mindless fodder, the sort of lesser monsters that demons like Dezzolorth brought in to pad their numbers. True outsiders were far less common, or used to be, anyway. In the demons’ recent aggression, their forces had swollen unnaturally, even if humans still held the tremendous advantage in numbers.

Yet one would hardly think they could ever be stressed for soldiers given the spectacle marching before them. The demons’ army was still days away even at a brisk pace, but when they arrived it was hard to imagine even the fortifications of Omotane enduring such a siege.

Perle plainly wasn’t the only one to consider such an aspect of the situation, as she noticed that there was a growing surge to get out of the city rather than remain inside and watch the demons approach. It was an understandable instinct; unfortunately, that plan would likely lead to many needless deaths. Within the walls of Omotane the civilians were protected, but out on the road they’d be completely helpless against demons, bandits, or just wandering monsters.

As for Perle, she stared in mute horror at the sea of foes drawing steadily nearer. After all of Ivan’s antics, somewhere along the line she’d become convinced of her champion’s invulnerability. When nothing appeared to be a challenge, it was nigh-impossible to imagine him losing – until she looked out upon an entire army of monsters marching toward them, at least.

Suddenly, Ivan’s defeat was all too easy to imagine.

Had she really felt so certain in their victory that there was no need for the sage’s resources when this was the kind of challenge awaiting them? Keeping Omotane from being razed to the ground would demand multiple miracles stacked atop one another, and even then, there was no guarantee.

Burly, furry monsters stomped so hard they left imprints in the dirt. Flying creatures skewered nearby wildlife with their wings, letting the bodies fall without taking so much as a single bite. Sleek beasts with sharp spines along their limbs snaked between their larger brethren, working to remain just out of sight. That was only a sampling of what Perle could make out from her vantage point as despair inflated within her chest.

Not until a heavy hand landed on her shoulder did Perle notice how labored her breathing had become. Her hands were shaking, and her vision was growing blurry around the edges. Had she been standing and staring for a while? Perle wasn’t even sure, but given that Ivan, of all people, had come to check on her, it was likely a fair bit of time.

“What… what do we… what can we…” With the impossibility of her tasks sitting so heavily on her shoulders, Perle expected to see at least a twinge of concern from Ivan. Some acknowledgement of the ludicrous challenge awaiting them.

Instead, she found what could only be described as a wry smirk, albeit a short-lived one. “Relax,” Ivan instructed. “They’re plenty far enough away for us to flee or fight at our leisure.”

Did he really think her primary worry was that they wouldn’t have enough time to kill the army? Given Ivan’s performance thus far, and Perle’s own bloodthirsty attitude toward Dezzolorth, it was just barely believable, yet still…

“Do you really think you can defeat that many demons?”

“Defeat implies a level of resistance I’m not sure is appropriate for these forces. Harvest, would perhaps be more apt.” Ivan didn’t even have the decency to sound boastful or bashful, delivering such a statement in his usual bland tones.

A new noise cut through the crowd around them, pulling Perle’s focus finally away from the demon army marching closer. Scanning the area to their rear, she quickly spotted the source of the noise: several of Balipher’s soldiers were on horseback, the golden filigree on their armor gleaming in the sun, shouting for everyone to remain calm.

“Be at peace!” The thick-necked man yelling that sentiment seemed to undercut it slightly with his volume, though to his credit, there was a large crowd to speak over. “Balipher has seen the threat and is mustering our forces even as we speak. Under the sage’s guidance, we shall strike down these forces before they ever draw within reach of Omotane.”

The most shocking thing to Perle about his proclamation was that it worked. At the sound of his words, the crowd grew visibly less frantic and the mounting tension seeped out like a leaking boat. Then again, she too had heard the tales of the sages.

Each was said to be a genius of incomparable talent, matched only by their fellow sages. The title was bestowed only on those with tremendous achievements in the magical arts and sciences, along with a proven history of using those creations to help the kingdom as a whole. Even now, a part of her wondered just what Balipher had in mind to drive back such a mind-boggling number of enemies.

“Any who wish to add their skills to our efforts, know that bounties are being set right this moment. Balipher will ensure any independent operators are well-compensated for this assistance. Join up at any of our stations throughout the city.”

With that, the thick-necked man rode further down the road, though not entirely out of sight, only to start delivering the exact same speech again several moments later. No wonder he’d been so concise; the poor fellow was getting arguably too much practice.

As for the crowd, some dispersed, others kept staring at the approaching army, and many mingled around, uncertain what next action to take. Of them all, Perle felt the most kinship with the third group. This was supposed to be a place to stop off, resupply, and gather information. Now they had Elya obligated to a duel, Jayviz aiming for her spot on the team, and an army moving steadily closer by the second.

No doubt a tactical mind would see some trick to unite these disparate factors to their advantage, but Perle had spent the majority of her life studying scripture and spellwork. If anyone wanted to know the nine tales of the Lost Moon, she could recount them word for word. Sadly, that skillset seemed in little demand these days.

Perle did have one solid advantage, though: she wasn’t alone.

“Curious timing,” Auro noted, leaning dangerously far over the railing keeping him from tumbling down the cliffside. “Are they here in reaction to Ravidon becoming free, tracking the woman who killed Dezzolorth, or is it all just coincidence? In any given war, there will be an abundance of troop movements.”

“My guess is Ravidon was originally slated for reinforcements, enough to really hold the city. Dezzolorth only had a few demons with him, remember; the rest of his troops were human traitors. Not the sort of army that could be trusted long-term. When Dezzolorth died, they probably pumped up the numbers and sent the force here instead.” Elya, at least, had the decency to sound unnerved by the enormous gathering before them.

That small realization sent a pang of fear through Perle’s heart. For all that she depended on them, Auro and Ivan were not human in the same way she was. Only Elya seemed to have any sense of reasonable perspective, being scared by armies and bothered by butchery. Without her around, the journey would have been far more difficult.

Replacing her with some pompous ass of a knight wasn’t a situation Perle even wanted to picture. Yet it was what she might be facing, if Jayviz got his way.

Slowly, the quartet made their way back through the streets of Omotane, the initial surge of panic giving way to a bustling focus. People were on street corners hawking any spare magical goods they had on hand, such as bottled potions to supposedly enchanted weapons that Perle suspected would do little more than leave her blade covered in colorful liquid.

A great deal of people were still running for the city gates, though not as many as Perle had feared. Along the way, they passed more of Balipher’s guards giving the same speech they’d already heard. Many of the citizens were heeding the call to arms; every station of the sage’s forces they passed had lines out the door.

Perle wondered if they would end up joining together with those forces; they did need money, and Ivan was excellent at killing. Not only would it be a chance to help defend Omotane, they’d be able to pad their finances in the process. Except… Perle wasn’t sure she could turn Ivan loose on that sort of battlefield. For one thing, everyone realizing how strong he actually was could lead to complications.

Secondly, and more importantly, Perle didn’t know if he was willing to avoid collateral damage.

Ivan might be her most potent weapon against the demons, but humanity could just as easily be caught in his wrath. There were several dead bandits and soldiers from the first leg of their journey to prove that point. Auro and Elya were better at blending in, or not so overwhelmingly powerful that they stood out by their very nature, though Perle wouldn’t put it past the serpent to steal a few snacks in the chaos of combat.

Perle was still mulling over the ethical implications of turning Ivan loose against the approaching army when they arrived at their inn, only to find one of Balipher’s guards in the gleaming armor waiting for them. His armor lacked the level of detail Jayviz’s had possessed, and it wasn’t polished to nearly the same reflective sheen, however the quality was still evident at a glance. The sage had access to so many funds and resources, all of which could be Perle’s if she accepted their aid.

After seeing an army marching toward their location, it wasn’t quite so easy to dismiss the idea of accepting their help. But Perle’s eyes darted to Elya, who’d stiffened at the unexpected sight. Balipher’s forces were going to fight the demons whether Perle was aligned with them or not; they had to if they wanted Omotane to survive. What Perle could control was how she and her team fared through the process.

“Ah, you must be the Shatterfly I’ve been dispatched for.” The man in armor sounded as haughty as his nose was pointy, and it was quite the sharp protuberance indeed. “Jayviz the Thorough has set your duel for this evening, as the sun wanes, in the northern combat colosseum. We do offer apologies for the short notice, however Omotane has other concerns to prepare for.”

The guard didn’t even linger for a response; he strode off as soon as the message was delivered, using a self-important gait that said he had nowhere important to be. It was a sharp contrast to the many civilians still racing around in sheer panic.

“Well, wasn’t he just a friendly fellow.” Auro’s words might have sounded complimentary, if not for the way he licked his lips and hungrily watched the guard walk out of sight. “I wonder how our dear Jayviz would react if you were to suddenly turn into a massive snake and bite his arm off. I’ve never been especially adept at replicating armor, but that’s what illusions are for anyway.”

To Perle’s surprise, Elya chuckled, the light noise echoing out of her helm. The knight patted their currently-transformed serpent on his narrow shoulder. “Thank you, Auro. It has been a long while since anyone tried to take up my fight. But I cannot disgrace my order with cowardice.”

Noble as that sounded, Perle wasn’t really sure letting Elya get publicly bested was necessarily the best thing for her order’s honor either. It was her choice, though, one that nobody was likely to talk her out of, so at the very least Perle would offer support.

“Is there anything we can do to help you prepare?”

6

The sun was sinking steadily toward the horizon. Its lingering light casting Elya in shadow as she stood on the elevated stone stage in the center of the colosseum, waiting. There was only a short while left until her bout began, yet she’d been there for some time, refusing to take the risk of a disqualification or other such nonsense.

Jayviz wanted a fight, and that’s what he was getting.

Perle, Auro, and Ivan had spent the remainder of the day helping Elya train. Granted, there was little they could accomplish in an afternoon, but if nothing else, the sparring had helped Elya shake off the dust of the road and get herself in a proper mindset.

Rather than wield a sword, Elya had elected to use a mace for her duel, which confused Perle until it was explained that using a sword against a trained combatant in full armor was a terrible proposition. The mace would allow Elya to leverage her exceptional strength, bashing in Jayviz’s armor to hinder his movement and hopefully injure the body below.

All of that was just as it should be. What Perle hadn’t counted on, however, was the crowd.

Hundreds of people filled the seats of the northern colosseum, which in hindsight Perle realized should have been her first clue. The mere fact that this city had multiple colosseums spoke to how much its citizens loved combat. And apparently, a great many loved to cheer for the sage’s troops especially.

That said, Omotane’s love for The Order of The Shatterfly was also on full display: a great number of the people were screaming encouragement to Elya. Perle was grateful for that; she wasn’t sure she had the composure to withstand an entire crowd rooting against her friend.

The noise suddenly hit a new fervor as movement could be seen from the colosseum.

From the left entrance, Jayviz strode into view, several knights and one old man in robes following in his wake. The knights all lined up on one end of the stage as Jayviz and the old man ascended the steps. Both continued forward until Jayviz halted some distance from Elya. The robed man kept going until he’d reached the stage’s exact center.

“Good people of Omotane! Welcome, to another night and another duel!” Despite his aged body, the man’s voice was vibrant and booming, easily reaching every ear and silencing lesser conversations. “I am Herisep, overseer of the duel and announcer of candidates. Tonight, we have an incredible bout of two knights, Jayviz the Thorough from The Order of the Sage⁠—”

Any next words he might have spoken were cut off by a surge of screams from the crowd, many yelling support as Jayviz waved back to them. Only once the swell of sound dissipated did Herisep continue, “—who will be dueling Elya, from The Order of the Shatterfly.”

Again, the crowd roared, and it sounded even louder than the first reaction to Perle. Given the brief, sour expression that flitted across Jayviz’s face, he’d noticed the same.

“Duels conducted here may end in three ways: render an opponent unable to continue, force an opponent to yield, or slay your opponent in combat. Falling off the stage will not result in a loss, but you are also not guaranteed protection from any seconds who are nearby.”

Suddenly, the cadre of knights Jayviz had brought along made more sense. Perle’s stomach turned at the realization that they were there to rough up Elya if she fell from the stage. Seconds indeed – it was a spot she would have happily stood in for her friend, had they known it was an option.

Ivan, of course, said nothing, while Auro let out a sharp hiss. “Well, that’s no fun. I wouldn’t have minded a seat right beside the action.”

The crowd was cheering for the accompanying knights, though not with the same fervor that Elya or Jayviz had received. When that died down, Herisep resumed his spiel. “Competitors, are you ready for combat?”

Drawing his sword with a flourish, Jayviz thrust it into the air. “The Order of the Sage is always ready for battle.” Perle couldn’t help but stare at the blade, noting the odd choice of weaponry since Elya also favored heavy armor. Did he have some sort of tactic in mind for slipping past her defenses?

A loud clang rang out as Elya smacked the shaft of her mace against her armored gauntlet. “The Order of The Shatterfly is prepared for what must be done.”

“Then, for the glory and grandeur of Omotane, I bid you to duel!” Herisep leapt to the edge of the stage as he spoke, displaying far more agility than Perle had expected. There was no time to dwell on the old man’s acrobatics, though, as Jayviz and Elya were both barreling toward one another.

Elya struck first, her dark armor rattling loudly as she tromped forward, slamming her mace into Jayviz’s left side. Rather than avoid the blow, he lifted his arm. Seconds before impact, a golden shield snapped into being, absorbing the vast majority of the strike. It did still push Jayviz back slightly, but he recovered immediately and aimed his own sword for Elya’s torso.

Despite the hefty amount of armor that would protect her from a slicing attempt, Elya quickly shifted to the side, a movement that proved its wisdom as the sword cut cleanly through her armor and into her shoulder, sending a spurt of blood across the stone floor.

“Jayviz draws first blood,” Herisep announced from his new position at the sidelines. “Soldiers of The Sage are gifted with resplendent equipment indeed; it’s no surprise Jayviz wields weapons and armor befitting of his rank.”

While the crowd roared, Perle felt like her heart had suddenly leapt into her throat and was choking out any air. The duel had been bad enough when it was Elya’s pride and position at risk, now her very life could be snatched away.

Grasping hold of Ivan’s arm, Perle paused for only a moment, asking if she was truly willing to pay what her next words would cost. As she wavered, Jayviz slashed at Elya again, carving away a section of her helm and a sliver of her ear to go along with it.

That settled Perle’s mind rather firmly.

“Ivan, stop them.”

His turn to face her wasn’t especially slow, yet it felt as if ages passed while Elya was pressed back across the stone stage. “You want me to end the duel?”

“Elya is bleeding, Jayviz has a magic shield and a sword that can cut through her armor. The fight is already done, we can figure out the repercussions later; what matters most is getting Elya out of there before she’s seriously hurt.”

After regarding her for several seconds, Ivan turned back toward the duel. “No.”

“This isn’t the time to get stubborn, our friend⁠—”

“Your friend has made her desires very clear.” There was something different in Ivan’s voice this time, a weight that made Perle’s whole body go cold. “Whether we agree with the choices or not, they are Elya’s to make. Her life, her death. She understands the stakes just as we do and is choosing not to surrender. So, rather than assuming she will lose, I’d recommend you try cheering for her victory.”

Looking back to the stone stage, Perle feared she’d find a horrid sight waiting. However… Elya wasn’t actually much worse off than when Perle turned away. She’d sustained injuries during the initial surprise strike, but had quickly adapted, and was now treating Jayviz’s sword with the respect it warranted, sure to always stay ahead of its edge.

At the same time, she was relentless in hammering on Jayviz’s magical shield. Sometimes she’d vary things up with a kick or a punch, forcing him to actually defend, but his offensive advantage made it difficult to establish any complicated strategy. Elya appeared to be betting everything on her physical gifts, trying to wear down Jayviz’s stamina at while she chipped away his shield’s magic.

Because she definitely was making a difference. Every strike made the glowing barrier flicker harder, and sparks were beginning to fly off when her mace made contact. Watching the way Elya bashed and battered her opponent around all while constantly defending drove home to Perle just how much the knight had been holding back in their sparring sessions.

Between her incredible strength, endurance, and ability to read the flow of combat, Elya had bridged the divide between their equipment. Against a lesser opponent, that might have been enough. Unfortunately, Jayviz was no set of hollow armor; he’d earned his position through combat and triumph. Even as Elya smashed his shield and drove him backward, Jayviz was learning her motions, adapting to her habits.

It didn’t happen right away. In fact, Elya had been hammering away for several minutes, deftly avoiding every thrust and slash. But all it took was one overextension, a single moment of unintended vulnerability, and Jayviz’s sword flashed through the air, drawing bright red droplets once more.

The slice was halfway through Elya’s left leg, and as she stumbled forward, Jayviz stabbed downward, thrusting cleanly through her right knee.

Perle was on her feet screaming, but it was lost in the eruption of sound from the crowd as a whole.

It was over, at least. Elya had clearly been incapacitated, yet she was still alive, so once the proper mending magics were applied… except… Herisep hadn’t ended the match. He was still on the side of the stage, watching intently, and slowly the crowd’s collective voice faded entirely.

Jayviz stood before Elya, sword at the ready. “I have taken your legs, yet left your arms unharmed. Will you yield now that the fight is dire, or remain stalwart, attempting to strike me when I move in to attack?”

Rather than answer, Elya propped herself up on her knees and slammed the mace into her gauntlet, just as she had at the start.

“Excellent, as a knight should be.” Jayviz raised his sword a few inches higher, selecting his next target. “The Order of The Shatterfly clearly does not abide cowards, I will pay them that respect.”

Then he was moving, sword flickering down, aimed for Elya’s heart. She dove low, swinging for his legs, but that damned shield suddenly appeared before them, causing Perle’s eyes to widen in shock. Through the entire fight, Jayviz had only conjured that barrier from his left arm, when the whole time he’d been able to position it anywhere?

Taking advantage of Elya’s foiled attack, Jayviz slashed across her helm once more. Although she leaned back, the slice caught the tip of her skull, while also cutting perpendicular to his earlier strike. The accumulated damage was too much for the battered equipment, and Elya’s helm slid away in two pieces, at last revealing the face below.

A face that was quite lovely in parts, though Perle instantly saw why Elya kept her helm on. Erosions ran along her skin, the muscles underneath shrunken and contracted. Paired with the healthy-looking sections, it gave her an almost patchwork pattern, vibrant flesh next to necrotic skin that had withered to the bone.

“Oh my, that is unfortunate.” Jayviz repositioned himself, taking a long gaze at Elya. “I will not leave a fellow knight in distress. Fear not, your shame is soon at an end.”

He advanced once more and Perle couldn’t help herself. Elya could harbor her death wish all she wanted after the fucking world was saved, but right now Perle needed her! She whirled to Ivan, ready to scream or bargain – whatever was needed to get him off his ass.

But Ivan wasn’t there any longer.

“Is this some sort of trick? A game, perhaps, from a meddler with no idea what memories they are trifling with?”

Ivan’s voice came from the center of the colosseum, and as Perle whipped her head back around, she could already feel the hairs on her neck standing up. That weight she’d sensed before was suddenly exponentially heavier.

“If someone is fucking about, playing a game or sowing seeds of manipulation, I would highly recommend you end it right here and now.”

He stood between Jayviz and Elya, back to the charging knight despite the man’s drawn blade. Jayviz may as well not even have been there, though; the entirety of Ivan’s attention was focused solely on Elya. His hands grasped into fists, and for a moment Perle feared for every member of the crowd, until they slowly released once more. That didn’t mean they were safe, however.

Only that Ivan wasn’t acting yet.

Lowering his blade, Jayviz approached Ivan. “I appreciate the dedication, but seconds stay on the side of the stage. If The Shatterfly wants to surrender—AHH!”

Jayviz’s speech was cut off as Ivan roughly grabbed the man and shoved him forward, putting the gleaming, reflective section of his breastplate directly in front of Elya. “Is this your face? Your real face, not some illusion or charm?”

For her part, Elya now appeared more confused than anything. “Ivan, what are you doi⁠—”

“Is. This. Your. Face?” With every word, Ivan pushed Jayviz a bit closer. His hands were visibly bending the armor inward, and Jayviz appeared momentarily stunned into silence, demonstrating a keen instinct for survival.

Seeming to accept the situation, Elya examined herself in the armor, taking care to check from every angle. “That’s me alright. Same as I’ve been for a long, long time.”

“Ever since your village was experimented on by evil wizards… leaving you as a survivor… forever changed.” Ivan swallowed a deep breath before quite literally tossing Jayviz over to the side of the stage where his seconds were watching, unsure if they should step in or not.

“Tend to your fellow knight, I may have been rougher than necessary. Heal him up and fix his armor before the duel resumes, we won’t complain. While you do that, I have some questions for the Shatterfly, in private.”

Herisep chose that moment to step forward, raising his hands in objection. “It isn’t customary for duels to have pauses, or competitors to leave⁠—”

Without warning, Ivan was standing before the man, his glowering gaze mere inches from Herisep’s widening eyes. “My questions will be answered satisfactorily, after which she’ll be returned. He’s welcome to duel what I bring back. Is there a problem with that?”

“No problem at all,” Jayviz called, finally piping up now that there was distance between him and Ivan. “If the Shatterfly owes a debt of answers, you are of course entitled to collect. So long as you allow us to finish our fight afterward.”

“You are free to hit whatever remains with whichever weapon you like. I make no more promises than that.” Ivan looked into the crowd, right at Perle, before his focus slid to the grinning man at her side. “Auro, get us somewhere we won’t be disturbed.”

Intrigued as he clearly was, even Auro seemed to grasp that this was not a time for his usual playful attitude. With a clap of his hands, a massive sphere of water appeared, encircling both him and Perle before bouncing forward, splashing into the middle of the stone stage where it swallowed up Elya and Ivan, then blasting up and over the colosseum’s walls entirely.

They bounded off several structures before finally arriving on a rooftop overlooking the colosseum. Although there were no exits from the building below onto the roof, Auro still raised his hands and fashioned the bubble of water into a glimmering barrier around them all. Everything beyond his barrier was obfuscated, and Perle quickly realized she could only faintly hear the sounds of the city rising up from below. Just enough sound to listen for an ambush.

“Privacy secured,” Auro reported at last, earning himself a nod from Ivan.

Those were the last words anyone spoke for some time, and the bubble around them drowning out ambient noise made the silence all the more pointed. The only sounds to ripple forth were clunks from Elya’s armor as she shifted in position, her wounds slowly mending.

“Do you want to live?”

Ivan’s words jarred everyone, though none more than Elya, who jerked her head like she’d been slapped. “I’ve made my resolution and peace⁠—”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Elya took a few moments longer composing her response. “My death will have meaning beyond the mere sum of my⁠—”

In one of those blinks he so loved, Ivan was kneeling next to Elya, expression twisted between anger and… guilt? No, Perle had to be reading that wrong. She wasn’t even sure Ivan had the capacity for that sort of emotion.

“Save the pretty words for someone who can appreciate them.” Ivan laid a gentle hand on Elya’s shoulder. “I understand what it is to be the one who survives. The burden of waking up, knowing there were so many others who could have, maybe should have been the ones to make it out. You wouldn’t be the first who found the weight too much to bear. That seems to be the ending destiny had you on track for, and if it’s what you want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

For the first time, Elya genuinely hesitated. “I… it doesn’t matter what I want.”

“That’s still not an answer.”

“Why? Why does it matter? Why bother asking? I’m not going to live. I’ve been marching toward the grave for most my life, so who gives a shit what I want? Those fucking wizards sure didn’t as they killed my friends and family! The gods clearly didn’t when I was begging anyone who would listen for help! It’s never mattered once what I want, so why the hell start blathering about it now?” Elya was panting by the end, thin trails of tears dribbling down out of her left eye, the right’s duct apparently no longer functioning.

Reaching down, Ivan slowly lifted her chin upward, until she was able to meet his eyes once more. “Do you want to live?”

“Of course I want to fucking live!” Elya screamed the words right into his face, and to Perle’s shock, Ivan responded with perhaps the last reaction she’d imagined.

He smiled. A big, wild, dangerous grin that worried Perle just as much as his serious tone from the colosseum.

“Auro, you said earlier it was possible my power could be used to stabilize Elya. What do you need to make that happen?”

7

Auro was quick to reply. “Privacy, time, and both of your consent. Working such a delicate magic will require reaching down deep, the sorts of place you’d never allow an intruder.”

“What happened to ‘some lines you won’t cross’?” Perle asked. She wasn’t exactly mad about Elya having a chance to survive, but Ivan had been fairly adamant earlier about it being a bad idea. “Do you have some way to mitigate that?”

“Not at all.” Ivan’s tone was calm, as if his words were reassuring. “But some debts are too big to ignore. Put simply, I don’t care if Elya uses this power to destroy your world or not. Her life is more important than the rest of your population combined.”

Perle was stunned into silence, unsure of what to say about such a bold declaration. She too was quite fond of Elya, more so than she might have realized until danger reared its head, but to weigh a single life against the fate of an entire world was a step beyond. The fact that it was Ivan demonstrating such levels of concern only elevated the mystery of it all.

Why would he possibly care about Elya so much, when only moments ago he’d been fine watching her die?

Luckily, Perle wasn’t the only one who wanted answers.

“For what reason?” Elya had regained some of her usual calm, but an undercurrent of raw emotion still ran thick in her voice. “You made your feelings clear, and the sentiment was sound. Why does my face change the matter so severely?”

Since he was still kneeling next to her, Ivan’s voice came out softer than usual, though Perle still heard the words just fine. “As I said, it is a debt.”

“We don’t know one another, Ivan, not beyond the last few weeks of travel. If you owe a debt, I cannot fathom how it would be to me.”

“The matter is… complicated.” Ivan leaned back, snapping from a kneel to a standing position in one quick motion. “I’ve seen your face before, in the world I hail from. Considering your situation as a whole, I’m starting to suspect our realms might possess more parallels than previously suspected.”

Elya shook her head. “People don’t risk the fate of entire worlds on casual acquaintances. You made it sound like this power was the equivalent of unleashing an apocalypse, yet now you offer it without hesitation. This is the curse that tormented me for the majority of my life, one that clearly connects us. I need to understand, Ivan. Why are you giving the power over so easily?”

“Because you have a right to it.”

Perle had been expecting Ivan to remain stoic, needing each bit of information to be dragged forth; instead he all but spit the words out, like he was afraid they’d cling to his tongue rather than be set free if given the chance. Though it had nothing on the statement that followed.

“In my world, the owner of your face was the first person I ever killed.”

Elya jerked, Perle felt her own jaw lower, and even Auro looked up from the table piled with supplies he’d magically summoned at some point during the dramatics. Each waited for Ivan to continue, and he didn’t disappoint.

“He was a friend, in a place where those were rare. At what I estimate to be age ten, we were pitted against one another in combat to the death. When we didn’t want to fight, our captors used torture. They burned us from afar with magical, unending flames until there was a victor, and a corpse. I was the victor.”

While a general ripple of shock ran through the group, Perle felt something more shifting in her stomach. It was perhaps the last emotion she’d been expecting, but the priestess found herself suddenly overwhelmed by a large wave of guilt.

All this time, she’d thought of Ivan as a living monster, no different than Auro save for his shape and capabilities. But… Ivan wasn’t a giant magical serpent, who had every reason to behave like a wild animal because he was one. He was, at least on a fundamental level, human. Yet Perle had never taken a moment to ask herself what could possibly shape a person into… him. Someone who could kill without a thought, for whom death flowed like breath.

The fact that he’d been tortured and forced to kill a friend at the age of ten would certainly account for some of those tendencies, however. And given the environment he was describing, Perle didn’t imagine that was the end of the trauma. If anything, she feared it was nothing but the tip of the spear. Ivan was her champion, a man she’d dragged into her fight; Perle owed him better than to think of the man as a heartless beast. No matter how often he tried to seem like one.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Elya said at last. She was, perhaps, the only one who could have answered. While Perle was present and Auro would be helping, this discussion was plainly between Ivan and Elya. “But I don’t know that it means you have to lend me your power.”

“Every version of me owes at least this to every version of you.” Ivan smiled once more, and though it wasn’t the savage grin of earlier, the gesture still left Perle unsettled. “Besides, if you got yourself killed, Perle would be very put out by my following rampage.”

He said it lightheartedly, as if it were a joke. Perle didn’t believe that for one moment.

Elya, meanwhile, was starting to run low on questions. The longer they talked, the more real their whole situation became, including the idea of actually being stabilized. For someone who’d spent so long staring down the inevitability of their own early demise, it had to be a world-shattering level of revelation.

But some worlds were meant to be shattered. Perle only hoped hers wouldn’t turn out to be one of them.

“Can you… is this really possible?”

It was Auro who answered Elya this time, piping up from his table of now mostly processed supplies. There were all manner of chopped herbs and glowing crystals, none of which Auro had been hauling around moments prior, but the largest change was a magical circle he’d inscribed onto their floor, which was the building’s roof. Considering how short the conversation had been, Auro had evidently been working at mind-boggling speeds.

“Possible indeed! I know better than to make empty promises around a man like Ivan. That said, it won’t be easy by any measure. The nature of your shared magic is inherently destructive, which means mine will deteriorate the moment they begin to interact. I should be able to power through, but I warn you, I’ll be largely spent for the next few days, magically speaking.”

Ivan nodded. “Don’t worry. For a favor like this, I’ll hunt down your missing heart pieces and slaughter every rival god in your way as repayment.”

Watching the scene carefully, Perle was surprised to see a flicker of uncertainty flash across Auro’s face. After a few moments, he waved his hand dismissively. “I appreciate the sentiment greatly, but it’s in poor taste to tally favors among friends.”

That seemed to snare Ivan’s attention, his head turning toward the serpent with an aching lethargy. “You’d take friendship over divinity?”

“I can make it to godhood on my own. Friends don’t come nearly so easily.” Auro’s gaze darted to Elya, still on the ground, processing the sudden swings of her fate. “And you seem a good friend to have.”

“I don’t know about that, but… this is among the most important undertakings of my entire life. For one who made it possible, I would be happy to call them a friend.”

Motioning to the circle under his feet, Auro stamped twice. “Well then, let’s get moving! Jayviz isn’t going to need all night for a quick healing spell and some mending on his armor.”

Somehow, Perle had entirely forgotten that this was merely a reprieve from the duel. The idea that after all of this, Elya might still end up dead was truly mind-numbing; her brain couldn’t withstand another sudden shock, even a hypothetical one. Though given what Ivan had said, even if Jayviz did win, he wouldn’t live long enough to savor victory. But that would be little comfort to Elya’s corpse.

Ivan strode over into the circle without hesitation, while Elya shifted more slowly. Moving before she’d consciously made the choice, Perle found herself standing before the knight, offering a hand to aid her rising. Elya accepted, her cold gauntlet pressing into Perle’s palm. Hauling her up was no easy feat thanks to the armor’s heft, but Perle was stronger than she’d been when the journey started.

“May I seek a priestess’s counsel?” Although there was a slight grin on her lips, Elya’s tone betrayed the seriousness of her sentiment.

Perle answered almost automatically; this was one of the many duties she’d performed throughout the years. “Of course. Speak, and be heard.” The Order of the Lost Moon did not condone false promises. She could not be certain there was guidance to offer, or peace of mind to be discovered. But she could promise to listen, to truly hear the plight of the one before her.

“Is this… do you think this is right?” Elya’s free hand ran along her face, the armored fingers tracing various patches of skin.

“I’d accepted my fate. Found purpose in my short life. Made peace. If I receive his power, will I become like Ivan? Mighty as he is, the man is no knight. My honor is all I’ve had, all that has bolstered me through the years and allowed me to push so far. Am I casting it aside too easily for this chance at life?”

That was a hard question, and matters weren’t helped by Perle’s attention persistently flitting to the fact that she was still clutching Elya’s gauntlet, even though the knight was now standing. But Perle did have one insight to share, even if it was recently acquired.

“I’m fairly certain the power is not what makes Ivan the way he is. It sounds as if his past may have had the larger role in shaping his attitude towards strength, just like yours. For what it’s worth, I don’t think choosing to live is betraying your honor. Just imagine how many people you could help if you were half as powerful as Ivan.”

“Imagine how many I could hurt,” Elya countered.

“Any of us can choose cruelty at any time, we don’t need impossible might for that. You’ve used the strength you had to help those in need. If anyone deserves to be trusted with more, I’d say you’re an excellent candidate.” Perle squeezed the gauntlet, even though she knew Elya wouldn’t be able to feel it. “Besides… speaking selfishly, I don’t want you to die.”

“Given that Ivan has made it clear he’ll burn at least Omotane to the ground if anything happens to you, one could argue this is the most honorable option possible.” That addition was called out by Auro, a not-so-subtle reminder that they weren’t alone on the rooftop.

He did get Elya to chuckle, though, and with that laugh, the remainder of her hesitation faded away. “Maybe it’s desperation or self-delusion, but I want to believe you’re right.”

“Then go prove that we are.” Perle squeezed the gauntlet one last time, wondering which of them she was really trying to comfort, before Elya walked over to Auro and Ivan. The moment she arrived, Auro began to fuss over both, positioning them just so inside the newly-formed circle.

Rather than offer either of them any of the herbs or crystals, Auro began shoving everything into his own mouth at breakneck speeds. “Tha hawdest pawt is⁠—”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Ivan instructed.

Finishing his massive mound of materials, Auro swallowed a lump so big Perle could watch it slide down his throat and into his stomach, before he tried again. “The hardest part is making sure my own magic will endure long enough to see the process done. Pay close attention, Ivan. If you ever want to do this on your own, now is the time to learn.”

Ivan shook his head. “I won’t need it again.”

“You never expected to need it this time,” Auro reminded him. “What if you meet another Elya in a different world?”

Although Ivan being silent wasn’t new, Ivan lacking any response was more unusual. It appeared as though Auro’s point had cowed any other objections the man might have. Seeing that the matter was settled, Auro walked into the circle as well, sitting down between the knight and Perle’s champion.

Delicately, he reached out and took hold of Ivan’s hand, then Elya’s, before giving Perle a wink. “See you on the other side.”

Holding her breath, Perle began to utilize a skill that every priestess knew well, one she had been a bit lacking in of late, were she being honest.

Perle prayed.

The crowd was growing restless. After the excitement of watching one of the onlookers suddenly appear on stage and utterly dominate both competitors before dragging one away, everyone was curious about how the fight would conclude. But only Jayviz had returned, his body healed and his armor mostly fixed, though there were still some finger indentations along the edges.

Whispers worked their way through the audience, wondering if perhaps… perhaps the Shatterfly had fled. It was unthinkable for a member of their order to run. More likely, the stranger had simply killed her outright, yet the question would always linger in the minds of those present, tainting the image of the Shatterfly.

Until they all heard a familiar clanking.

Elya appeared, looking largely unchanged save for a new helm resting atop her armor. It was shinier than the last, with an oddly persistent snake theme – etchings of them coiled along the metal – but otherwise, she seemed unchanged. Jayviz grinned wide at the sight; no doubt some part of him had feared the duel would end unsatisfactorily. Even if it wasn’t his fault, that would still be his match people walked away from with a sour sentiment.

“Elya of The Order of The Shatterfly has returned from the unexpected intermission!” Herisep was back in top form, even if he did seem to be a bit more… skittish, than before.

Wasting no time, Elya hopped onto the stone stage across from Jayviz, who had his enchanted sword drawn once more. “You actually came back.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Elya called loudly, her voice echoing up into the crowd. “This is my victory to seize, after all.”

But Jayviz couldn’t reply; he was already charging. The crowd roared their approval, cutting off an objection from Herisep about not having announced the restart yet. It wasn’t like Elya didn’t have time to react while Jayviz was crossing the whole stage to reach her. Besides, every competent announcer knew better than to fight the will of the audience.

“Our rematch has begun! Jayviz opens with an elegant charge, can Elya respond?”

Jayviz’s blade became a blur as he demonstrated new levels of swordsmanship. In contrast to the first bout, which had focused on him showing off, this was clearly an effort to end the match. Things had drawn on long enough, and with an army of monsters approaching, there were certainly other tasks to handle.

Elya raised a hand to block, opening her palm as if to knock the weapon away. Just as before, his sword easily sliced through the modest enchantments on her armor, carving through the thin layer above her palm… before suddenly slamming to a halt. Reacting instantly, Elya’s fingers snapped shut, snaring the top of his blade in her grasp.

Jayviz quickly yanked his blade back. Or tried to, anyway. It was like his sword had gotten wedged into solid rock; no matter how he tugged or pulled, Elya’s grip was unwavering. A new sound reached Jayviz’s ears, the tinkle of amusement not cloaked in admiration.

Laughter. The crowd was laughing at him.

Bracing his feet against the ground, Jayviz drew on every ounce of his strength and gave a mighty pull… only for Elya to release the blade. He was sent sprawling backwards, crashing onto his rear and bouncing once before coming to a rest. The small titters of laughter rose in volume by several degrees, and Jayviz felt hatred rise in his throat like bile.

Dragging himself back up, he lifted his sword halfway to a ready position before realizing it hadn’t left the exchange unscathed. The top section of his sword had been squeezed like it was nothing more than silver clay, the previous sharp tip replaced by a mass of warped metal. That would be ridiculous enough against a normal sword, and Jayviz’s had multiple enchantments for durability woven in.

“Your strength is far greater than before,” Jayviz called out, throwing his voice to the audience. “Enough that I wonder if it really is the knight of The Shatterfly under that new helm.”

Reaching up, Elya popped the helm free, setting it down at her feet and drawing a gasp from the crowd. Gone was the patchwork assemblage of malformed flesh, every inch of skin was hale and healthy. Yet it was still indeed the same face that had been present the last time her helm was removed.

“You were… healed?” Jayviz was utterly stumped by the sight before him; weren’t the curses of Shatterflys supposed to be unbreakable?

“As were you,” Elya reminded him. “Are you going to object that I was mended too well to be defeated?”

That earned another round of laughter from the audience, who seemed to sense the changing of the winds. It would be a preposterous claim to begin with; healing magic didn’t make people stronger. At most, it meant Elya had started the last match with an injury that was now mended. Besides which, this was Omotane, the city that loved its combat.

No one would care what excuses he offered up. Either he won, or he lost. That was all they would see, all that would matter.

Activating several heavily taxing enchantments on his armor, Jayviz shot forward at incredible speeds. Playing around had led him into this position, it was time to do what he should have at the start: secure a quick, clean victory. In a blink, he was standing before Elya, slashing downward so she’d be hit by the middle portion of his blade. With Jayviz moving this fast, she’d have no time to react, and the additional force should help him chop deep into her torso.

Except the blade suddenly halted a handspan from making contact, because Elya was holding Jayviz’s elbow, arresting his attack entirely. He had just enough time to wonder how she’d managed to withstand such force before a dark gauntlet smashed into his own helm.

Nearly a dozen protective measures all activated and failed in a single instant, the shield that had defended him so well first among them. Suddenly Jayviz was racing through the air before crashing in a heap. The magic of his armor had saved his life; however, his jaw was shattered, his back was aching, and at least two of his limbs had been broken during the rough landing.

Gurgling out the words along with a few bloody spit bubbles, Jayviz managed one simple phrase that he hoped would be enough to save his life.

“I… yield.”

8

The crowd roared their approval, standing up and shouting. The fact that Jayviz had been a town favorite was forgotten at the chance to celebrate an underdog’s triumph. And what a win it was, at that.

Were it not for the magic of the arena, Perle feared the crowd would rush the stage. Thankfully, only those as powerful as Ivan could hop from their seats to the combat stage, everyone else would end up pushed back. Not that she and the others lingered in their seats long. Ivan took a careful grip on Perle’s arm, leading her rapidly through the building, before they arrived at a small exit tunnel where Elya was already waiting.

“Congratulations!” Perle raced forward, throwing her arms around the knight and squeezing tightly… out of thanks she was still alive, of course.

“Thank you. I… That was not the bout I expected.” Elya’s right hand clenched into a fist, the metal of her gauntlet letting out a pained groan from the stress. “This is only a fraction of your power?”

“As much as your body could successfully stabilize,” Auro helpfully supplied, as he was the one who actually understood the magic that had been worked. “You might naturally incorporate more over time, but I wouldn’t expect to rival Ivan anytime soon.”

Perle suppressed a shudder at the idea, while Elya let hers run loose, the shiver shaking her beneath the armor. Thanks to still being mid-embrace, Perle felt the slight shake, tightening her hug for a brief moment before letting go. “That is likely for the best. I’m not sure any world could withstand two Ivans.”

The man in question paid little attention to their banter, walking slowly up to Elya, examining her anew with every step. “You’re sure you feel alright? That didn’t tear any muscles or fracture any bones?”

In response, Elya clanged the breastplate of her armor. “Hale and hearty. It felt like fighting normally, just, well, better. Like I could finally move my body properly.”

Ivan let out a slow breath that Perle hadn’t even noticed he was holding before reaching out and clapping Auro on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, for one of my talent and grandeur it was a minor matter of⁠—”

“I know it hurt,” Ivan interrupted. “My power always hurts. Yet not only did you never utter a word of complaint, not even suggest the idea of ceasing. You managed to push through and helped save someone I… Thank you, Auro. My friend.”

For once, the snake’s sly tongue shed its finery and offered a simple response. “You’re welcome.”

The unexpectedly emotional moment was soon interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Several of them, in fact. A trio of men in armor similar to Jayviz’s, albeit less elegant, turned around the corner and slowed their approach, only the man at the forefront coming closer.

“Congratulations on your victory,” the man greeted, pressing his fist over his heart and bowing slightly to Elya, a motion she quickly mirrored. “Jayviz informed the order of his wager before your bout, and while we have every intention of supplying the offered aid, it is my unfortunate duty to beg for patience in the matter. As you no doubt are aware, Omotane is soon to be under siege by a monstrous army, and that matter must be sorted before any major resources can be given away.”

Much as Perle wanted to be mad or accuse the knights of trying to wriggle out from paying their end, she too had seen the surrounding areas covered in enemy hordes. This was no overblown danger being touted as an easy excuse. Even now, Perle could see the stress in the man’s face, terror over what fate awaited his town taking its toll.

“Delays are unacceptable. I have no intention of letting this whole ordeal take longer than necessary.” Ivan’s tone had no compassion or understanding in it, causing the knight who’d spoken to wince. “But our priestess will never consent to abandoning Omotane entirely in its hour of need, so the solution is simple: take us to this sage of yours. We can offer aid to free up resources, claim those resources for ourselves, and be back on the road.”

Although the knight’s expression had turned briefly hopeful, by the end of Ivan’s offer he was shaking his head. “With apologies, Balipher the Sage is a man with many demands upon his time. He cannot simply take unexpected meetings from strangers.”

“Unless my eyes were playing quite a dirty trick earlier, Balipher is a man with an army surrounding his city and a fraction of their forces under his command. Tell him what happened today. Tell him of my confidence. Tell him we’re the ones who freed Ravidon. Either he’ll take the meeting, or he was too stupid to be of any real help after all.”

For a flash, Perle caught actual anger in the knight’s eyes at Ivan’s slight, but the man held his tongue, merely nodding stiffly. It was a dangerous line to tread, insulting a sage in his own domain, to his people no less. Yet Ivan hadn’t actually called him stupid, though it was closer than she felt necessary.

“I will relay the message.” With that, the knight turned on his heel and headed back down the hall.

Ivan watched the man go, eyes staying on the turn they left down for several minutes after, until he finally looked to the rest of the group. “I don’t expect that will resolve until tomorrow, which is just as well. Tonight, we have some celebrating to do.”

Elya took a sharp breath, a gleam shining in her now vibrant eyes. “Glad as I am for my health, being cured also seems to have fixed my tongue, which means I can actually taste the food I’m given again. So much of what you’ve all cooked on our journey had smelled delectable.”

“Between your new health and my tremendous winnings after your unexpected victory, we have much to celebrate and the means to do it!” Auro tossed an arm around both Elya and Perle, wedging himself in the middle. “Let’s go eat our way across Omotane!”

Perle was mostly sure Auro meant the city’s restaurants, but she resolved to keep a close eye on him, just in case.

The next morning found Perle’s party still a bit overly stuffed, but otherwise in good spirits. Ignoring the army of monsters knocking on Omotane’s doors, things were looking up. Not only had Elya rebuffed any attempts at removing her from the group and grown stronger in the process, they would soon be receiving a sage’s support.

While more comfortable traveling supplies would be welcomed, the true benefit was access to useful information. Ivan was an incredible resource, but if he wasn’t deployed where that might was most needed, not even his power could turn the tide of an entire war. The only reason Perle had known about Ravidon’s occupation was her personal connection to it. Outside of her own region, she had little idea how the demon armies were faring, or where their ire was directed.

Five soldiers were waiting outside the inn when she and the others emerged – whether meant as a show of force or intimidation was anyone’s guess. Not that the latter was in any way effective. Traveling with her companions was slowly eroding Perle’s sense of normalcy, yet the fact remained that none of the guards present could threaten a single member of the party aside from herself, and even that vulnerability was steadily shrinking.

Although it would be some time before Perle fashioned herself as a proper warrior, she was hardly helpless anymore, especially with Fesver’s sword in easy reach.

Through the streets of Omotane they marched, earning stares from all manner of locals. If Elya’s performance the day prior didn’t draw their attention, the quintet of guards in gold-trimmed armor leading them along the roads certainly did. Clothes went tumbling from arms rather than being hung on the line as people pointed and hollered for others in their home to come and see.

Perle found the whole experience was… strange, more than anything. Clergy were meant to do their deeds with a humble heart, acting as vessels for the greater forces of the cosmos, and her time since summoning Ivan had not been filled with cheering or accolades. Yet she pulled her spine straight and tried to smile as the stares grew in number, projecting all the confidence she could muster.

At their cores, the people of Omotane were scared. How could they not be, with an army marching steadily forward, covering the land like a dark shadow? Seeing something unusual, especially with a mighty warrior involved, couldn’t help but stir the fires of hope in their hearts.

That was why Perle did her best to stoke those fledgling embers of belief, because the truth of the matter was that things weren’t as hopeless as they might appear. While it would be preposterous to ask even Ivan to turn back an entire army alone, power like his could absolutely make a difference. With Balipher’s resources and Ivan’s might, surely there had to be a way to leave Omotane in a safer position before they continued on their journey.

Perle was so caught up in the process of travel that she barely even noticed when they crossed one of the bridges denoting that they were entering a sage’s territory. But the shift was stark and evident; everything from the style of the buildings to the quality of the roads took a sharp turn upward. Several people walking past were carrying items that radiated magical energy, indicating they were enchanted.

Such tools were rarely encountered in the outside world. For regular people to have them… but these weren’t regular people, of course. These people either served the sage or were connected to others who did. The families of soldiers and experts were invited into these protected areas, keeping them safe and healthy so those who served the sage could focus on their tasks.

Still, seeing enchanted items carried so freely drove home instantly just how different life was on one side of the bridge versus the other.

Again, they were the center of attention, yet now the stares and whispers held a sharper tone. Unlike the masses of Omotane, those here wouldn’t be so enthralled to see someone who’d beaten one of their soldiers, especially one as high-ranking as Jayviz. Elya gave no indication whatsoever that she noticed their stares, and so Perle tried to replicate her attitude as best as possible.

To the credit of their escorts, they never slowed or faltered, maintaining the same steady pace regardless of their surroundings. On across the clean, well-maintained roads they walked, crowds parting easily before them. Steadily they marched close to the gleaming gold-trimmed tower standing in the center of the domain.

It was only as they drew closer to the door that their guards slowed, two taking posts outside the left of the door, two on the right, and the fifth in the middle, blocking their way. “Out of respect for your victory in the colosseum, and your triumph in Ravidon, Balipher the Sage has agreed to spare some of his incredibly valuable time, in the hopes you have help to offer Omotane. Do not waste his time. Do not speak needlessly. Do not spout falsehoods. Never forget that every second he wastes upon your visit is time that could be spent helping our city in its hour of need.”

That last line made it clear how the guard felt about his duty – not that it mattered to the group as Ivan shouldered past the man without so much as slowing, like he wasn’t even there. Auro was a tad bit more subtle, slipping around the guard even as he pressed close enough to bite his throat. Elya took an opposite approach, offering a hand to steady the now off-balance guard, a gesture that he pointedly refused, going so far as to yank his arm away from her.

Perle marched past the man without a glance, not trusting her tongue to stay silent after that display of rudeness. It was a good thing the sage was known for being so wise, because his employees were lacking in both tact and wiles.

The four of them found a staircase waiting, along with more guards. Seven were waiting just within the tower, to the side of the stairs, a deadly surprise for any who attempted to break in. Ivan was already climbing, so Perle hurried to catch up, taking the first few stairs two at a time. After roughly one hundred steps, they reached the second floor where ten more guards were armed and waiting.

None moved as the group crossed, though Perle was tensed and waiting the entire time. Every guard was staring directly at them, hands resting on their weapons, waiting for the slightest show of aggression. While Perle had no doubt her team could have fought through such an impediment, most attackers would surely be torn apart by the second wave of defenders.

It was good to know Balipher took safety seriously, Perle just wished the guards didn’t feel so… ready for battle. Like they were a tad disappointed as the group walked by without incident. Though if they got a taste of fighting this group, Perle had faith their stances would change in their brief final moments of life.

Another hundred steps after the second group of guards, they reached the third floor, this time with thirteen guards blocking the way. As they crossed the floor, Perle tried to take in more than the set jaws and shining armor. She noted the array of doors leading to other sections of the tower, some of which had to be barracks with so many soldiers on standby. Of them all, only one was open, showing a large room filled with smoked meats on platters, some sort of mess hall most likely.

Again, they passed without incident under withering stares and once more started ascending a staircase numbering roughly one hundred steps. This time when they reached the top, however, it was not another open area awaiting them.

Instead, ten guards waited outside a set of golden doors. Each one wore armor as decorated as Jayviz’s, if not better. From just the way they held their bodies, Perle could tell these were a cut above. They were looking upon Balipher’s more elite troops, a final wall of defense should an invader make it past on the perils thus far.

None moved to stop them; in fact, it was quite the opposite. One of the guards near the center laid his hand upon the door and then rapped once. “The Sage awaits.”

Silently, the doors swung open, revealing what was easily the most gorgeous library Perle had ever borne witness to. Polished wooden bookcases supported hundreds of tomes, all bound in crisp leather, shining silver, gleaming jewels, and materials Perle had no frame of reference for. Even Auro let out a whistle as his eyes traveled upward, spiraling along the multitudes of shelves surrounding an enormous floating chandelier.

While Balipher himself was not present, there was an open doorway to the left and sounds of movement coming through it. Perle took the lead this time, wanting to make their first impression. Given Elya’s role in trashing one of Balipher’s troops, it would be somewhat awkward to have her speak, Ivan was as blunt as he was strong, and Auro… honestly, Auro might be the best conversationalist of them all, and would certainly be given the role of diplomat… if he could be trusted to stay on task. But Auro was prone to indulging his own whims far too frequently to trust with such a delicate approach.

Stepping past the library, they entered a modest kitchen – modest save for the fact that every tool present was heavily enchanted. Perle couldn’t tell what they all did, but each was notably powerful: from the magic coursing through a simple knife to the power contained within an ever-roaring hearth, this was a reminder of what made sages so powerful. It was not their standing or wealth; those were mere byproducts. No, sages were so-called because of their incredible mastery over the field of magic.

To Balipher, this kitchen no doubt represented a collection of modest enchantments he’d fiddled with when bored. To most, it would be a hall of wonders, glimpsing a power they would never hold for themselves.

Past the kitchen was a cozy study with many oversized plush chairs, then what appeared to be a sunroom with windows looking over much of Omotane, before the sounds of movement finally grew louder. Perle stepped into what she could only assume to be some sort of laboratory, similar to what alchemists used.

Bubbling beakers and racks of vials could be seen in just about every color imaginable. The sharp smell of what Perle recognized as a cleaning potion stung her nostrils, momentarily transporting her back to the halls of her order. As a low-ranking priest, Perle and the others of her stations were often given undesirable tasks like cleaning, and when a particularly stubborn stain appeared, sometimes a potion was the answer. Only for stone or similar materials, though. Perle had seen a poorly handled bottle splash and eat right through the sleeve of a young priest’s robe.

For one heartbeat, she wondered about that fellow and how he was doing, before realizing he was all but certainly dead, murdered along with so many from The Order of the Lost Moon. Dead and gone before they’d even realized they were at war.

That helped bring her back to the moment. Perle scoured the room, quickly locating the man they’d climbed all this way for. His robes were golden and heavily enchanted, however Balipher himself was quite normal looking. From his genial smile to the soft layer of white fuzz that made up his hair, the vaunted sage could have been a kindly grandfather walking the street, were it not for his trappings and surroundings.

“Ah, I see my guests have finally arrived,” Balipher chuckled, looking up from a notebook where he’d been scratching a note. “Forgive the late greeting please, I never know how long it will take people to climb those stairs.”

Feeling a poke at her back, Perle realized she’d never cleared the doorway. She stepped forward, allowing Elya to weave through. “It was quite a journey; one we are honored to take for this opportunity.”

Elya quickly shuffled to the side, making way for Auro, who hustled away so that Ivan could enter the room.

“Please now, let’s not waste time on honorifics and grandstanding,” Balipher replied. “It seems we’ll be working together for the near future, so let us treat one another as peers. Despite how you arrived, I’m quite glad fate brought⁠—”

There was no warning, no indication of what was to come, no hint of motion.

One second, Perle was talking to Balipher the Sage, and the next, his blood and brain matter were sliding down the white stone wall. Resting where his head had been an instant prior was Ivan’s fist, a few pulpy remains still clinging to his knuckles.

“I knew it. I knew those fucking sigils weren’t a coincidence.” Sucking in a deep breath, Ivan lowered his hand, which Perle realized belated was actually shaking slightly. Was Ivan… trembling?

“Auro, there’s a hidden door here somewhere. Find it, please. Elya, get ready to fight if the guards come rushing in, we’ll need to… well, it depends on what’s down there. Perle, take this time to make a decision. I’m sure right now you think I’ve gone entirely mad, but the truth is I just did more good for your world than you can ever fathom.”

It was, by Perle’s estimations, the most words Ivan had ever strung together in a single go. Yet he wasn’t done quite yet, turning around at last and meeting her gaze with his own. Except his eyes were no longer just eyes. Black voids stared back at Perle, lit only by runes burning hell-red in their center.

“When Auro finds the door, you’ll choose whether to follow us down or not. If you do, you’ll understand why Balipher had to die, however I’m not sure you’ll ever look at the rest of humanity the same again.”

Perle couldn’t even nod; she was too overcome in that moment. The shock of seeing Balipher die, the hints that there was something more afoot, even her fear of how they’d escape with so many guards blocking the exit, all of it fell away in the face of one simple yet entirely undeniable question.

Why did Ivan have a World Demon’s eyes?

9

It took Auro only a handful of moments to locate the hidden door, sniffing around the room until his sharp nails dug straight into a hidden seam, ripping the entrance open rather than bother hunting for a switch. Behind the white wall was a dimly-lit stairwell leading back down, very nearly drawing a groan from Perle. Aside from the fact that traversing more stairs sounded exhausting, she wasn’t quite sure what Ivan being right signified.

Balipher was… had been a sage, one of the most brilliant workers of magic among all of humanity. That he would have some hidden experiments made sense, for safety if not security. Yet the way Ivan reacted left Perle befuddled. As violent as Ivan was, he was also shockingly steady. While he’d end a life without a second thought, rarely was there any malice in the act. Most often it was simply a task he considered necessary.

But killing Balipher was different. His hands still shook occasionally, and while his eyes were normal once more, Perle could never forget such a sight. World Demons were myths from ancient times, when opening walkways between other worlds was supposedly more commonplace. In fact, many legends said it was the appearance of one such entity that had caused nearly all knowledge of other realms to be purged from the lands. The tome Perle used to summon Ivan had been a rare treasure, one she never would have been allowed to handle under normal circumstances.

“That smell…” Elya’s voice was unsettled, and she took a slow step forward.

“Despair, among many other things.” Ivan sucked in a breath through pursued lips, like he was trying to draw out the process, before releasing it in one go. “Only I need to venture forth from here. What lies below is a hell most cannot imagine. If there is anyone left to save, I will retrieve them. If there is suffering, I will end it.”

The crumple of metal betrayed Elya’s fist tightening as she glared at Balipher’s headless body. “I know that scent. Was it him? Was he the one who did this me, who slaughtered my village?”

Ivan hesitated. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. There were seven overseers of my hell. Seven of the highest-ranking members of a magical cult dedicated to bringing about the end of the world. Just as your world apparently has seven sages.”

Without warning, Perle found herself on the ground, the strength having suddenly left her legs. What Ivan was suggesting was preposterous; the sages were the greatest assets of humankind. Their wisdom and knowledge had aided in all manner of enchanting developments and general discoveries. The idea that they would be secretly perpetrating horrendous experiments on innocent people in the shadows… it just couldn’t be true.

But that stairwell leading down hooked her eyes and refused to let them go, a visible barb of uncertainty in her conviction.

“Strange. Given the scuttlebutt I was able to pick up with some enhanced eavesdropping, the armies of demons have been targeting sages.” Auro noted a surprised glance from Elya, so much more expressive without her helm on constantly, and offered up a shrug. “What? You had your whole duel fiasco, and I wanted to stay busy too.”

Elya’s eyebrows rose. “The demons have been hunting the sages?”

“Doesn’t seem like people want to acknowledge it, but two are already dead – well, three now – and the others have been either moving around or fortifying their bases. There’s a fair chance that huge army outside Omotane is really just here for this guy.” Auro kicked Balipher’s body, as if there was any question who he might mean.

Had Perle not already been on the ground, she doubtlessly would have tumbled there at that revelation. Two of the sages were already dead? How was this not more widely known, and just what sorts of sources had Auro been eavesdropping on to learn such a thing if it really was secret?

There wasn’t a chance to ask, even had Perle found her voice, because Ivan was already moving toward the stairwell. “Anyone who stays, make sure you don’t follow, no matter what you hear. Anyone who goes… best of luck, I suppose.”

With that, Ivan was treading down the dark steps, leaving them each to decide for themselves what came next. Elya was the first, planting herself by the doors to Balipher’s laboratory. “I’ve seen enough of such places to sate multiple lifetimes of curiosity. Ivan asked me to watch for guards, and I’ll happily take such a role.”

Auro was next, his choice entirely unsurprising as he sauntered to the stairs and hurried down them. That only left Perle, still seated on the surprisingly comfortable stone floor. She was fairly sure Balipher had warming enchantments woven in, most likely for the comfort of his feet. It was hard to imagine such a man committing the sorts of sins Ivan indicated.

More than that, Perle didn’t want to imagine it. The sages were sources of hope and inspiration, figures she’d admired and strived to emulate. A secret door didn’t inherently negate any of that. For all she knew, there was nothing down there but junk storage and scrolls of adoration from fans.

Picking herself up, Perle looked over to Elya, who was resolutely staring at the room’s proper entrance. Someone had undeniably killed the vast majority of her town and left Elya forever altered, someone who most likely would have needed a solid foundation of magical knowledge. Still, there were mages beyond the sages, plenty ruthlessly chasing power wherever it could be found.

But she would always wonder.

This was a chance to clear Balipher’s name, if nothing else. Whatever Ivan expected to find, he wasn’t omnipotent or infallible, just strong beyond reason. Perle set her resolve and strode forward, nearly to the stairwell when an unbidden thought flashed through her mind.

What was she going to do if Ivan was right? What was her coping plan if Balipher turned out to be every bit the monster Ivan believed?

Again, Perle’s eyes drifted to Elya before shifting the dead body dripping blood onto the stone floors. If he really was the source of Elya’s suffering, the man who’d slaughtered all she loved and torn even her future away, then Balipher had gotten off too easy.

Perle was surprised at the ferocity of her own reaction, assuring herself that bonds forged in the fires of conflict were naturally tenacious. She looked away from Elya, facing the stairwell instead and steeling her nerve.

With no more delays, Perle descended the stairs one at a time, cognizant of Ivan’s and Auro’s steps ahead. What she expected to be a short trip down a few levels stretched onward, longer and longer, as Perle began to wonder if they were walking all the way back down the whole damn tower.

As it turned out, they were going even farther than that.

Three hundred stairs down, where their journey had begun, and the steps kept descending. Onward Perle went for another hundred stairs until she arrived at the bottom, where Auro and Ivan had already stepped forward into the chamber beyond.

Having taken the time down to prepare herself for just about any sight she could imagine, Perle strode into Balipher’s hidden workshop and cast her eyes about, seeing what had been tucked away from prying eyes.

It took roughly three seconds before she was kneeling on the floor, vomit and tears both flooding freely from her face.

Perle had believed she was ready, but how… how could she have anticipated this? She’d thought the demons were cruel, yet the deaths they offered were swift mercies by comparison. The flesh she saw stretched, warped, and bespelled spoke to horrendous, painful ends, what remained of their faces locked in horrendous screams. And that was only what she’d glimpsed before her stomach gave out.

She didn’t even have context to imagine this kind of wickedness, let alone see it. The stink of rotting flesh choked her throat, along with a sharp acidic sting that coated the air. How many bodies were down here? How many had passed through? It was hard to gauge by the half-dissected remains what had been a full person and what was only leftover scrap.

A gentle hand on her back helped slow the pounding of Perle’s heart, and the rapid breaths she’d been drawing in slowly started to even out. After a few more moments to gather herself, Perle lifted her head, expecting to see Auro’s chuckling visage comforting her.

Instead, she found Ivan, still softly patting her between the shoulder blades.

“I… I don’t… I can’t understand. What is this place?”

Of all the things Perle expected Ivan to reply with, perhaps the last thing she anticipated was an actual answer. How could anything like this have a purpose beyond suffering?

“Beyond this realm is a power that runs between the worlds. Where it springs from, I’ve yet to learn, but it is nigh-incomparable. Even though its very nature is destruction, there will always be those who believe they can harness such power toward their own means. In my world, the cult sought to bring about the end of their world through the creation of an avatar for such power. I won’t pretend to know the goals of your sages, but they are clearly chasing a means to channel this power as well. Though based on the recency of these remains, unsuccessfully. Even the semi-stable ones like Elya would share her limited lifespan.”

An avatar for the power of destruction itself, forged by a cult that worshipped a force beyond their realm. Dimly, somewhere in her more rational mind, Perle realized Ivan was talking about himself. Just like Elya, he’d lived in a place similar to this one, a hidden hell beneath the earth where untold travesties were daily occurrences.

It was no wonder he’d killed Balipher on sight. Perle felt an unusual surge of hate flood through her, along with a keen desire to put Fesver’s sword to use on the man, all from seeing the mere aftereffects of his work. To have lived through this? To watch others suffer such endings and somehow escape? Ivan’s hatred must burn as bright as the very sun in the sky.

“No survivors,” Auro called. Whether that was tragic or a mercy, Perle couldn’t say. Given the state of what she could see, probably best no one had been caught in that sort of suffering for long.

“We caught him between batches then,” Ivan surmised. “He most likely planned to restock his test subjects using the chaos of the impending battle.”

Perle wanted to ask how Ivan could stay calm, only she’d seen up in the tower that no matter how stoic he might act, Ivan was very much affected by all this. He was simply remaining focused on the task at hand, regardless of gruesome it might be.

“These avatars of destruction… do they all possess your eyes? The eyes of a World Demon?”

The question tumbled out more than was purposefully formed, yet it still snapped Ivan’s head back toward her like he’d heard a branch snap behind him on a quiet moonlit stroll. “You’ve seen my eyes before?”

“Never, but there are legends. Tales from older eras where demons were more common, when one with your eyes nearly brought our world to the brink of annihilation.”

Although one of Ivan’s hands still rested on Perle’s back, his other drummed its fingers against the floor. “If another with my power came to this world before, that might explain where these sages got the idea to chase the source of our might. It may have even provided the materials or impetus that started these experiments.”

The sages were… trying to make a World Demon? Just this morning, Perle would have assumed Ivan was setting up for some silly joke, the words seeming utterly insensible. But surrounded by the evidence of Balipher’s wrongdoing, such a concept was no longer even fleetingly funny.

“Perle, when we first met, you said the demons were acting different than usual. More numerous and coordinated, correct?”

The conversational shift was so sharp Perle could barely do more than nod her head, wondering how such a topic could possibly relate to the horror around them.

“And Auro, how certain are you that the demons are hunting sages?”

“The sages are certainly dead by all accounts; I’ve listened to enough panicked whispers and secret correspondences to deduce that much. If not by the hands of the demons who were attacking their regions, then it is certainly one astounding coincidence.”

With a pondering slowness, Ivan pulled his hand back and rose to his feet, offering the same arm back down to Perle to help her rise. She accepted, feet unsteady but holding as she did her best not to look too closely at any particular surrounding.

“I have a suspicion. Nothing certain, but… Any who have gained the power of what you call a World Demon through the same methods I suffered will likely hold an undying hatred for those seven souls who acted as our tormentors. If the leader of the demons is someone who possesses the power to marshal masses of otherworldly forces and the relentless drive to snuff out these sages, then we might be looking at another World Demon.”

Of course they were. Why not, at this point? The sages were secretly monsters worse than even demons, an army surrounded Omotane, so why not have two world-ending beings walking around as well just to round things out?

New tears sprang to Perle’s eyes, not the sharp painful ones dragged out by the shock of what was around her, but cold tears for a world she now realized might truly be living its final days.

Worst of all was the matter lying unsaid between them, the obvious issue that Ivan had managed to avoid so far. Unable to bear the uncertainty of what lay ahead, Perle forced her tongue to move forming the question whose answer scared her most.

“Will you help them?”

As her query drew both Ivan’s and Auro’s gazes, Perle pressed on, determined to see the matter settled one way or another. “The demons. These people they’re hunting are the same ones you detest. This isn’t your world, and you’ve made no secret of caring little for our fate. Will you abandon us to help the demons, Ivan?”

If he said yes, Perle knew what duty demanded. The sword at her hip could be drawn in a moment and pulled swiftly across her own throat. Ivan might be able to stop her, but there was always biting off her tongue. Ending her life would banish Ivan back to whatever realm had spawned him.

Perle just wished she felt more certain about her resolve to accomplish such a task.

In a single, horrifying gesture, Ivan nodded. “You’re right that I don’t especially care about this world or the majority of the people in it. And you make a good point, my own goals are likely more aligned with the demons than yours.”

Heart thumping loudly, Perle tightened her fist, trying to build up enough conviction to reach for her blade.

“But there are two other factors to account for: the first being that I despise betrayers. Being forced to turn against those I cared for was a horror that never fades. The idea of doing so intentionally sickens me to my stomach. Still, if it meant sparing your world the pain of these sages, I might have swallowed my distaste and made allegiances.”

Hope was a dangerous tonic. Perle wanted to believe this didn’t have to end with her demise, and that very notion weakened her resolve. Life was so precious, so fleeting. Perle didn’t know that she could sacrifice even whatever few moments might remain. “So what’s stopping you?”

“Elya.”

That… wasn’t what Perle expected, and her already crumbling resolve was further battered by the wave of confusion.

Mercifully, Ivan opted to elaborate. “This is not my world, but it is hers, and I will never knowingly visit more suffering on any iteration of that face. Leaving her to live on a broken husk is not an option, and none of you would be able to step into my realm due to its unique defenses. So my only choice is to defend this world.”

Perle couldn’t believe her ears. At best, truly best, she was hoping Ivan would agree to simply not interfere. For him to remain committed to their cause, even sharing the same⁠—

“While killing the other sages, of course.”

As quickly as Perle’s spirit had risen, it crashed down just as violently. That wasn’t the worst possible answer, merely close to it. Killing the sages was a crime against the kingdom and all its inhabitants. To go down that path meant they would not only be waging war against the demons, but a large chunk of the humans in these lands as well. Even if they avoided engagement – unlikely at best with Ivan and Auro in the mix – it would mean constant movement and lying low, making it all the harder to learn what the demon armies were up to.

And yet, as much as Perle wanted to offer a voice of protest, the sights around her silenced any objections. It was hard to admit, a bitter truth she had no desire to swallow, but actions such as this hidden workshop of warped flesh couldn’t be allowed to stand. Even knowing that the kingdom wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t want to face the reality of their great heroes, its people would be safer without such wicked forces at work.

If this was the truth of the seven sages, then Ivan was right. They did all deserve to die.

Of course, that all assumed her group managed to escape Omotane after killing a sage and managed to avoid the army of demons closing in on the city as they fled back into the wilderness with no destination in mind. Ivan would make it, certainly, but the rest of them weren’t vessels for unstoppable might.

“Auro, once we fetch Elya, can you get us all out of here?” Ivan asked. “I can knock down the walls, but I’d prefer a more subtle exit.”

“I’ve been half-casting a spell for escape since the moment we entered.” Auro’s wide grin made it hard to say if he was joking about or really had been that prepared, though Perle suspected the latter. The snake was far wilier than he sometimes wanted to be perceived.

“Excellent. We’ll leave the door to the chambers open and let Balipher’s guards handle the discovery themselves. Most likely they’ll bury it, but there is always a chance some will hold to the courage of their convictions.”

Perle found herself surprised by the implied optimism in such a sentiment, and she wasn’t the only one. “That’s a rather hopeful sentiment,” Auro noted as he pulled the sleeves on his robes back, preparing to cast.

Ivan’s stoic expression shifted ever-so-slightly, a distant look infiltrating his eyes. “In my realm, I have borne witness to the actions of a true hero. Knowing such souls exist, I can’t dismiss the possibility one might be among these guards.”

After everything he’d lived through, Ivan still believed in the idea of heroes? It sounded preposterous, like he was having a joke at their expense. Except Ivan didn’t joke. An ember of hope sparked in Perle’s heart, a tiny residue of the pyre of faith that once blazed within.

If even Ivan saw light in the world, who was she to keep her eyes only on the darkness?

“Where are we heading after the escape anyway?” Auro’s arms were now high in the air, a crackle of blue lights surrounding his fingers. “It will help me start us in the right direction.”

“Don’t cast it until we get Elya,” Ivan chided. “Once that’s done, you three will head back to the inn and secure our escape from town. As for me, that punch wasn’t nearly enough to settle my gut after seeing his vile face. I have some aggression to work out.”

The smile that touched his face sent a fresh shiver down Perle’s spine, reminding her once more that even if he was on her side, Ivan was still a World Demon. And his next words only drove the point home further.

“Lucky for me, someone parked a whole army of targets right outside.”

10

The multiverse was a world of warped mirrors.

Ivan couldn’t remember who said that – it was someone from his earlier gangs, a face who didn’t last long enough to garner a name. He wished he had, though, because his time here had proven just how wise the words truly were.

Despite the initial impression that Perle’s realm was nothing like his own, their parallels were becoming more noticeable by the day. Not only did this world have some of the same monsters trying to create their own Fornax, it even shared some of the victims.

The presence of Elya changed things so fundamentally even Ivan was still grappling with the shift. No longer was this a consequence-less world he could rip through to satisfy his debt. Now, this was her realm, the place where she would live once he returned home. Were it in his power, Ivan would have happily brought Elya along; however, even if he managed to make it home, talk to Wade, and find a way back here before the time-dilation rendered everything moot, they didn’t actually have a way to let Elya stay.

Which meant Ivan had to save this world… while also slaughtering any of these sages he could get his hands on. It was a difficult balance to walk, undoubtedly, and Ivan wasn’t sure how suited he was for the role. Saving things had never really been his forte.

Luckily for Omotane, the mix of confusion, concern, and unyielding rage had left Ivan unsettled enough to feel like a fight. An army of demons barely counted, but it was better than nothing. At least he could vent his frustrations freely, holding back only enough to ensure the planet itself wasn’t permanently damaged.

He stood outside the town, on a rocky outcropping just above the cliff’s sheer drop. From this vantage point, he could see the land darkened by demons. Whoever was running things clearly had the ability to summon or create weaker troops; there was no way someone would commit their entire army to a single point of attack, not when facing an entire kingdom of enemies. If this was the whole of the demon forces, though, that would simplify a few things, while also leaving Ivan keenly disappointed.

Was there another Fornax at work? Did Ivan have a real fight looming on the horizon? Perle’s comments about World Demons had left Ivan wondering, but he ultimately had no real proof. Just a hunch, and a lump in his gut that reminded Ivan how his luck usually panned out.

Fighting a Fornax in a vacuum didn’t bother Ivan. It was the idea of trying to square off with one while keeping the planet intact that gave him cause for concern.

If he did have a counterpart out there, they weren’t among the masses moving closer to Omotane. While never much for using his magic beyond a few quick tricks, Ivan could still sense the flow of mystical power through a world. Stronger magical forces tended to carry a metaphysical weight, and no one out there had the heft of a Fornax.

On one hand, Ivan was relieved. Protecting the planet would be hard enough; squaring off with a city right at his back would all but certainly mean his allies would be wiped out. But another part of him, an old piece buried down in the pit where he’d been raised, couldn’t help being interested in the idea of meeting a true peer. Would they be him again, or perhaps one of the others?

Raising an army and working from the shadows didn’t feel like his kind of tactic, though another Ivan would have their own variances. Still… if Ivan were wagering on what sort of Fornax he was up against, it wouldn’t be a mirror of himself.

The actual top guess, he didn’t dare to think, let alone speak out loud. Ivan had seen too many hopes dashed to give credence to his own, especially when they were so farfetched.

Scanning the teeming masses of bodies once more, Ivan decided he’d probably waited long enough. The others would need chaos to escape, but having it when they were cutting across the city would slow them down, so Ivan had given them a head start. By now they should be about done at the inn, or at least finished on the first leg of their journey.

Time to start the show.

In a single bound, Ivan leapt from his perch, hurtling through the air in a sharp arc that eventually turned downward, leading him to crash into the middle of the demons’ front wave of forces. The assemblage of creatures all turned in his direction, just as shocked as humans would be. Aside from the impossibility of his jump, what manner of fool leapt into the heart of an approaching army, where he’d be surrounded on all sides?

Rising from the small crater and dusting himself off, Ivan noted a towering fellow with massive muscles and a head that reminded him of an angry walnut racing forward, arms bulging as he swung a huge club. Credit to these forces: they were recovering from the surprise and responding quickly. Ivan had been expecting nothing but talentless fodder; instead, he faced a warrior of actual skill.

Not that it mattered.

In a casual swipe of his hand the demon never saw coming, Ivan tore that angry walnut of a head from its shoulders, causing it to bounce along in the grass several times before rolling to a stop. For his bravery and dedication, Ivan gifted the warrior a clean death at his actual hands, far better than the ending most of the army would face.

Pausing slightly – just in case there were any more noteworthy opponents about to come racing forward – Ivan checked his surroundings. The others were massing, but only preparing to attack together. No one else appeared to share the first warrior’s determined valor… or else they could see where such an attitude had landed him.

With a sigh of slight disappointment, Ivan prepared to take this fight to its next level. For all the powers he demonstrated to others, the strongest skill Ivan actually possessed was his ability to hold back. When he’d first emerged from the hell where Fornax was born, Ivan could barely throw a jab without obliterating a building. It was on his quest for control that he’d first met Fesver and struck upon the idea of using his destructive magic for the purpose.

Although he’d gained better fine muscle control through the years, Ivan’s primary method of holding back was using the destructive aspect of his magic to target the force of his own punches. With every blow – hell, with most of his movement – Ivan reactively neutralized the excessive force his body generated. Aside from allowing him to function in normal society, it had also helped his actual magical control grow by leaps and bounds.

Of course, there was the lone exception, the one opponent who drew forth his true efforts.

At that thought, Ivan wondered what she would say, seeing him thrust into such a role. Most would have found the notion of Fornax playing hero patently ridiculous, but that woman had a habit of believing the best in people. She’d probably tell him that if the demons could think, they could reason, and thus there was an avenue to peace here. She might even be right, as was her bothersome habit.

But these poor souls hadn’t gotten a real hero. Just a monster with debts to settle.

Rearing back, Ivan let loose a single punch, permitting some of his actual power to peek through. It had been a while since he threw a sincere attack, and he wanted to get dialed in on the appropriate level of force before beginning in earnest.

As the roar of the air faded and the screams of the demons rose up, Ivan looked over the scene with a largely impassive gaze – though as he examined the huge rut of torn earth and the crumpled bodies before him, Ivan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He’d overshot his target amount of force. Maybe it was a good thing the army was here. Ivan didn’t want to arrive back in his own world rusty. Looking toward another section of demons, ones that were already fleeing, Ivan slightly adjusted his magical output and took aim.

The demons’ wails were as horrendous as they were short-lived.

It was like… no, there was nothing.

Perle’s mind had no comparisons to offer, no metaphors to distance herself from the reality before her as she watched an entire swath of countryside be simply… annihilated.

Getting to their inn and out of the city had been surprisingly easy. While Balipher was dead, no one knew that yet; it wasn’t as if people often disturbed the sage during his meetings. With Auro getting them out of the tower unseen, it was just a matter of racing through the streets, gathering their belongings, and then speeding for the gates. They’d managed to grab a few supplies while in Omotane, enough to survive on the road but nowhere near the true restocking they’d hoped for.

From there, Auro led them to the nearest vantage point, a small grove on a hilltop where one could see past Omotane and on to the lands below. It was there they’d settled in to watch whatever trick or diversion Ivan had in mind to drive off an entire army.

And then Perle had seen the wave of destruction.

A dark tide that rose from seemingly nowhere, washing over the demon army and leaving nothing but bloodied pieces in its wake. Despite the distance between her and the army, Perle could see the blood simply by virtue of how much there was. It was as though someone were trying to paint the landscape in hues of red, green and yellow. Different demons had different colors of blood, apparently.

In a horrible, gruesome way, the sight was almost pretty. Assuming one didn’t tally the number of lives being wiped out by the moment. Because the wave Perle had seen was only the first.

The first of many.

Her mouth was dry, and had she not lost all of her stomach in Balipher’s workshop, Perle might have been leaned over. So much death. This was beyond anything she’d expected or feared. It was one thing to know Ivan was strong. A lot of creatures were strong, that was why humans worked together to bring them down. With enough forces, they could theoretically overwhelm any opponent.

Ivan was shattering that theory before her very eyes.

Numbers meant nothing; they only seemed to fuel the waves of death blasting out without warning. Was this… Ivan using his actual magic? This whole time, had he been doing nothing but wielding raw force against their foes?

It should have been a moment of triumph. Given the cheers she could hear rising from Omotane, the public certainly viewed it as such. But two things held Perle from celebration, and the first was simply the scale of life being lost. Even if they were enemies and hailed from other realms, demons were still living, mostly sentient beings. Foes or not, she couldn’t bring herself to revel in that amount of suffering.

The second worry tainting the sight was Perle’s knowledge that today’s army of demons could be tomorrow’s band of humans. Ivan had no particular care for anyone outside their group, and now he was set on killing the sages. If humanity tried to rally to their defense, would Ivan walk through their forces with the same casual disregard for life?

It wasn’t even really a question.

Waves of dark energy tore across the landscape, wiping out entire sections of forest along with the creatures that had been marching through it. Ivan’s strikes were reshaping the very topography of the kingdom, a notion that would have seemed ludicrous if Perle weren’t watching it for herself.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and Perle nearly leapt out of her boots before realizing it was Elya, whose gaze was also turned toward the dying demon army. “As awe-inspiring as it is horrifying.”

“Sometimes… sometimes I forget, just for a little while. What Ivan can do.”

Perle’s words drew a snort from her side, where she found Auro staring at the battlefield with rapt attention. “Make no mistake, this is still not a sincere representation of Ivan’s abilities. None of us has seen what he can truly do, and I’m honestly not sure we’d survive the experience if we did.”

“How much more powerful can he get?” Perle wondered, half aloud, half asking the heavens themselves.

“Ask yourself this: those eyes of his, do they belong to a City Demon? A Kingdom Demon? A Continent Demon? What title was it again?”

Despite how dry her mouth suddenly felt, Perle still forced herself to swallow before managing to answer. “A World Demon.”

“Precisely. When Ivan’s strikes threaten our entire world, then we have seen him putting forth true effort. All of this, spectacular as it might be, is still a portrait of restraint.”

When Perle had first made her peace with Ivan’s nature, she’d thought she was putting passersby and perhaps the cities they visited in danger. This… this was a scale beyond anything the priestess had imagined. One bad day, and he might very well wipe them all out to just be done with the bother.

Thankfully, the comforting hand still resting on her shoulder reminded Perle that there was one mitigating factor to consider: Elya. Ivan had said it himself, this being her world offered it a measure of protection. Granted, there was the possibility that he’d just move Elya to another realm, but Perle wasn’t sure how keen the knight herself would be on such an idea.

Still, the presence of Elya helped steady Perle’s thoughts. Even through the dark armor, her grip felt a touch warmer than before, a factor Perle tried hard not to dwell on as she was watching life ended en masse.

Controlling Ivan was a laughable concept, restraining him just as ludicrous. The only method Perle could conceive of to hold him back was to put herself into battle instead. Ivan had been keen to force her growth against the azkrill; perhaps she could begin shouldering the burden of combat against humans and demons as well. Fights where she could demonstrate mercy and go for victory rather than slaughter.

Of course, the only plan worked if Perle grew stronger. And considering the monster she was chasing, the priestess of the Lost Moon had a tremendous amount of work to do.

Turning her back to the slaughter, Perle laid her own hand atop of Elya’s. “Would you like to do some sparring while we wait?”

Elya needed no explanation, the nod of her head and the sharpness of her smile answer enough. It was strange, not having her expressions always hidden behind the helm; she didn’t wear Auro’s as constantly as her last head-protector, though that was likely because she no longer had anything to hide. In truth, Perle found herself doing worse as they started their training, as she had a tendency to get distracted by Elya’s expressions.

But she kept working as the demons’ wails faded into the night, kept swinging her sword as the sun sank through the sky, didn’t stop even as Ivan appeared without warning, completely clean of any blood despite the oceans he’d spilled.

Even as they marched onward to the next town, Perle tried to find ways to push herself, straining against her limits. Every chance to improve, she had to take. Every advantage there was, she was going to need.

That was Perle’s only hope of potentially standing between her world and her champion.

The hall was thick with noise, cheering and toasting, celebrations galore. Scents of all manner of delicious dishes wafted through the air, plates piled high with delicacies whipped up by what had once been the castle’s finest chefs. When they’d taken over this castle and killed the traitorous king, many had wanted to tear apart the other humans as well, but their leader wouldn’t hear of it.

In hindsight, that wisdom had borne out, as the staff proved both helpful and necessary in maintaining an entire castle. Of course, it wasn’t reason that kept the demons from touching a single member of the staff after their leader’s declaration.

It was fear.

Some demons were cruel. Some demons were crafty. Some demons were strong. Some demons were swift. Their leader was anything and everything he wanted to be in any given moment. The fact that he could rip open holes between realms and draw in more forces alone would have made him the mightiest of them all, yet he treated such power like it was a parlor trick.

The figure in question appeared amidst the celebration, popping up in the middle of the room, his body largely obscured by a voluminous black cloak. Any could don such a garment, yet it was the aura of silent power that seeped out which truly marked their leader. Instantly, the tone of the chamber grew subdued, as all eyes turned toward the head of the demon army.

“Is everybody having fun?!” His full-throated question was met with a roar from the gathered demons, both genuinely celebratory and wise enough to match their leader’s energy.

“Fantastic! That’s what I like to hear. Because you should be, my wonderful forces. Another sage is dead!”

This time, the cheer came on its own, screaming triumph bursting from their throats. Even if it had cost untold demon lives to manage, apparently the sack of Omotane had worked. Their forces were dead, but so was the sage, and that was a trade evidently deemed acceptable. It helped that they hadn’t sent their best to the task, mostly the demons who were only a few steps above feral beasts.

“In celebration, I’ve commissioned a new art piece from one of our best sculptors. Please, take a look.” With a snap of his fingers, their leader conjured a twisted lump of what might have once been flesh. It was bent and molded at shifting angles, with odd features like an eyeball here or an ear there. Not until the mouth, which was next to a foot, opened and started screaming did anyone realize that the statue in question was actually alive.

“I’ve decided to name it ‘Leading by Example’, though I’m told his name used to be Jayviz the Thorough.” Their leader patted the statue lovingly, caressing the elbow poking out of a bellybutton and drawing a fresh scream from its depths. “Much as I love to scry and spy, I certainly wasn’t expecting what lay under that knight’s helm. So I was merciful to Jayviz here; he couldn’t act on information not even I possessed. Eventually, over time, the enchantment will fade. In a decade or so, he’ll finally die.”

Even with his eyes hidden, the demons in the room could feel it as their leader’s attention shifted, falling onto their all-too-frail forms. “I will not be nearly so merciful if any of you or your minions lay a single finger on that fucking knight. The others are fair game, but anyone who harms the knight named Elya can expect to join my art collection and find out just how creative I can truly be.”

A tense silence stretched onward until their leader clapped his hands, tone shifting back to jovial like the detour had never even occurred. “Let’s get some music in here – it’s a party after all! Three sages down, four more to go.”

The party resumed as music appeared as if from nowhere, more of their leader’s magic at play. While the food was delicious and the mood cheerful, every demon inevitably cast their eyes to the living flesh statue resting in the center of the room.

Who was this knight? Why did their leader care about her safety?

And what horrors would he unleash upon them if she were allowed to fall?

End of Part 2

Camp Meta

1

Rolling hills of scenic splendor and bubbling streams were wasted on the sullen teen watching them roll past, head pressed against the cool window of his father’s car. With each mile they passed, moving closer to their destination, Rick Gerhardt felt his anxiety rise. Despite this whole endeavor being his idea, that didn’t make the prospect more appealing.

“We don’t have to do this so soon. It’s only been a few months.”

Ivan had driven that point home and back again so many times he was practically its chauffeur. Rather than push his son to take the next steps, the man once known as Fornax seemed almost fearful of the notion that Rick would soon be once again among civilized society.

In a matter of speaking, anyway.

Although his frayed nerves were more than happy to consider the out, Rick himself rejected it immediately. “We kind of do, actually. College isn’t far off, this is the last session that fits our schedule, and I need some real-world practice before I’ll feel safe setting foot on campus. This is the safest public environment we can hope for.”

If not for the string of events that led to Rick being a metahuman, this would be his senior year of high school. That had been the plan for his old life, when the most important thing was bolstering his GPA and extracurriculars to reach a school with significant prestige.

After the change, he’d quickly realized high school was in the past. It simply had to be. Rick was too smart not to realize walking into a place like that with incredible powers and anything less than absolute perfect control was asking for an inevitable incident. He was mature for his age, but that meant he was able to see the pitfalls rather than blindly believe he’d somehow overcome them.

At least there had been ample time to finish off his degree during their training. Fighting was only part of the curriculum; control took up far more time. Learning to stay in his shapeshifted forms, and especially manage fine-motor tasks like typing on a keyboard, was a major portion of the work they did. Add in that his mind was working even better than before, and the whole thing was more a side project than a serious endeavor.

“Getting you another training opportunity would be a minor matter.”

“I’m sure it would, but I also don’t think for a moment it would be an authentic experience.” Rick pulled his head from the window, finally facing his father properly. “When I go back into the world, you won’t always be there, and even if you could, that would be pretty weird. I have to do this on my own. I need to know there’s not a safety net beyond what everyone else there will get.”

Ivan drove them over a set of rusted railroad tracks that looked like they would buckle under the weight of a locomotive, the car rumbling softly as they passed. “I understand. I don’t like it, but you’re seventeen now, and about to be living on your own for the first time. You’re going to be driving your own life in a way you never have before. I’d do you a disservice to leave you feeling underprepared for that kind of responsibility.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ivan produced a small ring, which he offered to Rick. “However, there is something to be said for redundancies. This will summon me if you squeeze it for ten continuous seconds. Not likely to happen on accident, and easy to accomplish in any stressful situation: you just make a fist. Unless you use it, I promise neither I nor anyone from the guild will come near the area; however, taking it is non-negotiable.”

Knowing his father well and recognizing this was a point that would not be budged on, Rick accepted the ring and slipped it onto the middle finger of his left hand. It shimmered and went translucent a moment later, though Rick could still perceive the now invisible item through his twice shape-shifted eyes.

They turned from what one could generously call the main road onto an even more rustic path, bumping and bouncing as they headed up a steep incline. “They really stick us out in the middle of nowhere for this, don’t they?”

“Of course. It’s a camp for people who’ve gotten powers they’re still working on mastering. Containing collateral damage would be among the first priorities.”

Knowing his own capabilities, and the destruction wrought through their own early camps, Rick could admit he understood that particular need. The fact that he was about to be penned in with a bunch of other metahumans with potentially unstable control sent a shot of worry through his nerves, but that was part of the camp’s appeal.

If he could make it through this without any incidents, Rick hoped the notion of college wouldn’t seem nearly so terrifying.

“I’m surprised this place isn’t run by the AHC. Seems like it would be under their general umbrella, especially given the potential for recruiting and all that.”

“It’s pretty much for exactly that reason they aren’t connected,” Ivan informed him. “The AHC accepts just about any meta who sincerely wants to do the job, but the new capes have to come to them. Aggressive recruiting was a hallmark of the League of Metas; the Alliance of Heroic Champions believes those who feel the call will find their way to it.”

Unsure of what to say on that topic, Rick allowed the conversation to lapse. The idea of capes was one he and his father hadn’t talked about much over their months of training. As his control increased and they neared the end of Rick’s seclusion, however, it was a thought that had been weighing heavier on his mind.

What did he want to do with this power?

Should it totally change his life plans, or merely become an addendum to them? Should he use his powers openly, putting them to work for the world at large, or hide his true potential behind a mundane façade? For so long, Rick had known the path before him, what goals he was working toward. Now… now he was just trying to make it one step after another.

As they crested the steep incline at last, the camp came into view. It was a lovely scene, sparkling sunlight dancing along the gently lapping lake, which was surrounded by picturesque log cabins of various sizes. Trees encircled the camp itself, each taller and lusher than the last. The only mar upon the sight was a blocky gray building on the other side of the lake, crowned with smokestacks letting out occasional puffs of white clouds and a sign proclaiming it to be the Healthtastic Harvest Corporation.

The car rumbled forward, passing under the large wooden sign labeled “Camp Meet-A-New-You” that had been visibly well-maintained over the camp’s many years, before finally rolling to a halt in a flat dirt parking area.

Hefting Rick’s duffel bag up from the back seat, Ivan handed it over. “I know it’s only five days, but if at any point you start to feel yourself slipping, are worried about control, or just need to talk…”

“I know, Dad. Thank you.” Rick took the bag, but leaned further forward, wrapping his father in a tight hug. “For this. For the last few months. For making this whole process… I can’t say good, but bearable. Better than it could have been, for sure.”

Ivan hugged him back, arms that could snap the spines of celebrated superheroes with a twitch embracing Rick gently. It was a lovely moment, and a finite one, as Rick eventually broke apart from his father and scooped up the duffel, stepping into the world on his own for the first time since becoming a metahuman.

Though he wore a confident grin, deep down Rick was hoping with all his might that this wasn’t a terrible mistake.

2

After a brief farewell with his father, and an additional warning that he not interfere, Rick was officially on his own. In a sense, at least, as it was hard to be truly on one’s own while in a crowd of conversing peers.

Everyone present was in the general vicinity of Rick’s age; the camp ran different sessions for different age groups to keep participants feeling comfortable. Adjusting to new abilities was hard enough; having bigger, older kids around would only stress the younger ones out. Of those present, the majority looked a bit shell-shocked, like they couldn’t quite believe they were really here.

Given that their lives must have taken unexpected turns to end up at Camp Meet-a-New-You, the expressions were quite fitting. Each person present had gotten their powers somewhat recently; those born with abilities would have been familiar with them already.

“Good morning, campers!” The voice came from overhead, and Rick tilted his head back to find a man in a bright yellow polo sporting enormous blue wings on his back that held him aloft with an occasional flap. “My name is Counselor Kaiden, and I am so happy to welcome everyone to their first day at Camp Meet-a-New-You. Please gather up at the tables for check-in, and we’ll get your cabin assignments sorted out.”

Watching him fly off to another section of the arrival area to repeat the speech, Rick shook his head and wandered over to the crowd growing around a stretch of wooden tables with more counselors in yellow polos waiting. None had giant wings sprouting from their back, however there were meta-indicators among them. An ear that was too pointy, skin a shade more purple than was healthy, spines poking out from the elbows and knees. Telltale signs that Rick might not have noticed, if he hadn’t spent so long working on his own appearance.

In this form, Rick was could easily pass for a human. He appeared perfectly mundane and unremarkable, like any other face a person might see walking the street. Ivan had insisted on the importance of being able to vanish amidst a crowd, and Rick wasn’t quite foolhardy enough to ignore his father’s guidance on that front.

Making it through the line went surprisingly fast; the counselors had ample practice checking campers in and made quick work of it. After presenting his ID, Rick was handed a camp t-shirt, a lanyard with his name, and a cabin assignment. Skimming the document, Rick discovered he was in Storm Cabin and set out to locate his sleeping quarters.

Wandering through the camp, checking the cabin names, it was hard not to notice the unique system they’d used. Rick would have expected the cabins to be named after superheroes, or maybe famous explorers. Instead, it seemed they were sticking to the theme of natural elements.

In the short walk to find his own lodging, Rick passed by Ocean Cabin, Tundra Cabin, Forest Cabin, Nebula Cabin, and Lava Cabin, all of whom had painted exteriors matching their names. When he finally spotted a structure adorned in painted lightning bolts and clouds, Rick knew he’d found Storm Cabin even before spotting the sign hanging overhead.

Stepping in, he found himself gazing at what looked to be the inside of a thundercloud. Bright, sharp currents were painted along the walls and ceiling, a flow of electricity moving through a world of dark, swirling clouds. Whoever had done the decor had to be metahuman; there was just no way Rick could conceive that normal paint would create something so lifelike.

After what felt like minutes of staring at the walls, Rick finally took in the rest of the cabin. Four bunkbeds occupied the space, positioned equidistant around the room. In front of each was a trunk with the words “Emergency Supplies” embedded in the surface, and in the back, two doors opened to reveal separate bathrooms.

Rick whispered a silent prayer of thanks that he wouldn’t have to be trekking around for an outhouse. Determined as he was to see this all through, that might have tempted him to sling a little magic. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing – he was here to practice around people, after all – but Rick preferred to use his power on his terms. Not out of bathroom necessity.

As he was looking over the rooms, a flush rang out, and a third door along the back wall opened to reveal another camper. Tall and lanky, he had a messy mop of hair and a big grin that dominated most of his face. The smile flickered when he noticed Rick’s arrival, however. “Oh sure, of course my first cabinmate gets here while I’ve locked in the bathroom taking a stress shit. Looks like Camp Meta is off to a banger of a start.”

Pointedly, the young man shut the bathroom door behind him, kicking it closed with his foot. “Anyway, hey man! I’m Doug Pillins, nice to meet you.”

“Same here. Name is Rick Gerhardt.”

“Cool deal. Pick a bunk yet?”

Rick shook his head. “I got kind of distracted by all of…” He waved his hands at the walls of art rather than state the obvious.

“This shit is nuts, right?” Doug wandered over to one of the four bunks and patted it, causing a bag on top to bounce slightly. “Well, if you don’t mind bottom bunk, you’re welcome to join. Top is a must for me, though; it’s pretty much the only chance I get to make my power look cool.”

With a hop, Doug floated up through the air, reaching an apex and then drifting down onto the waiting sheet below. “I’ve got the ability to manipulate my buoyancy, which sounds fancy, but in effect means I’m a human version of a blown-up balloon.”

“Flight seems pretty cool,” Rick replied, walking over and setting his duffel on the bunk below Doug’s. Top or bottom made little different to him, and Doug seemed a nice enough guy. Besides, after months of seeing only his family, Rick was hungrier for social interaction than he’d realized.

“Well sure, flight kicks ass. If I was soaring around like Counselor Kaiden, I’d be up in the sky singing like a lark. Floating around doesn’t pack nearly the same punch, trust me on that one.”

Doug’s head dropped into Rick’s line of sight as he leaned down over his bunk. “How about you? Have something good you want to master, or here hoping to improve what you’ve got?”

Hesitation flared up, a reflexive denial about the powers he’d been concealing since they were received. But Rick had decided to live openly as a meta, even if he didn’t let on the extent of his powers, and this camp was part of establishing that identity. Hiding his abilities wouldn’t just do no good, it would be actively counterproductive, and frankly a bit silly since he was at a camp specially for newly-turned metahumans.

Raising his right hand, Rick took inspiration from the room and conjured a miniature cloud above his palm, the dark mass rolling and churning like it was ready to storm at any moment. “In a word: magic.”

3

Darvin raced down the smooth white tiles of the hall, his shoes leaving bloody footprints behind as he ran, white lab coat flapping like a blood-stained cape. Things had been going so well… right until everything went violently to shit. Still, it would be alright. So long as they activated the containment protocols, they could take samples from the remains and do better next time.

Explaining away all those bodies would be a bear, but industrial accidents happened. That’s what the company had liability insurance for.

Spotting the hand-scanner that would release him from this section of the facility, Darvin poured on a final burst of speed, slamming his palm against the digital pad. It took three tries thanks to his nerves; he had to wipe his hand against his coat to get the sweat off, but at last the hiss of the locks releasing greeted him.

The joy was short-lived. A sudden pressure on his ankle was all the warning Darvin got before he was yanked forcefully backward. His hands slapped ineffectively at the tile, trying desperately to hold himself back.

Soon, the tips of his fingers broke open, leaving thin red trails that ran between the bloody footprints as he screamed for someone, anyone, to help.

Doug leapt off the top bunk, floating down to get a better look. “Holy shit, man, you can do magic? That’s… that’s fucking wild. What kinds of magic?”

“There are different kinds?”

“Sure!” Doug flung his hands up, waving them in the air. “You’ve got your classic spellcaster types who work like wizards from a fantasy novel, your specializers who have one magical aspect they do super well, and the unique cases where their magic takes the form of an existing archetype, just to name a few.”

“I think you know more about magic-based metahumans than I do,” Rick admitted. “Classic wizard style, mostly. I form an image of what I want to happen, feed it power, and if I’ve got enough, then it happens.”

While technically true, that description left out a great deal of the subtleties within the art form, not to mention the lessons and spells he’d gotten from Auro’s book. His father’s old friend had been quite the caster; even after months of study, Rick felt he’d barely scratched the surface of that tome. Luckily, since Rick was looking to establish himself as just a metahuman, not one of distinction or note; he didn’t need full mastery of his powers to sell this story.

“Oh, I know more about metahumans than is wise or healthy. All I wanted for most of my life was to get powers of my own. I learned everything I could about every power out there, determined that when my day finally came, I’d be ready to make the most of whatever I received.” Sighing, Doug hopped through the air, floating back onto his bunk. “Men plan and gods laugh, as they say.”

“I still think getting to float is pretty cool,” Rick insisted.

He was spared from having to defend that stance by the banging of the cabin door flying open. Two more young men entered, one with height and a winning grin, the other notably more muscular than any non-metahuman teen could achieve without chemical assistance. The taller of the two walked toward the nearest bunk and dropped his set of backpacks onto the top bed, while the more muscular one set an old-fashioned suitcase on the bottom.

“What’s up, my Storm Cabin compadres? Name’s Cam, and this is Lucas. Usually a chatty guy, but the new powers spiked his vocal cords along with the other muscles, so he’s currently keeping quiet while working on volume control.”

The taller of the two, Cam, shook Rick’s and Doug’s hands like a politician making the rounds. While Rick was happy to accept the explanation at face value, Doug leaned over the side of his bunk, peering at Lucas. “Is it really that bad?”

“YES.”

Doug covered his ears, Cam jerked like he’d been smacked, and Rick winced in surprise. As they recovered, Lucas opened his suitcase and removed a large yellow pad of paper, along with a trio of pens. No one wanted, or needed, to ask him for an explanation on the purpose of the paper. Not with several eardrums still recovering from a single syllable.

When it seemed everyone’s ears were no longer ringing, Cam motioned to Lucas. “So now we obviously know what my buddy is packing, and I heard someone mention floating when we came in, is someone here a flier?”

“Just floating,” Doug corrected. “Like a balloon you blew up yourself.”

“Oh. That’s… jovial.” Although Cam did an admirable job keeping his tone light, Doug groaned and flopped back onto his mattress.

“It’s a kick in the nards is what it is. So Rick here is magic, Lucas has super-strength, let me guess: you round it out with the ability to summon spendable cash out of thin air.”

Cam chuckled, already hunching down and putting his hand against the wooden floor of the cabin. Over a span of seconds, his skin turned a similar shade and consistency as the wood he was touching, until it appeared as though Cam had been carved from a tree himself. When he stood back up, the motion was unnerving, like watching a statue flex.

“Property mimic. I can take on aspects of whatever substance I touch. Well, whatever mundane substance. I attempted to mimic a meta-metal and it was like trying to drink bricks through a straw.”

Slowly, the wooden texture drained away from Cam’s skin, his body returning to normal. “Holding on to whatever I mimic grows progressively more taxing over time, though, so I tend to stay human and switch it up when the need arises. Don’t you boys worry, I’ll be in whatever shape we need when competition time rolls around.”

Rick kept a largely deadpan face as he lifted a single eyebrow, looking more like his father in that moment than he would ever realize. Doug noticed the expression, having peeled himself back into a sitting position on his bunk. “Did you not read about the camp competition that runs while we’re here?”

“I mostly focused on the treatment stuff.” Rick had thoroughly read through the camp’s documentation on safety, emergency procedures, and redundancy systems, however he hadn’t given nearly the same breadth of attention to items like the actual camp schedule. It was a dense packet, after all.

“Competition is part of the treatment,” Cam explained. “The camp mixes in theory and application. We work on understanding techniques for better control, then get the chance to implement them in some friendly games between cabins. Games that Storm Cabin is going to absolutely CRUSH!”

Cam stuck his right hand out, palm facing the ground, and Lucas immediately did the same, covering part of Cam’s hand with his own. Doug hopped down with a sudden surge of enthusiasm, adding his own hand to the huddle. “Hell yeah! Riding my cabin’s coattails is the only shot at glory I’ve got, and I’m not too proud to take it.”

Although he had some serious concerns about what competition might bring out in him, Rick shoved his worries aside and stuck his hand in with the others.

4

“Here’s a question I want you all to keep in mind over the coming days: what is my power? Not what it appears to be, not how it manifests, not even what people call it. What is it, truly, that you’re doing when you reach beyond the known limits of humanity? What forces are you calling on? What aspects of existence are you shifting about? There is no training, no trial, no trick anyone can impart that will grant you greater mastery over your gifts than finding an answer to that seemingly simple question.”

Counselor Grady was an unexpectedly talented orator, holding the attention of over a dozen teens running across a carefully selected age spectrum. His easygoing smile and well-coifed hair certainly gave the impression of a man who had it all together, which for this group in particular was an especially fetching feature to find. The pointed ears were barely even noticeable, if anything they added to his charm.

Standing before the campers seated in plastic chairs through the large cabin serving as their mess hall, he strode back and forth with a practiced ease that carried a sense of excitement rather than anxiety.

“As we do our workshops and activities – don’t worry I’ll get to those soon – I ask that you take time and return to that question. This is a wonderful opportunity to seek those answers, as you’ve got access to an incredible staff with years of experience of helping young folks just like you work through that very query.”

Counselor Grady motioned to the rear of the cabin, where the five other counselors were all lined up. They waved as the group looked backward, faces beaming and arms moving enthusiastically. “Each cabin has their own dedicated counselor, so please make sure to familiarize yourself with yours. I, for example, am in charge of the great guys over in Storm Cabin!”

Extending his arm in an imaginary fist-bump, Counselor Grady mimed blowing up his fingers, in a move that really should have seemed cornier than he managed.

It hadn’t taken Rick long to figure out the setup of Camp Meta’s cabin system; they kept things as simple as possible. The camp was divided into three age ranges, with two cabins each to consolidate genders. Storm Cabin represented the highest end of the scale, only hosting campers aged sixteen-through-eighteen. As metahumans weren’t officially allowed to act as superheroes until they reached sixteen years old, that age marked a fairly major distinction in how the occupants could proceed after camp concluded.

The next set of cabins were for fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds, with the final category being reserved for metahumans at age thirteen or twelve with a birthday near. No one could expect instant harmony from strangers forced to share space, but the camp had clearly tried to keep everyone within similar age ranges for maximum cabin compatibility.

There was also definitely more capacity than this particular week was filling. Despite having space for eight total campers, Storm Cabin had topped off at four. Their counterpart, Lava Cabin, only had three residents this time around. And that was a good bit compared to the others. At seven of the fourteen campers, the eldest cabins represented over half of the thirteen attendees. Four were in the next age group down, and only two had shown up for the thirteen-year-old category.

While the number seemed small, Rick had to remind himself that this wasn’t some strictly recreational summer camp. Those here were grappling with a specific need, and there would only be so many new metahumans on a week-to-week basis, let alone the numbers that knew about the camp, had the ability to attend, and so forth. Besides, he was rather glad for the reduced capacity. Thirteen campers and six counselors were still a lot more people than he’d been around in months.

As Rick had been musing, Counselor Grady continued his welcoming spiel. It was fairly good information, just not especially applicable for Rick. Unlike the other campers, he wasn’t here to gain initial control so much as giving himself a test run.

Dedicated as this staff might be, they couldn’t hope to match Ivan Gerhardt’s lessons on control.

“…and then we’ll wrap with dinner in the evening.” The mention of food from Counselor Grady had snapped Rick’s attention back in that direction, just in time to catch a knowing smirk that hinted at knowing exactly what he’d just done.

“Now then, let’s get to what many of you have already asked us about: the camp competition!” Counselor Grady paused as a wave of cheering and applause rang out from the back of the room where the other counselors were gathered. “That’s right, through the week we’ll have various activities that offer a chance to practice our abilities. Some will be more suited to certain gifts than others, but don’t worry, we’ve got a wide spectrum planned. Whichever cabin has the highest score at our goodbye dinner gets an extra serving of Kaiden’s famous homemade cinnamon cake, not to mention bragging rights.”

Another round of applause came from behind, with Counselor Kaiden stepping forth to take a bow, his bright blue wings folding back neatly into his shoulders.

“I know everyone’s excited; I am too. But we won’t have new techniques to test out until we do our first round of group sessions, so let’s get things moving! Lava and Storm Cabins, you lot stay here. Tundra and Forest Cabins, you’re in the Recreation Cabin. Nebula and Ocean Cabins, since there’s only two of you, how about you head over to the lake. Switch to one of the spare cabins if the sun gets to be a problem.”

With ample movement and chatter, the younger campers all made their way over to their respective counselors, who led each cluster out of the large double doors at the building’s front. Once the last of them was gone, the hall felt notably larger from the lack of bodies.

Aside from himself, Doug, Cam, Lucas, and Counselor Grady, there were the three women residing in Lava Cabin along with their counselor. Rick hadn’t caught her name yet; however, he’d taken note of the small spines sticking out of her elbows and other large joints.

“Alright everyone, let’s crunch in a bit, just make sure to leave enough room so no one feels crowded.” Counselor Grady plucked a few of the now-empty chairs and stuck them off to the side, motioning for the campers nearest him to scoot in closer. “While Counselor Payton and I move these chairs, why don’t you all start with an icebreaker game. When it’s your turn, you say your name, as much of your power as you’re comfortable discussing, and the best dessert you’ve ever had.”

Depositing down another set of chairs, Counselor Grady scanned his participants. “Since Storm Cabin has an extra member, looks like we’ll need to start there.”

Rick found his breath suddenly turning unsteady as the reality of his situation settled in. This was it: the moment that defined his story for years to come, possibly the rest of his life. Whatever Rick said here, at this camp, would be the official record of his abilities and experiences were anyone to come snooping around. And Ivan had made it clear that if a metahuman rose to any level of prominence, people would snoop.

While Rick didn’t plan on making a spectacle of himself, in this form or any others, the mere scale of his power meant he couldn’t disregard the possibility of fame later in life. Building a foundation now would benefit him later.

Assuming he built a good one, of course.

5

“Hi everybody. My name is Rick Gerhardt, my favorite dessert is this chocolate soufflé my dad makes on special occasions, and my power is, well… magic, for lack of a better term.” Although no demonstration was asked for, Rick raised his hand and produced a small orb of light hovering over his palm.

Establishing his supposed abilities, limitations, and history was another part of his task over the course of camp. If anyone came sniffing around one day, these would be the “secrets” they uncovered.

Closing his hand, Rick snuffed out the light. “I gained my powers during that stretch a few months back where monsters from other realms kept appearing. Got knocked into some weird puddle of interdimensional goo and when I rolled out, suddenly I’d gained access to magic.”

The “goo-origin” they’d settled on wasn’t especially glamorous, but it did line up with any eye-witness accounts from the day Rick had debuted his powers. While the goop he’d actually been covered in was left over from his own partially transmogrified body, the only people who knew that tidbit were family. Everyone else had only seen a young boy covered in red slime and debris saving them from monsters.

“We’ve had quite a few come through camp after the dimensional events,” Counselor Grady interjected. “Most in the more immediate aftermath, but there’ve been quite a few who came to their abilities later.”

“Mine were manifested pretty much on the spot; I just took some time in isolation to figure them out. Magic is powerful, and dangerous if misused. My folks were great, they got me a private place where I could practice without hurting anyone, and even some references from other magic-wielding metas. I wanted to be totally sure I had them in control before being around other people.”

That last bit was meant as reassurance as much as supporting Rick’s backstory. If he was telling people he needed months to gain control of his powers, it was only natural they’d wonder whether or not he’d fully succeeded in the endeavor.

In truth, the vast majority of Rick’s effort had been spent learning to cast through multiple layers of shapeshifting. Using one already stole a great deal of one’s immediate power; not only dedicating magic to the task of upholding the change but also forcing the spells through an artificial form made them more cumbersome. It was akin to painting with oven mitts on.

Manipulating magic through two layers of shapeshifting added roller skates and a blindfold to the painting analogy. While in his current human form, Rick was limited to only the most basic, fundamental of spells, and even those represented a tremendous level of study and dedication.

“Thank you for sharing, Rick.” The speaker this time was Counselor Grady’s counterpart from Lava Cabin, the woman with spines poking out at several points along her body. “Wendy, would you like to go next?”

“Happy to, Counselor Payton.” The first of Lava Cabin’s residents stood from her chair, a tanned woman with a generous smattering of freckles across her face. Her rise didn’t stop upon reaching her feet, however, as Wendy continued to lift off the ground, taking her chair up along with her.

They paused roughly three feet in the air, holding steady in place. “My name is Wendy Mondinu, and I gained the power of psychokinesis after accidentally unleashing and defeating an evil entity of the mind. Unlike telekinesis, my ability allows for some interaction with and manifestation of energy.”

Holding out both hands, Wendy visibly concentrated as a small spark burst into being, though the effort caused her to drop by a foot. “I’ve still got a lot to master, but I’m hoping to learn more here. Oh, and my favorite dessert is strawberry gelato.”

Settling back onto the ground, Wendy waited as her chair floated back into its starting position before retaking her seat, at which point Counselor Payton offered up a round of gentle applause. “Excellently done, Wendy.”

“Alright Doug, that puts you up next,” Counselor Grady encouraged.

With a sigh that was equal parts foreboding and dramatic, Doug dragged himself out of his chair like it was trying to claw him back. “So lovely to follow those incredible powers. Hey everybody, I’m Doug Pillins, favorite dessert is a brookie – that’s half-brownie half-cookie for any philistines in the mix – and my power is floating. Not flying. Floating.”

Not offering a demonstration, as that hadn’t actually been part of the criteria, Doug flopped back into his seat.

“Thank you, Doug, that was certainly… informative.” Counselor Grady had to dig a bit for the right wording, but his cheerful tone never wavered.

Counselor Payton swooped in without missing a beat. “Gia, I believe that brings us to you.”

The next member from Lava Cabin was the most visually striking, though not for traditional reasons. Standing well past six feet tall with bright blue skin that appeared hardened in several places, Gia’s human features could still be discerned – they were just mixed in with something else. Dark hair cascaded down either side of her head, framing the mandibles poking out of her jaw.

Despite the oddly shaped mouth, her words arrived entirely unaffected. “Gia Tache, not honestly sure what my favorite dessert is anymore since my tongue got warped, and I feel like everyone can take a pretty good fucking guess what my power is.”

“It’s not about what we can see. It’s about what you’re willing to share.” Counselor Payton was unfazed by Gia’s sudden aggression; no doubt she was used to that emotion in newly made meta-humans.

Although the large blue woman stared down her counselor for a long moment, she eventually crossed her arms and continued. “Fine. The asshole who lived one apartment below my family was working on some sort of splicing machine using creatures and aliens he’d assembled through the years. When the damn thing exploded, he died instantly, but we were all just close enough to get effects. Everyone else got cool powers and a small feature or two, like my Dad’s compound eyes or my sister’s horns. Me? I got turned into a living monster.”

Once the rant was out of her, Gia seemed to lose her steam, deflating and sinking as deep into the plastic chair as she was able.

“We appreciate your candor,” Counselor Grady said. “Not every power is easy, nor do they all come peacefully. Working through our limitations and origins is a large part of the process that starts here. Cam, if you’re ready, I believe that’s your turn.”

Storm Cabin’s most loquacious member was already on his feet speaking, but Rick’s gaze lingered on the form of Gia. If his power didn’t contain the endless potential of magic, if he weren’t adept enough to manage his shapeshifting, her struggle could very easily have been his.

Except that Gia’s true form was much, much less horrifying than Rick’s. A form he truly hoped the world would never have to witness.

6

Cam sitting back down jolted Rick out of his reverie, just in time for Counselor Payton to signal Lava Cabin’s final member. “Starbeam, would you kindly close out our cabin?”

The camper in question was clad in flowing fabrics, her wavy hair adorned with a handful of flower-themed barrettes. Her smile was tranquil and beaming, the sort of expression that naturally drew people in.

“It would be my great pleasure.” Rising from her seat, she surveyed the room before speaking again. “Greetings to you all. I am named Starbeam Moongift. My parents were into something of a cult when I was born, hence the name, though now they’re both podiatrists. My favorite dessert is the humble snickerdoodle, and my power came to me during the dimensional events, much like Rick.”

Starbeam held out her arm, and an utter horror leapt out of her shadow, circled the room once, and landed upon the extended limb. It might have been mistaken for a crow at a glance, if crows were the size of guard dogs with warped and twisted beaks that resembled drills, framed by six pulsating dark eyes on either side of its head. That was to say nothing about the wicked claws that appeared as though they should be shredding poor Starbeam’s skin.

“The whole story is a long one, but essentially my friends and I were attacked by a horde of creatures like my nethercrow here when I got trapped in a locked room with one. Fortunately, I managed to befriend it, and just before getting yanked back home, my new companion laid an egg. When I tried to touch it, the egg vanished into my body, and I thought that was it until Mr. Friendly Feathers here hatched last week.”

The nethercrow, as Starbeam had named it, released a powerful caw that caused several members of the room to wince. Rick definitely wouldn’t have chosen a name like Mr. Friendly Feathers for the terror before him, but Starbeam plainly had her own way of doing things.

“Thank you, Starbeam… and Mr. Friendly Feathers.” Even Counselor Payton seemed put off, though she relaxed visibly when Mr. Friendly Feathers flew back into Starbeam’s shadow.

“That leaves us with Lucas, if you… would…” Counselor Grady let his words peter out as Lucas stood from his seat, walked over briskly, handed the older man a sheet of yellow paper, then sat back down in his chair.

After reading it over, Counselor Grady nodded. “Ah, I get you.” Hopping up like a camper himself, he smiled at everyone staring.

“Hello everybody, my name is Lucas Lanford, and I’m currently unable to speak due to my newly gained power. I have the gift of super-strength, gained from falling into a vat of unknown chemicals, but it is not yet controlled enough for me to do many things, including speak. I am happy to be here, though, and eager to get to know you all. My favorite dessert is carrot cake.”

A round of applause rang out, for Lucas as much as the process as a whole. Generally speaking, few people especially liked the process of doing icebreakers, but it didn’t make them less effective. In the span of minutes, Rick felt more informed about his fellow campers, and even a sense of kindship with several.

“Excellent work, everyone.” Counselor Payton and Counselor Grady both stood from their chairs, but it was the former who spoke. “I know it’s not easy, opening up to a group of strangers about these elements that we’re still coming to terms with ourselves. Luckily, you all won’t be strangers for long with activities like this one. But that’s probably enough talking about our powers for now. How about we put them to actual use with a camp activity?”

“Which is my cue to go over how our little cabin competition works.” Counselor Grady hopped in immediately, making it clear that these two had done the routine many a time. “Now here’s the part a lot of people have trouble wrapping their heads around. While we’re competing with each other using the point totals, the only person you can defeat to earn those points is… yourself.”

Once again, as soon as Counselor Grady’s voice faded, Counselor Payton was waiting to pounce.

“We’re going to cycle every camp activity several times through the week. On each occasion, your only goal is to do better than before. The more you improve, the more points you can earn. Learning about your powers and how to wield them is the surest path to victory, and that tasty slice of extra cake.”

“Couldn’t someone just tank their first round intentionally to puff their score?” Doug pointed out.

Counselor Grady had a knowing smile locked and loaded. “They could, assuming they were starting camp with such a high level of control. And it’s not unheard of for something along those lines to happen. But cabins win or lose together, so one camper’s score can only make so much difference. Besides which, most folks here are more interested in mastering their gifts than winning the cake.”

“Well, I for one can’t wait to see how I’m going to be better at floating around helplessly once all our training is done.”

Gilford smashed his phone against the concrete wall, letting out a desperate moan. Stupid damned signal-blocking tech. The area was already so remote, with such spotty reception, it had made for the perfect cover: a relay field snuffing out any signal that tried to escape, strong enough to work against even advanced tech and large enough that it even encompassed that camp across the lake.

Only now, when he desperately needed to call for help, did he realize the dangers of such a field, even if it had disabled any capacity for remote surveillance. It wouldn’t be an issue if he could just shut it back off, but those controls were in a room that was already lost.

Taking a turn down a new hall, he darted for a set of stairs, taking them three at a time as adrenaline surged through his veins. The lower levels were compromised, with many of the Prime Subject’s spawns running amok, but the central body was still contained. So long as he could get clear of the region, maybe the state to be safe, there would be plenty of time for the superheroes to come clean things up.

Explaining what caused such an event would be a more troublesome matter, but Gilford would happily choose lying to an investigator over facing the same fate as poor Darvin. Even only seeing it through the security camera, the sight had been harrowing.

Bursting through the door leading to the roof, Gilford didn’t slow for a moment, sprinting toward the waiting helicopter and feeling unspeakably grateful that his particular midlife crisis had involved piloting lessons for multiple forms of aircraft.

His enthusiasm petered out as his momentum failed. The helicopter was there alright, only it was absolutely covered with the unnatural creatures that the Prime Subject had been sending out. Gilford opened his mouth, though whether to scream or barter was a mystery to himself as much as anyone watching.

A mystery that would forever endure, as the waiting creatures leapt together in unison. Gilford’s throat was torn out before he could do more than whimper, the small mercy of a quick death as his body was ripped into smaller and smaller chunks.

7

“Archery is a camp classic, and here at Camp Meet-A-New-You, we love our classics.” Counselor Grady stood before them with a bow in hand, a swath of targets to his back. “Of course, we’re not just regular campers, so there’s no need to stick to regular archery. Empower the arrows, throw them, conjure more, or just fire from a bow like normal: how you approach the task is up to you.”

“Obviously, not all of your metahuman gifts will be suitable or applicable for each task,” Counselor Payton added, standing only a few feet to his side. “Don’t worry though, we’ve got a whole host of activities planned through the week, each emphasizing different skills and situations. Everyone will have a chance to put their powers to work, I promise.”

Rick heard a barely suppressed sigh at his side. “I’d love to see how they’re going to pull that off with me.” From the way Doug was staring at his own bow, not to mention holding it, Rick didn’t expect his bunkmate had any experience with the weapon. Not that he was much better; aside from target practice at a medieval-themed restaurant once, he’d never wielded a bow in his life.

And that probably wasn’t going to change today.

“Alright everyone, one line for Storm Cabin, one line for Lava. We’ll take turns having you fire in pairs, three arrows per turn. While you’re waiting in line, be sure to watch the others as well as plan out what you’re going to do next. Remember, we’re here to learn from each other, that’s why we’re all together.” Counselor Grady clapped his hands twice in rapid succession. “Aaaaand break!”

While the messaging was a tad muddled, most of the campers realized that was their signal to form lines, and those who didn’t picked up when the others moved. Since he made no effort to hurry, Rick was near the back of Storm Cabin’s line, with only Doug behind him. Standing a few feet over were Gia, Starbeam, and Wendy, in that order.

Cam and Gia were the first ones to step up, though they were handed notably different bows. While Cam’s looked the same as what Counselor Grady had been holding, Gia’s was larger, thicker, and clearly fashioned from different materials. As Rick watched her unnaturally-shaped blue hands notch the arrow and pull it back, he quickly realized why she had a different bow.

Gia would have snapped a normal one in seconds. Maybe the very moment she took hold of it.

As it was, her arrow blasted off like it been fired from a cannon rather than a bow. While it only clipped the edge of the target, that small amount of contact was enough to tear the object up from the ground and send it spinning through the air.

Meanwhile, Cam was holding his own bow, slowly turning the same color as the wood in his grip. Once the process was finally complete, he nocked and fired his own arrow, right around the same time Gia was launching her second. While hers was another massive blast of power, this time she missed all the targets, though her arrow did find the trunk of a nearby tree and explode into shards on contact.

Cam’s shot was strong too, though there was a subtle grace to it as the arrow bobbed along before landing. It wasn’t a bullseye, but he’d struck the inner ring on a target, so nothing to scoff at.

Counselors Grady and Payton offered up applause for the effort as Cam and Gia eventually set down their bows and gave way to Starbeam and Lucas. Like Gia, Lucas was given a reinforced bow, though his creaked audibly as he drew the string back. His arrow also hurtled forward, but when it landed, the target bent inward from the force, crumpling as it caved and flew backward.

“Very impressive.” Starbeam let the compliment fly before her own arrow, which whooshed lightly through the air and landed right next to the bullseye. “Mr. Friendly Feathers isn’t much help with a bow, but I used to practice archery with my grandma.”

Lucas, as usual, kept silent, though he did offer a congratulatory nod.

Both finished out their round, though neither made more impressive shots than their first. Lucas seemed to get markedly worse, in fact, as if he were purposely missing the targets after obliterating one of them.

Again, the bows were set down as the line shifted and Rick found himself at the front of the line. He made no motion to pick up the weapon, though neither did his Lava Cabin counterpart. Rick glanced at Wendy, who was staring at him with similar curiosity.

From the bucket of arrows where everyone had been drawing, three projectiles floated upward, hovering near Wendy’s head. One by one, she sent them hurtling forward, each one slamming into the near-center of their target’s bullseye.

It was a damned impressive display, and Rick stared in appreciation for several long seconds. The speed, power, and precision were all excellent. If this was the kind of control Wendy had after only recently getting her power, she’d eventually be a force to fear.

A small part of him felt longing for the power set so similar to what he’d nearly gotten for himself, but it was a tiny piece indeed. For all that it cost him, Rick loved wielding magic already, and he was barely scraping the surface of its potential.

Whether it was months of near-solitude manifesting or something as simple as a teenager showing off for someone fetching of the opposite sex, Rick beckoned the arrows up from the bucket with a single motion, then pointed to the targets. Like Wendy, his arrows all went racing off, however all three of his shots were fired simultaneously.

They also exploded on impact.

Even Rick flinched at the sudden series of booms that echoed across the archery field. His magic had a habit of being exceptionally… potent, if Rick didn’t keep it on a careful leash.

Noticing that Wendy was sending him a look he didn’t know how to parse, Rick flashed her what he hoped was a bashful-yet-proud smile, then moved to retake his place at the back of the line. As he did, he passed Doug, who was staring at the archery field with unmasked dread.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, now I have to follow that?”

8

After archery, the pair of cabins had moved onto what was called “craft therapy,” where each camper was encouraged to make art that expressed how they felt about their powers or the process of obtaining them.

Rick folded a bunch of clay into an abstract shape and called it a day, Cam proved himself to be an apt painter, Lucas shattered a reinforced whittling tool before also moving onto clay, and Doug whipped up a paper mâché head with a frowny face. There wasn’t a chance to see everything Lava Cabin made, though he did catch sight of Gia working with the pottery wheel.

From there came a long hike in nature and “casual chat time,” which sure seemed a lot like the counselors asking everyone open-ended, probing questions designed to get them talking. No one aside from Cam hopped in much, though Starbeam did chime in occasionally as well. Neither Payton nor Grady appeared surprised by the reticence, especially given that it was only day one.

By the time they were back from that, it was time to rejoin with the other cabins for dinner, which proved to be mostly prepared food heated up in an oven. The overdone burgers made Rick immediately homesick in a way he hadn’t been ready for. Even in his training isolation, Ivan had been around to keep him well fed. The adequate yet not enticing food was a sharp reminder that he was out here on his own, away from everyone and everything he’d known.

That thought sent a ripple through Rick’s control, one he instantly caught and smoothed into nothingness.

He could do this. It was the first step toward returning to society, so he had to do it.

Nevertheless, Rick only ate his sides for the remainder of dinner, leaving his burger untouched.

It was just as the meal was winding down, bowls of pudding being passed around, that Counselor Kaiden took the floor. His bright blue wings flapped once, and suddenly everyone’s attention was on their counselor’s smiling face.

“I hope everyone has enjoyed their first day at Camp Meet-A-New-You. While today has been abridged since it’s our arrival day, tomorrow you get the full camp experience!” The rest of the counselors let out a round of cheers and claps.

“But that’s tomorrow, and we’re still living in today. Once dinner ends, you’ll all officially be cut loose into free time. Feel free to use the camp facilities, practice for games, talk with your fellow campers, or seek us out for some one-on-one counseling. We know not everyone wants to speak publicly about their gifts or challenges, so please know we’ll all be available until everyone turns in.”

Message delivered, Kaiden scooped up a bowl of pudding and a plastic spoon for himself, digging into the gooey treat as he walked over to rejoin the other counselors.

Cam wasted no time, leaning forward on his elbows and nearly knocking over his own bowl of chocolate goop in the process. “Alright Storm Cabin, what’s the plan?”

Lucas, as usual, said nothing, though in this case it was because he was focused on his own dessert. Doug, conversely, was happy to chime in. “I feel like I’ve got a good hour of wallowing in me, followed by maybe thirty minutes of cursing any gods I can name for how stupid my power is, then… I dunno. Maybe s’mores?”

“I could do s’mores,” Cam concurred. “Probably not so much the other stuff. You really hate floating that much?”

“Floating is fine, in a vacuum.” Doug’s spoon flicked around as he gestured to other campers around them. “When you stack that up against horror bird, material mimicking, mind powers, magic, super-strength, or a kickass alien body, though, the failings become more apparent.”

“Holy hell, stop with the whining already. At least you don’t look like a god damned freak.” That voice caused all of them to jump, which in Lucas’s case nearly caused his legs to crash through the top of the table, as it burst from Gia at the next table over.

She swiveled around, her unnatural form moving with abundant grace and control. “Your power sucks? Get the fuck over it. It could be so much worse. You’re still you. You can walk down the street without people staring, pointing, or turning to run away. You might even be able to find a date – all you have to overcome is that bummer of a personality, instead of being physically repulsive.”

The rant had clearly had not been all about Doug, but the ire had come his way regardless. Rick expected to see his bunkmate wither under such direct assault, yet oddly, Doug seemed largely unruffled. He sat calmly as Gia said her piece, snuck in a bite of pudding, and then responded when she was finally done.

“For what it’s worth, the love life situation isn’t as dire as you might think. Lots of guys appreciate a powerful woman… blue skin, claws, and all.” Then, in a display of confidence Rick wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it for himself, Doug winked at Gia before departing the table to put away his tray.

Gia herself was left flummoxed, watching Doug as he swiftly exited the building. She opened her mouth, looked at the rest of Storm Cabin, then shut it and turned back around.

Although the conversation slowly picked back up around him, Rick took a page from Lucas’s book and remained largely silent. His attention continually flitted to the hunched form of Gia shoveling down food and trying to ignore any eyes upon her.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it was to live like that. While his body had been fundamentally altered far more than Gia’s, Rick could still masquerade as his old self. Guilt settled heavily in his stomach, though not for any true crime. It was the unfortunate discomfort of seeing someone bearing a burden that he too should be carrying by all rights. If his change hadn’t unfolded in the precise way it did, if he hadn’t shown a knack for transformation magic, if his father didn’t have a spell book from another world… so many ways Rick’s life could have broken differently.

Polishing off the last of his pudding, Rick brought the empty bowl up to the bussing station and made his way out from the dining hall. A bit of crisp night air would hopefully settle his stomach.

And frankly, after a day of socializing following months of near-solitude, Rick found himself desperately craving some alone time.

9

Walking through the campgrounds by himself, Rick was able to appreciate the natural splendor more easily. During the day, his mind had been occupied with observing the others, keeping careful control over himself, and a fair bit of general anxiety about everything going incredibly wrong.

Alone, for better or worse, had become Rick’s natural state during his months of isolated practice. Having Ivan as his predominant company hadn’t helped matters much; the man was an excellent trainer, but far from what anyone would call chatty. He’d expected dipping his toes back into socialization would be vexing only for all the metahuman aspects, entirely forgetting his own existing hindrances and hangups.

Before the powers, Rick would have considered himself a thriving member of the world’s background. He wasn’t especially popular in school, nor was he loathed, and he did have several good friends to hang around with. The areas where Rick excelled were all academic, which limited the amount of attention paid by his peers for any accomplishments. In short, he’d seen himself as a smart, amiable enough guy who almost everyone would forget about after graduation.

Now… now, Rick was magic.

Which meant he was just about anything besides forgettable. Especially if the others had an inkling what Rick actually looked like these days.

The subtle twang of a bow firing snared Rick’s attention. It wasn’t a sound he’d have recognized earlier, but after the archery lessons, he couldn’t mistake it for anything else. Working his way toward the target field, careful to approach from an angle that wouldn’t put him in any arrow’s path, Rick found Doug standing next to a bucket of arrows, drawing and firing one after another.

None of the shots were especially good. In fact, a fair majority of them had missed the targets entirely, just like Doug’s attempts earlier in the day. Yet as Rick watched, one by one, the arrows were landing a bit closer to where Doug was aiming.

Rick couldn’t say why he stood there, watching the young man fire again and again without success. There were certainly more aesthetic options with so much natural beauty around. But on he watched, until Doug reached the final arrow in his bucket. Drawing it back, he took his time finding the target before at last letting fly.

It was a bad shot, that was immediately clear from the projectile’s wobble. Wiggling through the air, it skewed wide, though not as bad as many of the other attempts. With a final shimmy, the arrow landed at last, burying itself on the far edge of the target. It was as close to missing as a hit could be… but it was a hit.

“Oh yeah!” Doug screamed, and Rick himself let out a whoop of cheering. That noise caused his bunkmate to suddenly spin around, apparently only now realizing he hadn’t been alone. “What the hell, man, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Seriously? I’ve been here for a while, did you not notice?”

“I was kind of focused on the task at hand.” Doug gestured to the barely lodged arrow with a distinct glow of pride. “Since my floating obviously isn’t going to get any better, figured this was my only shot for improvement.”

Rick shook his head. “You don’t know it can’t improve, it’s a little early to give up already.”

“Beg to differ there, buddy. I’ve put my power through every test, evaluation, and variable assessment I could find records of, and each and every one of them gave the same results. Nothing, nada, the great zilcho.”

Doug set down the bow and held up his hand with the fingers curled around into a circle with space in the center. “Some powers have lots of room to improve or evolve, others don’t. By all accounts, my power is what it is. So if it isn’t going to get stronger, then my only hope of being a cape is if I become more capable.”

To that, Rick wasn’t quite sure what to say. Given that he was in the opposite situation, holding back a power that was all too happy to show its value, it was hard to imagine feeling penned in by what was meant to be a gift that offered more freedom. In a way, Doug had it worse now than before he’d gained abilities. At least when he was human, he could dream of one day being granted amazing powers. Now that he had the floating, that was it.

Metahumans didn’t change abilities. At least, not easily or safely.

After several seconds of mental digging, Rick finally selected his reply. “That really sucks.” It was far from profound, but the words were certainly sincere.

“It does,” Doug agreed. “But I probably still shouldn’t have been complaining quite so much, especially around someone who’s coming to terms with her own changes.”

“Feeling bad about Gia?”

“Yeah. I think I’ll find her and apologize after I pick up all these arrows.” Doug started forward, bending over almost immediately to grab the cluster of arrows from what had been truly bad shots that landed only a few feet in front of him.

By the time he looked up, the rest of the arrows were already glowing softly, as one at a time they lifted themselves through the air and then landed back in the bucket. Doug turned to find Rick lowering his hands and sporting a bashful smile.

“We’ve only got so much free time tonight, no sense in wasting it.”

Together, the duo headed back toward the center of camp, leaving the temporarily enchanted arrows to finish cleaning themselves up.

Had they lingered in that spot until the process was completed, their view across the lake would have shown them the blocky grey building known as the Healthtastic Harvest Corporation rupturing like a bursting wound. From within came a gush of movement and splashes as what was festering inside spilled softly into the waiting lake.

10

Although they were headed back toward the camp’s main grounds, the sound of voices pulled Rick and Doug off course. Following the echoes of conversation, they trekked up a small path and discovered the rest of Storm and Lava Cabins all hanging out around a massive bonfire.

The sight of it struck Rick dumb for a moment, as he knew something was off yet couldn’t quite pin it down.

Doug, on the other hand, caught on immediately. “They’ve got a big-ass holographic fire, huh? That’s pretty neat.”

Like a puzzle piece sliding into place, Rick felt a sense of relief as the vision before him suddenly made sense. The lack of heat from the flames or smoke drifting upward were both big clues that would have led there eventually. He was so used to thinking in terms of magic, remembering that oddities had other explanations sometimes took a bit of mental effort.

Closing the final distance, they arrived at the bonfire and joined the in-progress conversation.

“—had the nerve to ask me if I’d been ‘hiding these talents’ during our season last year. So I popped him in the chin, no powers mind you, just me, and now the little prick is trying to paint me as a ‘danger to the school’. Fucking assholes are all around.” Cam mimed spitting into the false fire, enunciating his point.

Although they couldn’t be entirely sure of the subject that had been in discussion, Rick could make a fair few guesses based on what he’d overheard. Ivan had warned Rick many a time that while the law protected meta-humans on a large scale, it would do little to stop the daily slights from humans who harbored ill-intent. For some, it was simple jealousy, while others carried a grudge from what metahumans had done to or taken from them. A few were just determined to hate anyone different from themselves, and that included people granted spectacular abilities.

It was one of the reasons Rick had elected to look fully human in his second transformation: so he could remove himself from that sort of conflict preemptively. Knowing himself, and the power he now wielded, Rick didn’t trust himself to make the restrained decision in such circumstances.

Whatever unhappy topics had been in play were quickly rendered moot, however, as Doug stepped forward. “Since you’re already talking about assholes, that seems like fate giving me a cue. Sorry if I’ve been insufferable about my power today. It’s hard not to feel disappointed when you know everything that you could have gotten versus what I can actually do, but Gia was right. A lot of powers have real drawbacks, things worse than just not being very cool.”

The scratch of paper signaled that Lucas was etching out a reply, and no one stole the moment by speaking up. At last, he lifted his sheet of yellow paper, displaying the response for all to see. “Perspective is hard to find when seeing only through our own eyes.”

“Lucas is right,” Gia concurred. “It’s possible I also might have come at you a little harder than necessary back at dinner, so I’m sorry too. I just… I miss my old body. Which feels so stupid, I didn’t even really like my old body. I had a bum knee from a bike accident as a kid, godawful eyesight, and a nose that was way out of proportion for my face.” A clawed hand traced along her face which, aside from the blue hue of her skin and the sharpness of her teeth, was well-shaped and symmetrical. “But it was mine. Now it’s all gone, and sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m really me anymore.”

That sentiment echoed deeply in Rick. Coming around to his transformation had required clearing many a mental hurdle, including wrapping his head around what it meant to be a thing that was so utterly inhuman. He still felt like Rick Gerhardt, still thought like himself, but if the other campers could see his true appearance, none would be sitting calmly around this fire.

For her part, Gia appeared to notice she’d shared a bit more than necessary and tried to recalibrate. “Anyway, it’s fine. We’re all adjusting to this crap and figuring our shit out. You even tried to be nice with the fake flirting.”

“Oh, that wasn’t fake at all. Being bold enough to tell off a stranger is a level of self-confidence I’m very much down with, and you’re a cerulean smokeshow on top of that.” Once more showing far greater confidence than in his meta-human aspects, Doug grinned at the stunned Gia as he took a seat at one of the log benches around the holographic fire.

“What about you, Rick? Magic seems like it would be all upside, but every power comes with a cost. Some people have even been unkind to Mr. Friendly Feathers, can you believe that?” Starbeam stroked the beak of her horrible monster bird as it perched next to her on their bench; no one had elected to share space with the shadow beast whose feathers looked razor-sharp.

Taking his own seat, Rick briefly debated how much to share, before realizing that this particular question could be answered honestly. “While magic has no immediate drawback, there’s a certain level of stress and terror when wielding that kind of power. I have to be careful, and I mean careful every time I cast. If I’m not focused on my intent, if I don’t account for cascading effects, if I… if I fuck up, it’s so easy for someone to die.”

“I get that. God damn, do I get that.” Wendy waved her left hand and a few twigs rose off the ground. “I started with objects when I got my power, and everything went well. Added in lifting myself and that was no problem either. Then, a few days in, I was walking home from the store and I saw a squirrel running from a fox. It was losing ground fast, about to be eaten, so I decided to help the little guy. I learned a lot that day.”

Without warning, the twigs all shattered, tumbling to the ground as little more than splinters.

“I learned my power is more forceful if I’m hurried or panicked. I learned that objects and creatures have different levels of durability. I learned that I can inherently balance forces at work when it’s on my body, but with others it’s much harder to use just the right amount of power. And I learned that squirrels have a surprising, disturbing amount of blood.” Wendy paused, making a single motion and casting all of the splinters out into the woods.

“In the grand scheme of things, it was just a squirrel, one about to die anyway. But I was literally on my way home to fly my little sister around when it happened. She’d begged me for days, I was finally feeling confident enough to try, and I just kept thinking… what if I hadn’t seen that squirrel?”

No one had an easy answer to give, because the truth was equal parts obvious and undeniable. Wendy had been one mishap away from the sort of tragedy that breaks apart entire lives. After a few moments of strained silence, Starbeam hopped up, mercifully sending Mr. Friendly Feathers into her shadow as she did.

“Perhaps it’s time we sought out some fresh energy. We should have enough time to grab our swimsuits and hit the lake for a bit. Nothing like a cleansing in nature’s springs to wash out the negative energy.”

“Hell yes, I could absolutely go for a swim after that hot-ass hike,” Cam concurred. “Any objections?”

Had the campers any idea what had spilled into that very lake, there most certainly would have been a great deal of objections. Instead, Cam was met only with enthusiasm as everyone scrambled back to their bunks to change.

11

Changing should have been a simple matter, and in truth it largely was. The prevalence of so many bathrooms allowed for those who wanted to put on their suits in private to do so, though some, like Lucas, didn’t bother with such modesty.

Rick actually split the difference, not bothering to use a restroom while casting an obfuscation around himself that made everything nearby seem blurry and indistinct. No, it wasn’t the actual task of putting on a swimsuit that caused him trouble.

It was the ring resting on his finger.

Surely the tech inside was waterproof. Ivan would have absolutely mentioned if it had to be kept dry. So he could wear it along, like he was supposed to. Rick just wasn’t sure he wanted to. The ring felt like having his father there, peering right over his shoulder, ready to hop in at a moment’s notice if things went awry. Overbearing as that sentiment could have been, Rick actually found it quite comforting.

The trouble was, Rick didn’t want comfort right now. He was here to challenge himself, to simulate stepping back into the real world. Maybe Ivan would always be there if he was needed; the man was certainly powerful enough. But the real question Rick found himself mulling over was whether or not he wanted to feel so dependent.

For his age, Rick was quite mature and intelligent. That said, he was still a seventeen-year-old at the end of the day, prone to making the impulsive mistakes of youth. Slipping the ring off, he tossed it onto his pillow where it would be easily spotted upon his return.

With the ring removed, Rick found he felt lighter overall, which he took as a good sign. Just in time, too, because the others were all ready to head out.

The trip to the lake was quick, all of them keenly aware that time was ticking down and eventually they’d have to tuck in for the night. Determined to make the most of their free time, the residents of Storm Cabin half-jogged their way across the campgrounds to the edge of the property, where a glimmering body of water waited.

It was lovely in light of the sun starting to set, hues of orange and red reflected off the gently shifting water. Splashes rose up from the shore as Storm Cabin discovered that Lava Cabin had arrived first. They had an eclectic array of outfits, unlike the boys who all wore trunks. Starbeam had donned what looked like an old-timey bathing costume from black and white movies, Gia was clad in some sort of heavily reinforced unitard, while Wendy had selected a competitive-swimming-style one-piece.

In an unexpected rush, Doug ran ahead, sprinting to the edge of the waterline and then leapt for all he was worth. The momentum carried him onward as he floated upward and out over the water, nearly reaching a floating platform some ways offshore. At the apex of his leap, Doug suddenly dropped like a stone, evidently choosing that moment to turn off his powers.

The splash of his cannonball landing was noteworthy, and considerable.

Although those already swimming yelped and cursed, Lucas and Cam were dashing forward to mimic the stunt. Cam leapt a few feet out, whereas Lucas’s jump caused a blast of sand as he shot upward like a rocket, flailing his arms around in visible distress. From his vantage point, Rick could see Wendy raise a hand to mentally catch him, then hesitate.

Considering her squirrel story from earlier, there was little need to guess at what was going through her head.

With a wave of his own arms, Rick slowed Lucas’s ascent and gently lowered him back down toward the water, receiving a very grateful expression as he did. Manipulating objects was fairly easy, even with two transformations compounding the effort, and Rick set his cabinmate down with a minor splash.

“Appreciate that!” Cam called.

Rick gave a wave back, realizing that he was the only one out of the water. With a quick dash, he raced forward, taking a jump into the water himself. It was nowhere near the display Lucas had put on, but he did get more distance than Cam. No one came near Doug’s record, though, who had swum over to that platform rather than the shore to recover.

Since it seemed as good a destination as any, Rick started toward it as well. Even with the shifts in shape, it was remarkable how well his body moved since the transformation. What would have once been a series of uncoordinated splashes flowed from one motion to the next as he easily cut through the water. Before he knew it, Rick was nearly bumping his head into the platform, though he managed to haul himself up instead.

“Hell of a leap.” The words fell upon a limp Doug, sprawled against the wooden surface.

“Had to make an impression somehow. And since Lucas looks like a damn sculpted statue, it wasn’t going to be with my physique.” Although Doug wasn’t in bad shape, the best descriptor Rick could find for his frame was “spindly,” which was indeed a sharp contrast to the chiseled bulk of Lucas.

“I don’t know if that’s a fair comparison. Dude has meta-muscles, none of us are competing with that.”

Splashes from behind snared Rick’s attention; the rest of the group was heading to join them out on the platform. They wouldn’t be long, but weren’t quite there yet, which Rick greatly appreciated when Doug spoke up once more.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Speaking of making impressions, though, I’m sure you were focused on Lucas during the save, but Wendy sure looked pretty impressed by that stunt.” Raising a hand, Doug made a finger gun, then clicked his tongue while winking. “I think you might have a shot.”

Of all the things he’d come to camp prepared to grapple with, the idea of romance had sincerely not occurred to Rick, proving he was more his father’s son than he realized. The very notion was both scary and thrilling, causing his heart to thud heavily for a reason that had nothing to do with magic, secrets, or transformations.

It was almost certainly a bad idea to focus on, and a distraction Rick very much didn’t need, but Wendy had a smile that lingered in one’s memory. At least, it was hanging around in Rick’s.

By the time the others arrived at the platform, Rick was no closer to any conclusion on what, if anything, he should do. He felt befuddled, uncomfortable, and alive all at once. After months of focusing on nothing but his powers and problems, it was actually a nice change of pace.

12

The afternoon swiftly bled away their remaining time in what seemed like only moments. As they splashed around the platform and lounged on the wooden surface, the sun sank steadily lower on the horizon before finally vanishing entirely. Mechanical lights all around the shore clicked on to compensate, casting the entire area in a sharp halogen glow.

Rick spent his last few minutes of relaxation alongside the others, lying flat on the platform and staring up at the slowly appearing stars. Once, he’d dreamed of space, going so far as to hope for a career at NASA. That inky dark mystery had called to him, beckoning with tales of unknowable potential.

Having his body violently transformed and gaining access to magic had centered Rick’s focus on terrestrial concerns, yet he found the stars still held a sense of wonder. Whether it would define his life the way he’d once planned was impossible to know at this juncture, like so much stretching before him.

But it was still nice to gaze up at the sky and appreciate how much remained vastly beyond his grasp.

Unfortunately, time marched forever onward, and Cam’s waterproof watch betrayed that their free hours were coming to an end. “We should probably start swimming back and towel off. It’s a bit of a hike back to the cabins, and getting in trouble on the first night feels like an ominous start.”

Together, the metahuman teens all rose to their feet, preparing to leap back into the lake. As they approached the edge of the platform, however, Starbeam suddenly staggered, eyes going wide as her mouth opened and closed without a bare hiss of sound escaping. Most of the others failed to notice Starbeam’s condition, but one of them was paying closer attention than the rest.

“Stop!”

Lucas’s voice sent most of his fellow campers staggering alongside Starbeam, who took the audible assault surprisingly well. His call of caution even rattled the boards underfoot. As everyone collected themselves and turned a curious eye in the muscular young man’s direction, he gestured to Starbeam, who’d fallen to her hands and knees.

“Oh shit! Are you okay?” Wendy was at her side in moments, helping hold her cabinmate upright.

It took nearly a minute before Starbeam was able to respond, her eyes kept skimming along the surface of the water frantically, like she was searching for something.

“I… it’s nothing physical. My connection to Mr. Friendly Feathers… it lets me share some of his senses. He’s got a sort of danger warning, instinctual thing. I don’t know if it alerts him to anything potentially deadly or just predators nearby, but I do know it spiked like crazy the moment we started toward the water.”

Doug, who had been near the very edge of the platform, scooted several steps forward, glancing over his shoulder as he did. “Well that’s just god damn terrifying to hear. Any ideas on what might be in there? I mean, we all swam over like half an hour ago.”

“Couldn’t say. Just that everything in me screamed I would die if I went in.”

The cheerful mood aboard the platform swiftly soured as everyone joined Starbeam in searching the seemingly calm waters.

After several moments of silence, Rick realized no one knew what to do next. He’d been waiting for someone in charge to take the lead, but this was new ground for all of them. Of the entire group, Rick had the most experience with his abilities, though that didn’t mean he was the best suited for their particular dilemma.

“This platform has to be anchored somehow, otherwise it would drift away. Wendy, can you lift the anchor, unlatch us, or anything like that? If so, we should be able to move the platform like a raft back to shore.”

Wendy peered at the edge of the platform as she chewed on her bottom lip. “Umm… maybe? Is there a reason you can’t do it?”

“I’d need to see what I’m looking at to cast anything. I was hoping psychokinesis wasn’t as limited.”

With one last glance toward the water, Wendy turned her focus back to the platform they were all perched upon. “Guess we’re about to find out.” Her eyes narrowed along with her focus, until they shut entirely. Wendy’s hands pressed hard into the planks of wood, shifting slightly as she occasionally muttered to herself.

It was only when the platform lurched that they had any indication of how things were going. Leaning back, Wendy let out a long breath. “Guess I don’t need to see, but it’s a real son of a bitch to do without a visual target.”

“You’ve got a hell of a gift.” Rick lifted his own arms, magic already flowing. “Grab a rest, I can take care of directing us back to shore.” His magic seized hold of the raft just as it had Lucas only a short while earlier, willing it to move slowly and steadily back to the shoreline.

They weren’t exactly motoring across the water, though that was by design, as Rick didn’t want to risk tipping over their makeshift raft. Bit by bit they drifted closer, the peaceful water lapping gently at the side. Through it all, Starbeam sat staring at the lake’s dark surface, a handful of stars reflected in the choppy dark mirror they glided across.

When the first arm burst from the water and grabbed hold of the platform’s deck, everyone was too stunned to react. Despite Starbeam’s warnings, a part of them had all assumed that whatever was in the water would stay in the water, a presumption whose flaws became abundantly clear as the soggy green creature pulled itself into full view.

At first glance, it looked like a mass of seaweed and vines gnarled together. But as it shifted, the hard, dark edges of sharp roots could be seen under the foliage. To call it humanoid would be a stretch, the dense legs most closely approximating a kangaroo and the six rippling arms placed haphazardly around the center of its body. Strangest of all was the head, which looked like an enormous Venus flytrap, save for the rows of sharp root-teeth that were visible whenever it opened.

The spell of disbelief only lasted until the lake monster was fully on board and took its first step closer. With a horrifying caw, Mr. Friendly Feathers burst from Starbeam’s shadow, carving through a swath of the creature’s torso with a single swing of his horrid wing.

His strike caused the monster to stagger back, its maw opened in a silent scream. All around them, the water began to thrash and churn as more vegetative forms rose closer to the surface.

Rick gulped and tried to hurry their raft along as fast as he dared. Confident as he felt in his magic and overall abilities, that was a lot of monsters.

13

“Oh shit, I don’t think it’s dead.” Doug’s declaration shot through the assembled group, who’d all been staring at the suddenly active waters around their platform. He, on the other hand, was gazing at the monster that had emerged and was now missing a fair chunk of its torso.

Glancing over, Rick found the creature was indeed still moving, still standing, actually, as the vegetation that was its flesh worked to regrow. Evidently unsatisfied with his work being undermined, Mr. Friendly Feathers swooped down from the sky. Rather than slice into the monster this time, his twisted beak was like a dagger, piecing in deep.

When it emerged, there was an oddly-colored fruit at the end of his beak. It was bruise-purple with a touch of bile-yellow in the form of occasional spots and had countless small sprouts growing across the surface. As those sprouts tore, the monster itself convulsed, eventually collapsing into a pile of lifeless plant matter.

As if for good measure, Mr. Friendly Feathers smashed the stolen fruit on the deck, releasing an odor that was absolutely foul.

Cam let out a whistle. “I’ve never been much of a bird enthusiast, but I think I’m coming around on Mr. Friendly Feathers.”

Gia had a more pronounced and, all things considered, reasonable reaction. “What the fuck was that! What the hell is in the fucking water! What is going on?”

“From what I can tell, we’ve got an outbreak of plant-based monsters who are capable of potent regeneration but have a fruit within their body that serves as a weak point. Probably an assload of them. The monsters, not the weak points.” Of all people, it was Doug who calmly broke down the situation. He seemed to notice the confluence of stares in his direction, offering a slight shrug. “Told you guys I was really into metahuman shit before the change. Can’t read up on that without reviewing a bunch of situations like this one.”

Whatever responses they might have summoned were lost as another green, mossy hand slapped down onto their raft, followed by a second at the opposite end. Two of them were boarding this time, on different fronts, no less. But the metahumans on board were no longer shocked into stillness.

With an almost casual gait, Lucas walked over to one of the monsters and grabbed hold of a limb, ripping it off like he was plucking a flower. The monster tried to fight back, but Lucas easily blocked its clumsy strikes while his free hand tore through the torso, gouging out chunks with apparent ease. Although it didn’t take him long to find and squish the hidden fruit, over half the monster was ripped away by the time it collapsed.

On the other side of the platform, Cam had touched the raft to take on a wooden form, which he was using to tank hits from the remaining monster while Gia slashed and stabbed into it with her claws. Although they lacked Lucas’s brutal, raw power, the duo were only a few seconds behind him in finishing off their foe.

Having three of the fruits now smashed in close proximity was making the smell impossible to ignore. As Rick gagged on the stink, he kept his mind trained on the task at hand: moving their platform. Unfortunately, progress was stalling. Despite him increasing the speed, they were going slower, and Rick had a hunch their underwater adversaries were responsible. Something was pushing or pulling against them, and the force was growing steadily stronger.

Rick could overpower it, but doing so in this form might prove tricky. Especially since one mistake could send his entire crew tumbling into the waiting water. It seemed like the lake monsters were hoping to have the confrontation on their home turf rather than swarm the raft. And if someone didn’t come up with a solution soon, he feared they were going to get their wish.

“Hey Wendy, how much can you lift?” Doug had been wandering the raft, staying close to the center but sweeping the entire square and their surroundings. “Like, with your brain, not on a bench press.”

“I… I don’t actually know for sure.” Wendy scratched her head and pursed her lips in a way that Rick had to actively focus not to be distracted by. “A lot, I’d guess. I’ve picked up a small car for a short while and while I felt the strain, it wasn’t unbearable.”

“Cool. Think you could manage a platform of people?” Doug pointed to the violently churning water around them. “I’m pretty sure we’re working on limited time before they either swarm us or just pull the raft apart. Maybe we go airborne to⁠—”

Doug’s plan was cut off by the sudden lurch of their raft as it jarringly changed directions, moving away from the shore and out to the lake’s depths. All eyes turned to Rick, who was lowering his own hands and poorly masking his own shock. “Something is pulling against me. Something strong.”

It was mighty indeed, and also far less concerned with keeping the platform stable. Rick quickly shifted tactics; rather than vainly struggle against the powerful force, he turned his attention to keeping them upright.

“Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit.” Wendy staggered to her feet, swaying as the raft picked up speed. “Um… okay. There was a chain with an anchor at the bottom and I unhooked us from the anchor, so whatever is down there probably grabbed us by the chain. If we can disconnect that, we should hopefully stop moving.”

She wobbled her way across the accelerating raft until dropping down with a sense of purpose. “Here, this is where the chain connects to the underside. It’s really secured on there, though, I’ll need a minute to get us free.”

Before she could do more than stabilize herself and narrow her focus, Lucas strode over and put his hand right through the wood. A slight splash echoed out as a length of chain sank into the depths, and suddenly their wayward raft was no longer speeding across the water.

Unfortunately, the time they’d spent being dragged had pulled the metahumans a sizable distance from the camp’s shore. Far enough that getting back would be a chore even under ideal conditions. And working their way through a lake infested with plant monsters was not what Rick considered ideal conditions. Although the water around their new location was momentarily peaceful, he didn’t imagine it would stay that way for long.

“Over there! I see a strip of shore.” Gia was pointing out over the lake, and Rick realized after blinking a few times that was indeed a section where the landscape shifted and the shore jutted out. It wasn’t anywhere near the camp, but it was easily the closest place to make landfall available.

Not daring to hesitate, Rick seized hold of their platform with magic once more, this time putting a heavier emphasis on speed. The monsters seemed to be aquatic based, so hopefully once they were ashore it would just be a simple matter of hiking their way back to the camp.

As he magically moved them along, Rick’s eyes were inevitably drawn to the empty space on his hand where a ring was meant to sit. If they could get back to Storm Cabin, Rick could summon reinforcements capable of leveling any threat.

He just hoped the camp would still be standing by the time they arrived.

14

Marching through the grass toward the lake, Counselor Grady debated on what sort of tone to take with the campers. On the one hand, they were absolutely breaking curfew, but it was only the first night together. This was far from the first group to get too distracted and forget to track the time. Nevertheless, rules were rules, so some form of punishment would need to be handed out.

As he crested the small hill near the lake and its dark waters came into view, any thought of reduced dessert portions flitted away as he found the area empty. Movement from his rear caused Grady to spin around, expecting to find the kids had somehow circled him, but instead he found Counselor Payton trudging steadily closer.

“Lava Cabin missed curfew too?”

“Of course. If one of the older cabins is getting into mischief, you can just about be sure the others will be right there with them.” As Payton reached Grady’s side, she too realized what was wrong with the scene before them. “What the heck? I know they went to get suits and headed over here.”

“My cabin did the same.” With no other great leads to explore, Grady trekked down closer to the lake, hoping to spy some sign of his charges. While they wouldn’t be the first to go wandering off the camp’s grounds, it was always a major hassle. Those were the sorts of mistakes that couldn’t be reprimanded with a half-dessert at dinner.

As he drew closer, something did stand out to him, though Grady couldn’t put a finger on what. Only that the longer he stared at the lake, the surer he was there were some elements that felt… off. Just before he reached the shore, Grady’s feet halted in midair as realization finally came crashing down.

Half-turning to Payton, who was only a few steps behind, Grady motioned to the waiting water. “Didn’t we have a big floating platform out there?”

“Last I checked.” Payton followed his hand’s direction, pointing to only the lake’s rippling surface. “That’s definitely weird.”

“No kidding. Hopefully whatever happened left a clue behind.”

Grady resumed his trip forward, foot stepping into the gritty, soft dirt that functioned as sand for their lakefront beach. The moment his toes touched down, the water began to churn. From the bubbling chaos, three humanoid figures dragged themselves onto land. Formed of vines and vegetation, their multiple arms were each tipped in claws formed from roots, their heads like enormous Venus flytraps.

Despite the sudden appearance of three inhuman creatures before him, Grady remained calm. “Excuse me, I don’t suppose any of you have seen a cluster of campers around here?”

None of the creatures answered, unless lurching forward and snapping their head-mouths in obvious excitement counted as a response.

“Incapable of speech, or unwilling?” Grady appeared to tilt forward, like he was about to tumble in the dirt, then he was gone. Unlike true super-speed, what Grady accomplished was a mix of incredible agility, pinpoint precise movement, expert technique, and a momentary surge of boosted acceleration.

Any metahuman with sustained super-speed capabilities would never be fooled; however, to the lake monster who found a hole in the center of its chest, the effects were more or less indistinguishable. Grady had stopped a few feet beside it, the fruit from which everything else sprouted plucked and resting in his hand. With a perfect windup, he hurled the disgusting fruit against a nearby tree, where it splattered like a rotten apple.

As the first monster collapsed, Grady was already facing the remaining two. “Now then, let’s try this once more. Do you unwanted interlopers have anything to offer about the whereabouts of my campers? Because, if you haven’t figured it out, being put in charge of a bunch of newly-turned metahumans comes with fairly specific job requirements. One of which is having the capacity to handle trouble, should it arise.”

Despite his warning and offer, two monstrosities were already turning to attack, so Grady struck first. They were moving the fruits around inside their bodies, but the effort was slow and clumsy. Grady could easily track the sounds of the shuffling, tracing each fruit’s locations as his deft hands cleaved through the hearty hunks of vegetation trying to hold him back.

Before either had turned around, their fruits were plucked and tossed against the same tree, whose bark was looking stained.

“We think the kids fled from the monsters?” Payton had made her way over at a casual pace, visibly unconcerned by the threat she faced.

“Makes the most sense. If the platform was destroyed, we’d see debris, and there are no signs of combat along the shore. Probably got broken off from the anchor, maybe by the monsters themselves. We need to go get Kaiden: this calls for eyes in the sky.”

Grady scanned the area around them once more, from the tree covered in nasty fruit goop to the lake’s waters, which were bubbling and churning again. Preparing himself for another fight, Grady started to step closer to the water, but yet again found his foot pausing in midstride.

It was not three figures that rose up from the waves this time. At a glance, the count was closer to thirty, and a glance was all Grady got before the next group breached the lake’s surface. Then another, and another.

Hundreds of the creatures stared back at him from the lake, all of them slowly and steadily sloshing their way forward. None were quick, and not a single of the monsters dashed ahead, yet Grady felt instantly encircled all the same. There was trouble, and there was trouble; part of being in charge meant knowing the difference and reacting appropriately.

“Ohhh shit.” Grady’s suspended foot swiftly reversed direction, taking him away from the shore as quickly as it could. “This is bad! We have to switch to lockdown protocols and get the kids in the bunkers.”

“I’ll alert Madison and Harper, you get to Kaiden and Prescott!” Payton was already sprinting ahead, and at a blistering pace, by human standards. Some might have taken her immediate fleeing as an act of cowardice, but Grady appreciated the act for what it was: duty.

They had an obligation to protect the campers in their care. Thankfully, no one had considered building a camp for budding metahumans without ample layers of protection, so they should be able to ride out even an army of monsters until help arrived.

Grady just hoped the older campers had made it somewhere safe, ideally far from camp, considering the grounds were about to be overrun by monsters.

15

By grace, fortune, or speed, the group of teen metahumans made it to dry land without any incident.

Unfortunately, it was only after scrambling off the platform that they took a moment to examine the strip of land offering salvation, and where it connected to the main shore. The small peninsula stretched back to the beach; however, it was the beach on the opposite side of Camp Meet-a-New-You. Meaning they’d have to trek away from camp before they could circle back and start toward it.

The fact that the first part of that trip would be surrounded by water where monsters were known to dwell certainly didn’t help matters. There was enough land to walk side-by-side without issue, but not so much that they could ever be fully out of sight from either side of the dark, lapping water. As they started forward, everyone’s eyes combed those sloshing depths, waiting for a sign that trouble was rising.

Rick, for his part, was dedicating roughly equal parts of mental effort to watching for danger and mentally berating himself about taking off the ring. It had seemed such a small thing; after all, he was in a camp full of trained counselors and security features. But that was rather the point of unexpected chaos – it came when one wasn’t prepared. He’d been caught off-guard by it more than enough times to realize such a simple fact, but after becoming a metahuman Rick had become… arrogant?

Maybe, though it felt more akin to confidence. After training with his father and hunting the various alien creatures on their isolated planet, Rick was far more certain in his ability to survive than prior to the change. Even now, he wasn’t afraid for his actual wellbeing. It was more a matter of how many secrets he could keep, and if the others would come through unscathed.

A situation he wouldn’t have to fret over if he’d just kept the damn ring on, but there was no helping it now. Part of Rick felt responsible for the others’ peril, knowing they’d have already been saved if he’d shown slightly better forethought. Which, in turn, sharpened his determination to see them all out of this safely.

A yelp from Doug had everyone tense up, turning the same direction he was staring just in time to see a fish plop back down in the water from its brief leap. “Sorry, saw movement and just reacted.”

“No worries, man, I’m so keyed up I’d have done the same.” Cam turned back toward the side he’d been watching, just as a trio of vegetation monsters were slinking onto the shore. “Fucking sneak attack! We’ve got incoming!”

While the others hesitated, uncertain of whether to run or fight, Rick took advantage of the fact that he was no longer occupied magically moving an unstable platform across unfriendly waters. With a minor exertion of will, a firm visualization, and a call to his magic, Rick summoned spears of stone from the sand, over ten rocky weapons impaling their would-be attackers at once.

Of all the strikes, only one found the true target, sinking deep into the fruit hiding beneath the soggy green mass of a body. When it did, however, Rick’s magic showed one of its more distinct properties. Using the life energy within the fruit as fuel, the spell echoed its original casting, summoning another ten stone spears out of the sand.

Although he’d used it in his first fight as a metahuman, it wasn’t until training with Ivan that Rick learned most magic didn’t automatically feed on its victims to self-replicate. Given how similarly it functioned to an aspect of Ivan’s own power, they took it to be a quirk of genetics or whatever force had passed down echoes of Fornax. Nevertheless, it was a handy trick, especially when dealing with multiple opponents.

Of the ten new spears, a single one hit home again, triggering another attack. This time eleven of the summoned strikes manifested, hinting that the second monster had been slightly stronger than the first. That alone meant little, but Rick was surprised to find they had variance. He’d assumed they’d all be uniform in strength and skill, an assumption that might very well have gotten them into real trouble at the wrong moment.

Somehow, despite looking like a seaweed pincushion, the third lake monster’s inner fruit had avoided being skewered. With a mildly annoyed sigh, Rick debated going for something flashier before remembering he had an audience. Deciding it was probably best to show as few tricks as possible, Rick conjured up one more swarm of sand spears, punching through what little remaining space there was on the foe.

This time Rick struck true, though he didn’t allow the magic to echo. With no more targets to strike, the most likely outcome was accidentally hitting one of his fellow campers.

It was only after turning to the others that he realized that from the outside, it looked like he’d just cast the same spell four times in the span of roughly five seconds. Rick’s time training with Ivan had focused a great deal on combat, coming in second only to control. Attacking, checking for survivors, and clearing them off all came as reactions now. Reactions he might need to tamp down if Rick wanted to keep playing at being a regular teen with a bit of magic.

To the others, it essentially looked like he’d unleashed a storm of magic to obliterate three threats.

“Whoa.” Gia’s mandibles wriggled as she took in the scene. “You, uh, you really fucked them up there.”

“Yeah… I might have freaked out and gone a bit overboard.” Rick turned his head downward and did his best to look sheepish, not a hard trick given how silly he still felt about the left-behind-ring issue.

“Probably a good thing you did. I froze the hell up,” Cam admitted.

Wendy silently surveyed the damage for a long moment before piping up. “If we’re going to be under attack the whole time, we should figure out a formation. Physical attackers rounding our ranged people for defense. So that’s Gia, Cam, and Lucas on the perimeter, with me, Starbeam, Rick, and Doug in the center. I wish we had a fourth to put on the outside, but⁠—”

“We’re happy to help!” Waving her wands, Starbeam called forth Mr. Friendly Feathers, who flew out of her shadow and perched on the nearby sand. “Mr. Friendly Feathers can help guard the perimeter.”

Although she gave the nightmare bird a wary gaze, Wendy eventually nodded. “Four inside, four outside. Doug, if Cam or Lucas tosses you up high, think you can get us a better bearing of our surroundings?”

“Sure. These things don’t seem to fly, so the air is the safest place to be.” Doug started toward Lucas, then suddenly shifted his path toward Gia. “On second thought, let’s work our way up the strength scale. My power doesn’t protect against freezing or oxygen deprivation if I go too high.”

16

After Gia hurled Doug up into the air, Rick’s buoyant bunkmate floated back down with mixed news.

They weren’t too far from the mainland, but the angle they were walking at took them steadily further from camp. By the time they reached land, they’d be almost perfectly opposite their destination. The one upside was that Doug had noted the Healthtastic Harvest Corporation building wasn’t too far from where they would end up. The fact that the angle of their approach blocked his view of the side that faced the lake seemed a minor detail barely worth considering.

Surely a facility of that size would have staff around even after hours, enough to help them call for capes.

There wasn’t really any discussion about the shift in plan; no one particularly wanted to hike around a monster-infested lake rather than let the superheroes swoop in and handle business. Besides which, getting the capes here as fast as possible was the best way they could help the others.

Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones moving.

By the time Doug touched down on the sand once more, two more groups of vegetative monsters had risen from the lake. One was torn apart by Lucas alone, while Mr. Friendly Feathers, Cam, and Wendy took care of the second. Already, Rick could see the subtle churn of the water that hinted more were coming closer.

“Let’s move!” He attempted to lead the charge down the strip of land, only to be passed swiftly by the more athletic members of their group. Thankfully, they all fell into the rough formation Wendy had outlined, adopting a pace that allowed for constant progression everyone could match.

Barely ten feet down the peninsula, a quartet of monsters emerged from the water on their left, with another trio appearing on the right.

Wendy’s voice rang out clear through the warm summer night. “Ranged forces, attack!”

It was a good call to action, though light on specifics. Since Wendy didn’t actually designate who should go after what target, there was something of a pileup on the quartet. Starbeam directed Mr. Friendly Feathers to fly over at the same time Wendy unleashed a wave of psychokinetic force at one unsuspecting monster.

In her earlier story of the squirrel, Rick had been imagining some poor woodland critter with blood dribbling from its mouth and rolled-back eyes. Watching as the monster Wendy targeted absolutely exploded into a sloppy green mess gave him a new sense of empathy for the trauma of the experience from both her end and the squirrel’s.

Sadly, that wave of green ichor splashed across Mr. Friendly Feathers, who swerved wide and only managed to slash one of the other creatures across the arm rather than rip out its core. Having held himself back to see where cleanup was most needed, Rick turned his focus to the trio that had been approaching undisturbed. They were still far enough away that he could unleash properly destructive spells, and Rick had just the one in mind.

A streak of dark lightning flew from his hands, sinking into the first of the trio and seizing the life energy within its central fruit. Two more bolts burst out from the already disintegrating corpse, flash-cooking the monsters flanking it on either side. When those fruits had their life energy harvested, Rick directed the resulting magic-lightning to flow down into the water itself.

Across this large a body of water, he was unlike to harm anything more than a passing fish. But if there were any other creatures nearby, there was at least a chance of catching them in the spell-echoes. Since the energy would go to waste anyway, it was a risk with no downside.

A risk that paid off at that, as he felt his magic sink into another of the fruits only a few inches before the surface. Apparently this group had been trying to conceal its full breadth of members, as two more monsters exploded from the augmented electricity, lighting up the lake in a rather lovely display.

Twisting around to the other side, Rick hurried to warn the others. “They’re not all above the water. Some are laying low!”

His call came only a few moments before the remaining pair of the original quartet made landfall, right along with three other monsters that had been traveling below the water line. The hidden creatures rushed forward in an unexpected sprint, catching most of the group off-guard.

The exceptions were Mr. Friendly Feathers, who’d likely sensed a threat to Starbeam, and Gia, who rushed forward and clotheslined two of the approaching trio. While she was able to bash them back, Gia lacked Lucas’s overwhelming power, so there was minimal damage done. The two quickly recovered and advanced on her while Mr. Friendly Feathers harried the third, trying to get a clean shot with his beak.

Cam was already rushing in, still in his wooden form borrowed from the platform’s materials. He essentially threw himself on top of one of the monsters to buy Gia some breathing room. On the right side of their footing, Lucas was busy with two more monsters that had been far enough away to avoid Rick’s assault.

The fight was already precarious, and with his allies engaged in melee battle, Rick couldn’t risk throwing a spell into the fray. Releasing one layer of his transformation would unlock a tremendous amount of combat options, but Rick recoiled at the idea of losing one of his biggest secrets after fewer than twenty-four hours after reentering the world at large.

Granted, he expected one day to have to reveal that form; in fact, the shape had been crafted with that very purpose in mind. Just maybe not on his first night as an open metahuman.

Before Rick was forced to choose, the monsters started exploding. First the one Mr. Friendly Feathers was fighting, though this time he was able to avoid the geyser of gore. Then Cam’s erupted, followed by Gia’s. Lucas’s were the last, though those were on their last tendrils anyway.

When the systematic slaughter stopped, Wendy was panting and glaring at the lake with a gaze that welcomed and invited all challengers, quivering hands held out before her. “Guess I might… have overdone it too.” Taking a step forward, she staggered, though Gia was quickly there to offer support.

Whether that rush had been all the nearby monsters or Wendy’s display was giving other attackers second thoughts, the onslaught from the water came to a halt as the teens hurried forward. When they finally crossed off the peninsula and onto proper shore, a ripple of relief spread through the campers.

Although their night was far from over, it was hard not to feel optimistic with the lake no longer surrounding them. All they should need to do was hike over to the Healthtastic Harvest Corporation, make a phone call, and the Alliance of Heroic Champions would arrive to sort this whole mess out.

Together, they headed toward the blocky gray building, unable to see the hole in its side thanks to the angle of their approach.

17

Thanks to Grady and Payton’s quick reactions, the rest of the camp was rapidly alerted and gathered in the same main cabin where they’d had dinner, only this time they were directed to the basement. From there, Counselor Harper had tapped a series of inconspicuous bricks and a deep freezer slid aside, revealing a dense metal door. Through that they found more stairs leading farther down, though this was not a mere basement that awaited them.

Sleek, metallic, and reinforced from every angle, the bunker under Camp Meet-A-New-You had been designed to withstand just about anything one could conceivably defend against. It wouldn’t stop someone on the level of the Champions’ Congress, because there was no defense against that level of force, but it could handle a great deal.

Once the campers aside from Storm and Lava Cabins were all accounted for, the counselors gathered in a monitoring room to assess their current situation. And what a situation it was indeed.

Monsters swarmed across the camp, originating from the lake and oozing their way across the property, smashing and attacking any living entity they encountered. So far that had amounted to nothing but woodland animals and a low-flying bird who died incredibly surprised. However, it was clear to everyone observing that the swarm was converging toward a single point.

The main cabin they were hiding under.

“Do they know we’re here?” Counselor Madison wondered aloud. The usual violet hue of her skin was currently more a dull plum, her version of going pale with worry.

“That, or they’re making one hell of a guess,” Counselor Becket concurred. “Kaiden, you activated the emergency beacon, right? Feels like the superheroes should be here to deal with this by now.”

Counselor Kaiden nodded, though his expression didn’t appear especially hopeful. “I did, but it reacted strangely, lots of crackles and buzzing. My phone did the same. I’m guessing that either the monsters have a distortion effect, or it’s being caused by something else. Either way, I’m not sure we can count on reinforcements.”

“How long would it take that many monsters to break through?” Counselor Payton asked the room at large. Against a certain level of effort, all defenses eventually crumbled. That didn’t make their bunker worthless by any means, just that they could count on it for only so long.

“If it were only that many, we honestly might be okay.” Counselor Grady pointed to the video feed showing the same beach where he’d fought the first round of creatures. “They haven’t slowed down the pace of invasion, though, not a bit. Every minute that passes, more of those things flood the camp. We have no idea what the final tally will even be, let alone how long they’ll need to find us and claw a way in.”

The weary, sad sigh that slipped from Counselor Harper’s lips encompassed all of their feelings well, as they all understood the implications. She was merely the first to put them to words.

“We have to go stem the tides and slow them down.”

“I’ll go,” Kaiden volunteered. “With my wings, there should be minimal risk.”

Grady raised an eyebrow. “You saw that bird earlier, right?”

“I’ll keep a high altitude.”

“Not without me on the ground keeping a watch for ranged dangers,” Grady countered. “Those slow-moving mooks are never catching me. Besides, I’m better suited to the open environment than being penned in here if it comes to a fight.”

Harper nodded. “By that logic, I should join the outer force as well. In here, I’m more danger than help.”

“Three to guard the kids and three to distract the monsters. Feels about right.” Kaiden gave the monitors another glance, then motioned to Grady and Harper. “We should hurry; they really are endless out there.”

Rushing back up the stairs they’d entered through, the trio sealed the hidden entrance behind themselves and ran through the main cabin, emerging in a campground overrun by monsters. The creatures’ sole redeeming feature was that they seemed minimally interested in property damage. While human invaders would be smashing things to cause chaos and fear, these plodded perpetually forward, unconcerned with anything other than their hunt.

The moment the counselors stepped into the open, it was like a wave of attention washed over the monsters. Their flytrap-like heads all twisted in the same direction, almost like a hideous, coordinated dance. Kaiden didn’t wait to find out how they would all react to the discovery, taking off into the air and snapping his wings out in sharp movements.

Blades of blue energy the same color as his wings shot forth, cleaving through entire swaths of the monsters. The majority quickly began to reform; however, several had lost their central fruit to the attack, and those dissolved into gooey mush.

For her part, Harper produced a viola and bow that appeared to have been formed from glimmering water from truly nowhere. When she began to play, music swelled around her, so dense and powerful it warped the very air. The strands of her swelling symphony reached out, tenderly at first, then with more gusto as the tempo picked up. When a monster reached those probing strands, it was immediately seized by a twisting timpani that tore it into shreds, never stopping until the fruit was pulped. Each creature who followed found the same fate awaited them.

Grady had no fancy tricks to take out entire sections of the battlefield, so he threw himself into the task the old-fashioned way. Weaving his way into and out of range for monster after monster, he snared and smashed fruits with a rhythmic precision, carving out a small area that was soon nothing but oozing remains.

Taking a moment to reassess the battlefield, Grady felt his heart sink. Between the three of them, they’d done a serious amount of damage and scoured over a hundred of their foes in the first onslaught. Trouble was, in that time it looked as if roughly a hundred and fifty more had lumbered in to take their place.

It was like trying to hold back an ocean. A slow-moving one, granted, but sooner or later it would reach and breach their defenses. Preparing to dive back in, Grady wracked his brain for some tactic that might turn the tabl⁠—

“Pardon me, are you Grady Sanders?” The voice came from behind Grady, who spun around in shock to find a man standing several feet away. His dark hair was windswept and his outfit rumpled, but his eyes were practically alight with excitement, despite the dire situation around them. Tapping a creased sheet of paper, he added, “Number seventy-four on UnofficialSpeedMeta.Com’s ranking of the fastest known metahumans?”

The situation was so stunning that Grady found his head nodding confirmation, unsure of what the hell else to say.

A smile flashed across the man’s face like a bolt of lightning. “Fantastic. Could I trouble you for a race?” He stepped closer, and for the first time Grady noticed the strange man was wearing bright silver shoes. “After we clear out some room to run, of course.”

18

It didn’t take more than a few moments to realize all was not right with the Healthtastic Harvest Corporation. For one thing, the lobby was unlocked and largely unlit, with the facility appearing to run solely on emergency power. Only the sharp glare of red bulbs offered any form of illumination.

Their next tip-off was the generous amount of blood they found smeared across the floor of the first hallway the group ventured down.

“Nope. Fuck this. Let’s get out of here.” Doug was already backing up, heading toward the lobby. “I’ve seen more than enough horror flicks to know that checking out the bloodied hallway is precisely when the weaker members of the group start getting picked off. Seeing as that weakest member is me, I hope you all understand why I am gone.”

He made it halfway across the lobby before Cam’s voice came, the man’s usual cheer suddenly subdued. “There are monsters out there too, you know. Only without walls, there’s nowhere to hide from them.”

Doug’s confident exit came to a swift halt, though he didn’t immediately return to the group. “This feels like a damned if I do, damned if I don’t situation.”

“Says the guy trying to make us split up,” Gia pointed out. “For someone who claims to know the genre, that’s a rookie-ass move if ever there was one.”

Like a balloon deflating, Doug’s shoulders sank as he turned around and glumly strolled back over to the group. “Guess I’m hoping this is the sort of situation where the comic relief survives.”

“Why? Lucas is the comic relief.” Starbeam said the words with such unwavering conviction, no one quite found the heart to debate her, even if they weren’t sure what she meant. Lucas, for his part, looked confused but happy by the comment.

Once silence managed to take root for the span of several seconds, Rick piped up. “We need to make a choice. Dig in here, run for camp, or try to escape elsewhere. Standing around in the lobby – the lobby with glass walls, I’d like to remind everyone – isn’t helping us long-term. Whatever we want to do, we have to pick that course of action and stick with it.”

The words sounded experienced, because they were. They just didn’t belong to Rick, not originally. He was essentially repackaging his father’s advice about what to do in a chaotic, unpredictable situation. One of the most important lessons was to simply do something. A bad plan might fail, whereas a plan no one tried would always fail.

Beyond that, having a goal kept everyone focused and minimized the chances of panic setting in. It didn’t necessarily guarantee success; however, it offered an opportunity. Something they wouldn’t get if they allowed themselves to give up before the fight was over.

“I vote we stay here,” Wendy announced. “There’s some power, so it’s not impossible we’ll find a phone or way to call for help. We’ve also got a chance of actually bunkering up with some walls, especially if we can find anywhere fortified.”

“It’s a health-food company,” Gia reminded her.

“Company being the operative word. Whether it’s industrial secrets or spare cash, these places usually have something to protect.”

Doug pointed to the door they’d opened, and the bloody scene lying behind it. “Hunkering down doesn’t seem to have worked great for the people who worked here.”

“I’m willing to bet those workers didn’t have metahuman powers to fight back with,” Cam countered. “Besides, we don’t know for certain there aren’t any survivors. This is a big building and we’ve seen all of one hall.”

Gia let out a sound somewhere between a hiss and a buzz. “God damn it. Now that you’ve said that, I feel like we have a responsibility to at least check for anyone who might still be alive and needs help.”

Between logistics and ethics, it was steadily becoming clear that they wouldn’t be leaving the Healthtastic Harvest Corporation any time soon. Although there was a bit more piddling about, they eventually all chose another hallway and headed down it, this time mercifully not greeted by bloodstains within their first steps.

What they saw instead was a boring, milquetoast workspace with two actual offices and then a bunch of open tables. Evidently Healthy Harvest Corporation had embraced the open-office concept, which was also known as the “watch all your worker bees constantly” setup. Nothing here seemed particularly amiss; each station was neatly tidied up and shut down like a normal workday had wrapped.

“I guess whatever got in here came after hours,” Rick surmised after scouring the scene for unseen blood and coming up empty. Nice as it was, they still hadn’t found what anyone might call a defensible position. The offices here were just wood and plaster, nothing that would stop a horde of monsters, even if Rick enhanced the materials using magic. “Where to now, though?”

“Up.” Wendy pointed to a set of stairs in the corner. “If this place has any kind of panic room or vault, it will be near the executive suites, and those are always on the higher floors.”

“Done a lot of temp work, I take it?” Gia quizzed.

“Uh, sure.” While Wendy’s tone made it seem unlikely that was the real answer, no one bothered to press her on the issue considering their circumstances. Instead, they followed her advice and trekked several levels up the stairs, only stopping when they reached an electronically sealed-off door.

Upon seeing the lock, Rick began working through his spells to consider what would be the best for opening up such an obstacle, only for Lucas to simply push his hand through the metal material and rip the lock out entirely. He swung the door open casually, glancing at the others with a satisfied smile.

That proved to be a painful mistake.

From the side of the door came a flash of green as a huge vegetation creature plowed into Lucas, trying to bowl him over. It was similar to the ones they’d been fighting, but immediately distinct. Aside from the size factor, which was double compared to its peers, this version had more of the roots woven through and across its body. The result was a sort of fibrous exoskeleton that thickened and flared in places to resemble actual armor.

And yet despite all those enhancements, it still couldn’t overpower Lucas, who held his footing and shoved right back against the beast. Unlike its predecessors, however, this one didn’t merely allow its body to be ripped into. A surge of vines burst from its arms, winding their way across Lucas’s arms without trying to snare.

Instead, those green seaweed-serpents slithered up Lucas’s nose, twisting themselves into a blockage in his throat and cutting off the mighty man’s air supply.

19

Cam tried to rush forward, only to catch a backhand that sent him spinning through the air and slamming into a nearby wall. Had the young man not turned his body to wood earlier, his bones would no doubt have shattered. Even as it stood, several of the creaks that rose from impact were quite concerning.

The group hesitated, collectively unsure what to do. They of course wanted to help Lucas, but this monster was proving to be far more dangerous than the others. It was fighting them off to finish the kill and had enough power to potentially hold them all back. But doing nothing meant watching Lucas suffocate, then likely getting picked off next.

Without warning, the section of vines connecting the monster to Lucas exploded, huge chunks of the monster’s pseudo-limb ripping away. A second blast tore off a piece of leg, and Wendy nearly toppled to the ground, caught only thanks to Starbeam. “Sorry… still wiped from earlier. That thing is a lot denser than the others.”

It might not have been an instant kill, but the momentary break was enough to let Gia swoop in and scoop up Lucas, hauling him away from the monster. While that was several steps in the right direction, they unfortunately still had hunks of living plant matter choking a friend from the inside. Scanning the room, Rick tried to discern if anyone could help. Wendy was the only other viable candidate, the better choice between them in truth, but he couldn’t ask her to attempt such delicate work in her current condition.

Which meant Rick was going to have to help out, and his method wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Lucas! Look at me, try to nod an answer if you can. I’m going to destroy the plant in your throat, but I need to know for sure: this strength comes with enhanced toughness, right? Your body has to be able to withstand the force you’re throwing around.”

Lucas’s eyes widened in naked terror, but he lifted his hand and held it flat, parallel with the ground, then began to shake it side-to-side. A universal sign for “kind of” that was not the reassurance Rick had been hoping for.

Gia dashed back over to the monster, which was now rushing over toward Wendy, having somehow identified the one person able to wound it. A dive attack from Mr. Friendly Feathers forced the monster off-course as it leapt to avoid that wretched beak, giving Gia time to catch up and slash into its torso with her claws. The swipe ripped out a chunk, but it was already healing over as Rick turned back to his patient.

They couldn’t hold that thing back long. Rick scoured his memories of Auro’s spellbook, willfully skimming past the many sections on manipulating flesh, and tried to recall a spell that could destroy the plants fast without killing Lucas. But given that the man was losing color in his face, speed became the more important factor.

Guiding Lucas’s head back, Rick had him open wide, then reached a few fingers in and grabbed hold of a piece of aggressive green mass. Pulling it was pointless, the bit he had would simply tear away. With enough time, he could wrap it in magic and yank the same way he’d moved their platform, but between the angry monster and depleting oxygen, that wouldn’t be happening.

Steeling his mind and marshalling his control, Rick willed a small spark of his magic into the gunk. It was less a true spell than willing his magic to flow through a new material. But this magic had a purpose, a goal that had been added when it was imparted: destroy all plant-matter. Such a nebulous and unstructured directive wouldn’t have worked against the monster itself, but when its arm was severed, the vines inside had become nothing more than the same sludge every one of those creatures rotted into once their fruits were burst.

Without a will to fight back, the green goop could do nothing as Rick’s magic tore through it, using the residual bits of energy to fuel more destruction. Pulling his hand back quickly, Rick still nearly lost a finger as Lucas started to cough and hack, falling over and sucking in harsh, ragged breaths.

Although their strongest member was saved, he wasn’t back in fighting shape just yet. Checking on the others, Rick discovered that Cam was less injured than feared and already back in action. Unfortunately, he made said discovery by watching the currently-wooden camper go flying into a different wall before landing in a heap.

Although the others’ harassing tactics had kept the monster distracted, it wasn’t without cost. Gia was limping, favoring her left leg, with a still-panting Wendy tossed over her shoulders. Starbeam had a nasty gash down the side of her right arm, with Mr. Friendly Feathers now flying protectively in circles around her. Even Doug appeared roughed up; there was swelling near one of his eyes and the start of bruising along his shoulders.

In a flash of cold, calculated understanding, Rick realized that someone was going to die. This version of the monster was beyond what the group could handle. Given that they were a cluster of largely untrained metahumans who hadn’t even gotten to practice with their powers, it was downright incredible they’d done so well up until this point. They’d just stepped beyond their capabilities, an outcome Ivan had warned could happen all-too-easily.

Their physical powerhouse was recovering. Wendy was tapped out. Rick’s usual arsenal of offensive spells were definitely out; between the enclosed quarters and the proximity of everyone to the target, it was less a risk of friendly fire and more a question of how many would be cooked.

But using magic under these conditions wasn’t impossible – just far more than Rick could manage in his current form. It demanded a level of control he lost thanks to the complications of transforming.

Much as he’d hoped to hold it back, saving a secret that was meant to be spilled at the cost of watching people die wasn’t something Rick found he could stomach. Especially when said people were rapidly growing on him, likely in part due to the constant near-death experiences.

Dashing forward, Rick allowed his body to shift. Breaking out of a transformation didn’t require any effort of will; it was rather the opposite. Intentionally holding a transformation was akin to constantly tensing a nerve: uncomfortable, bothersome, and even a tad painful at times. All he had to do to break it was let go.

Powerful hands covered by a clawed gauntlet of extruding bones tore apart the monster’s vegetative body like dried leaves. Pulsing eyes tracked not one, but three, fruits twisting and roaming through its body. More of the dark bone armor covering Rick’s torso and shoulders shredded the root claws that tried to counterattack. One word fell from the mouth of white, square, inhumanly sharp teeth.

“Wither.”

It was as if someone had slurped all the moisture right out of the monster. The entire thing crumbled to dust, leaving the one who’d slain it covered in a thin layer of green powder. Giving his increased stature, muscle tone, and the array of horns now lining his forehead, the sprinkling of green was the least strange thing about Rick’s current appearance.

A fact reflected in the shocked stares of his fellow campers.

“So, uh… I might have left a few things out when we did our ice breakers.”

20

“…when I learned how to shapeshift out of this form and kind of never looked back.”

The rest of the campers observed Rick’s new form in open shock, tracing the enhanced height, musculature, and natural armor. His skin was a deep red flirting with purple with dark veins bulging beneath, and a rhythmic glow pulsing through his red eyes.

Doug reacted first, striding over, looking Rick up and down, then throwing his face into his hands. “This… is… bullshit! Are you kidding me? Are you god damn kidding me? It’s not bad enough I pick a bunkmate with magic, but he’s got a fucking second form! A muscle-bound, tall, eye-turning second form! Rick, I say this with love, but I hate you. I hate you so much. If I had a metahuman power that solely allowed me to hate, it wouldn’t be enough to encompass this feeling.”

“You’re being a bit dramatic,” Cam chided.

“Excuse me?” Doug’s head flew out of his hands as he wildly gesticulated toward an increasingly bashful Rick. “His magical muscular demon form comes with an eight-pack and cum gutters. I am being exactly the right amount of dramatic.”

That earned a few semi-disgusted looks and several titters. Were Rick able to blush, he would have, realizing this form might have gone a bit overboard on aesthetics.

His first transformation was something of a compromise. Unlike his purely human form, this was meant for actual combat. In order to maximize its capabilities, Rick had to keep this one closer to his new true body. The fewer changes he made, the less power reduction it would cause. Knowing that certain aspects of the aesthetic were unavoidable, Rick had worked to mold them into a shape was less distressing than his original.

There were a lot of muscles, though. Smart or not, Rick was still a seventeen-year-old boy.

Scuffling drew Rick’s attention to Gia, who was now looking slightly up at him thanks to the transformation. Her own inhuman eyes carefully took in his new shape. “That shapeshifting magic… can you cast it on other people?”

The half-smothered hope that still shone in her words made it all too clear what she had in mind. Much he hated it, Rick had to bury that hope a bit deeper.

“I’m sorry, but not yet. Shapeshifting others is a lot harder than changing yourself; there’s no feedback to know if you did something wrong. I’ll need a lot of practice to safely manage something like that.” Or another transformation to loosen his limits, though that part obviously went unspoken.

The words hit Gia hard, yet she barely flinched, taking the blow with a deep breath and a nod of her head. “Someday is better than what I had five minutes ago, which was this forever. Guess I better make sure you survive all this.” Gia paused, dusting some of the green dirt from Rick’s dark armor. “Though you seem a lot more capable now.”

“Yeah, just how powerful are you now?” Doug poked Rick in the abs, then waved his finger as if it were sore.

After a day full of careful half-truths, Rick was relieved to get a question he could answer with complete honesty. “A lot. Transformations demand a ton of constant magic, so everything I was using for that now can be put into spells. My natural body is also notably more powerful, so I can handle things in a melee capacity as well.”

Rick felt a tap on the shoulder, and turned to find Lucas, who’d recovered at last, pointing toward the floor. His pad of paper was still back at the beach along with their towels and shoes, but the fellow muscular man had used his finger to etch a word into the tile on the floor.

Thanks

When Rick looked back, Lucas motioned to his transformed body, and the meaning became clear. Lucas was thanking Rick for exposing his secret to save the strongman. “Of course. No secret is worth someone’s life.”

“I wish more people believed that.” Starbeam’s statement was curious, largely for how genuinely sad she sounded. There was clearly a story there, but distinct banging from the other side of the door stole any chance to inquire further.

Everyone collectively huddled together in the stairwell, putting Rick between themselves and the door. After a few seconds of silence, Wendy looked over to Starbeam. “Don’t suppose Mr. Friendly Feathers is sending any insights on whether we keep going up or check this out?”

“No. He’s mostly concerned with how the creature on the other side of the door avoided his instincts. That thing was able to mask itself as any other office plant.”

“Reinforced door and a new variety of monster that’s stronger than anything we’ve faced so far. Why on earth wouldn’t we go running in at this point?” Doug grumbled. “I do think it’s the right call, for the record. I’m very annoyed about that fact, and reserve the right to keep complaining about it, but that thing couldn’t break through the door until Lucas ripped out the lock. That implies there are at least some facilities in here capable of stopping them.”

With a start, Rick realized he’d overlooked that detail. Doug was right: that the monster had been waiting right behind the door sure implied it couldn’t bash right through, and that was the strongest they’d fought by a wide margin. “Looks like we’re pressing on. Everyone, cluster in tight.”

Under Rick’s direction, the group jammed in as close as they were able. It took a bit of prompting, and Starbeam having to partially duck under Gia’s arm, but they finally managed to fill the right amount of space. Whispering the arcane utterings and tracing his clawed fingers through the air, Rick slowly walked in a circle around his fellow campers, leaving a faint red line suspended in the air.

When he’d walked all the way around and connected his line to its origin point, a flash of light twisted the world as a barrier sprang into being. It was nothing fancy and had zero power to repel. Instead, it would simply peel apart anything that tried to pass through, until it could be shredded no smaller. While not exactly the same, the spell Rick had learned in Auro’s book was incredibly similar to the one he and Beth had been placed under during the beach attack as children.

It felt strange, to be the one on the outside of the shield, looking at the terrified faces within. Rick found a sense of duty lying heavy on his heart. These people putting their faith in him to see them through, even though they all barely knew one another. If this were his family inside, his wife and two small children, what unfathomable weight would he be carrying?

Not for the first nor last time since his initial transformation, Rick understood his father slightly better.

“I’m going to move the ward with me. Regardless of what tries to get through, don’t panic. And no matter what, stay inside. The magic is directed one-way, so you can get out no problem, I just won’t be able to let you back in without redoing the whole ritual. Which I’m not sure we’ll get time for.”

Ominous warning delivered, Rick pulled the reinforced door open once more and, upon ensuring there weren’t more hidden monsters waiting in ambush, motioned for both the ward and his friends to follow.

21

Working at a camp for youths coming to terms with metahuman powers, Counselor Grady had seen a great deal. He’d witnessed challenge and triumph going hand in hand, glory and tragedy in equal measures, friendships and enmities that would last lifetimes.

But as he swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at the wasteland of monster bodies, Grady had serious doubts he would ever top this particular moment.

The hordes of monsters seemed all but endless. On and on they flowed out of the lake, trudging across the grass without pausing. That first wave was only the beginning; as reinforcements emerged, there had been more and more variants. Versions of the creatures that were huge and covered in armor. Ones who were lean and sharp, root blades poking out at all angles. Some were genuinely terrifying, emerging from the water like mini-mountains of material, they were so large.

On any other night, the camp would have been overrun several times over by now. Their defenses were solid, but not meant for siege from a nigh-infinite army. But this was not any other night.

This was the night a stranger in Ricky Rocket cosplay showed up.

Lacking true superspeed himself, Grady’s enhanced perception could only catch snippets of the effects. He was unable to track the actual action. Which meant that to his perception, a streak of crackling silver light would wash across the campgrounds and suddenly the monsters it passed were lying on the ground, turning into mush.

Size proved to be entirely irrelevant. The large ones, the lean ones, even the ridiculously enormous ones, all of them were left as hunks of dissolving goop when the silver streak shot past.

“You guys have any grub? If we’re going to race after this, I could use a refuel.” Without warning, the man in silver shoes was standing next to Grady, who stood guard outside the main cabin. Although “guard” felt too lofty a title for the work he was doing. “Witness” might have been a more accurate descriptor.

Before he answered, Grady took a moment to study the man, really looking him over. Despite his confidence and skill, the guy was young. Based on appearances, not much older than the Storm and Lava Cabin kids Grady worked with week-to-week. Although with meta-humans, appearances were a poor measuring stick in most capacities. Tan skin, blocky goggles resting just above his eyes, an effortless smile, and dark hair that was perpetually windswept.

It couldn’t be. It… it couldn’t be.

“Buddy, we’ve got enough food on hand to feed a camp of teenagers. Eat your fill; something tells me we’re not finishing out this camp like regular.”

“Much obliged.” He was gone in a flash, then out running the campgrounds moments later. He paused, holding a giant can of chipped beef, to give Grady a wave of thanks, then was back at what should have been the impossible task of holding back an entire army singlehandedly.

It had to be a… well, not coincidence. A purposeful affectation. Some new meta who got incredible super-speed and decided to ape the style of a legend. Not the first time it had happened, though how it was perceived usually depended on how well the legacy was upheld and whether the original version had any living allies to take offense.

But as Grady examined the camp once more, he had to admit that this was the sort of capability he’d expect from a legendary superhero like Ricky Rocket.

After a monster waiting behind the door, everyone was on edge for another attack as they moved deeper into the building. Instead, they found what looked to have once been an open office arrangement, only one where the desks were smashed, computers shattered, and blood stained the dull gray carpet.

No bodies, though, which Rick found peculiar. For all the blood they’d witnessed, there wasn’t so much as a scrap of flesh present. It was possible the plants were eating their victims, but it was hard to imagine how they’d be so thorough about it. Not a bone undigested, nor an ear cast to the ground, not even a sundered scrap of skin stuck to a surface. Part of him wanted to hope that there might be survivors from the attack, though there was a lot of blood.

Moving on from the open area, they stepped into what looked to be a suite of offices. Normally, a wooden wall and door would block access between the sections, but the door had been knocked down and rendered bloody, so Rick merely stepped over the fallen wooden slab to proceed. The others were following closely, though with a dash of distance in case a fight broke out.

That was the excuse, anyway. The truth of the matter was that Rick wasn’t entirely sure what to say to them at this point. He’d never intended to reveal so much so soon, especially when they’d all been getting along so well. Rick hadn’t realized how badly he missed socializing with other people his age until he’d gotten a taste for it. He liked this group, and wanted them to like him, which felt like a harder hurdle now that he had horns jutting out of his skull.

Those very horns in question proved their usefulness as the ambush Rick had been waiting for finally sprung. It was another of the larger monsters, three heads snapping and gnashing while it tried to stab into him with the sharp roots on the ends of its appendages. Since it leapt down from the ceiling, Rick used his horns to gore it right through the torso, reaching up and ripping out the three fruits it was rapidly trying to shift about.

He crushed each in his claws, then summoned a burst of flame to cleanse the residue before it could truly begin to reek. At least the others didn’t have a good vantage point for this battle. Rick was trying to hide as much of his power as he could, though it wasn’t easy after the transformation. This wasn’t the form he was supposed to be using when keeping things low-key.

The others filtered through the entrance, his warded circle warping like a bubble so they could proceed, while Rick checked through the nearby offices. There was nothing but more blood and destruction, so he didn’t waste time beyond checking to see if any phones were intact.

At the end of the hall, Rick found a barrier that made their first obstacle look like a poorly-latched screen door. It was an entire wall of metal, where the entrance looked more akin to a vault. Wendy had called it: corporations always had something to keep secret.

Since he had a few moments to wait for the others to catch up, Rick decided to get the door open. Having Lucas come out and then recrafting the ward wasted time, especially when he wasn’t needed. Using a combination of heat and erosion magic, Rick’s claws easily carved through the seemingly impregnable wall, tearing apart the mechanisms keeping the door sealed shut.

It swung slightly ajar as the others turned the corner and arrived just in time to see Rick casually shove the broken door open, revealing what, exactly, had been sealed away behind such security.

22

The room gleamed from every angle. Shiny metal surfaces that were nearly blinding… until they weren’t. Standing on the elevated platform, looking down at the lab as a whole, it was impressive how sizable this structure was. It had to occupy a solid fourth of the building overall, and it was all but stuffed with various high-tech-looking devices.

What they actually did was a mystery to Rick. In part because he’d never worked with advanced food development or packaging, but mostly because everything was covered in a layer of gore.

Blood covered the shiny walls at the base of the room, with a few splatters reaching several feet up in height. How many people had been in here was impossible to say, as all that remained was a red pulp strewn across the floor.

As his eyes continued to sweep the macabre scene, Rick’s attention fell on a sight he was certainly not prepared for in this space. Sitting there, also covered in viscera, was a massive sheet cake underneath a set of floating balloons. While the cake itself was too coated in carrion, one of the balloons remained unstained, bearing the word “Congratulations” in bright gold lettering.

The sound of splashing jerked Rick back to his surroundings, but it turned out to be Lucas losing his dinner at the sight before them. None of the others were looking much better, faces pale and bodies shaking. Rick wondered if there was something wrong with him for withstanding the sight so much more stably, before realizing he’d become somewhat inured to this sort of spectacle during his time training.

Rick’s early days in his true form were messy affairs. There was a reason they’d trained on an alien world full of murderous monsters that wouldn’t be missed.

“Well, I guess we know why there weren’t any corpses in the hallways.” Wendy tried to tack a chuckle onto her grim comment, but instead looked as if she were about to pull the same stunt as Lucas.

“It was a party.” No one was quite prepared for the amount of sadness in Starbeam’s voice, like she’d known these people personally. “They were gathered together celebrating, when something…”

She left the rest unsaid, largely because there were no words. What could commit this level of violence? Or would even want to? Hunting for food was one thing, Rick couldn’t fathom what sort of gain there was in breaking people down to blood and flesh slurry.

“God damn it. We have to go down there and investigate, don’t we?” Doug looked just as miserable about the idea as he sounded, but to the young man’s credit, he was already slowly making his way toward the stairs, waiting at the edge of the ward.

Much as Rick wanted to go by himself, or better yet not go at all, he nodded agreement. The ward circle had a limit on how far he could be while keeping it active, so exploring solo would leave the others largely defenseless. Not to mention, if anything attacked the platform itself, they’d either be hurt by the fall or scattered in the process, losing their shield.

“I’ll stay in the lead. With any luck, whatever was here⁠—”

“Behind you!” As usual when Lucas spoke, just about everyone winced. Rick was an exception, his new form no longer so easily bothered by mere sonic assault. Whipping around, he found another variant of the vegetation monsters had somehow snuck up on him. These were leaner than the other types, with a lot of curves and sharp roots perfect for slashing.

Such as the one arcing toward Rick’s neck, trying to carve through his throat. The odds that this random creature would be able to pierce his skin were minimal, but it was still a blade trying to tear open his jugular.

Momentarily forgetting where he was and who was watching, Rick allowed his training to take over.

In a flash of magic, his body leaned back with newfound agility, easily avoiding the attack while his own arm shifted into position. Rather than piss about grabbing for the three fruits twisting around within its torso, Rick jammed his fist into the creature’s center of mass and released four simultaneous spells designed to slice right through a target.

The result was that it looked as if the monster had a blender put into its stomach, shredding it from the inside out. A wash of green gore exploded across the platform, much of it sizzling away as it landed on the barrier protecting his friends.

In hindsight, that amount of magic had been severe overkill, but Ivan had made certain Rick understood the importance of taking threats to his life seriously. When death was on the line, second chances were rare. Striking hard, fast, and with overwhelming force were the ways he’d been taught to come out ahead in those exchanges.

Even if the results were a bit messy.

Looking over, Rick did his best to flash Lucas a thumbs-up while ignoring the green goop dripping off his body. “Thanks for the warning.”

Although Lucas returned the gesture, he was once more looking a touch sickly.

Rick waited for nearly a minute to see if any other sudden attackers would appear before finally resuming their trek toward, and then down, the stairs. The closer he got to the ground level, the worse the scent grew, until he finally cast a minor bit of magic to dull his sense of smell. There was nothing he could do about the sight, though, which was crystal clear thanks to this form’s excellent vision.

“Anybody want to go splitsies on a therapist after this is over?” Doug offered. “I bet we can get a group rate.” He managed to get a slight chuckle out of the others, a much-needed touch of mirth as they descended into the remains.

For better or worse, Rick’s spell broke down the biological remains just as it would most materials, sparing the others from having to step through what had once been an office building full of people. Part of him felt like that might not be okay, but then again, it wasn’t as if these people would be getting put back together for a funeral. And speaking as the one who did have to walk through the horrid remains on the floor, Rick didn’t imagine anyone else would react well to the experience.

Eventually, Rick shifted his attention from the gore-covered-floor to the room itself. From here, the machines were even more impressive, towering over even this form’s notable height. What’s more, they could now see a whole new section of the room, the part that had been underneath the platform they were standing on.

It was some sort of laboratory setup, or rather the remains of one. While much of it had been trashed in the chaos, several pieces were still intact and attention grabbing. Like the gigantic tank filled with a murky green liquid, or the myriad of computer screens flickering with displays of data. Most eye-catching of all, though, was the enormous slogan and image visible on a banner hanging at the far rear of the room.

“Introducing The Ultimato: The Unstoppable Food Source”

And pictured below those foreboding words was the picture of a fruit Rick might not have recognized before tonight, yet now knew on sight.

After all, they’d torn plenty of them out from the vegetation monsters.

23

Of all people, it was Starbeam who tried to rush forward, only to be caught by Wendy, who pointed at the barrier she was about to cross. Realizing the error, she adjusted her speed so that they could all walk over together as the ward shifted around them.

The group looked over the banners and half-melted screens, but the true treasure trove of information turned out to be a scattered set of fliers spread across the floor. Rick picked one up, then willed a temporary hole in the ward so he could pass the advertisement along, the opening snapping shut as soon as his arm was pulled back.

“The Ultimato: the world’s hardiest, most nutritious fruit,” Cam read out loud. “Bred with propriety technology, the Ultimato is designed to adapt to any environment or danger, capable of thriving under all manner of harsh conditions.”

“So it’s science gone wrong.” Doug shrugged as eyes turned toward him. “What? That’s the general term for these scenarios. Science gone wrong, magic run amok, invaders appearing. Looks like people tried to make a super-fruit and instead made a meta-fruit that grows monsters around itself for protection. At this point we just sit back and wait for them to take over the world.”

“Maybe not.” Starbeam had taken a seat on the ground, eyes closed, while Mr. Friendly Feathers was outside the ward flying between machines. His hideous claws would tap at the keyboards, usually getting only static but occasionally pulling up functional files. “Despite how it looks, these people weren’t total idiots. They realized that any plant spreading too fast would cause ecological issues.”

Gia made something like a half-growl, half-buzz in her throat. “Might want to tell that to the loads of these things we’ve seen tonight.”

“If I’m reading these reports through Mr. Friendly Feathers right, those were all sterile.” Starbeam wriggled briefly as Mr. Friendly Feathers tapped through a few more screen. “Oh… I think I see it now. They based the system on bees. Only one Ultimato is capable of producing seeds that will sprout into more, sort of like a queen bee who does all the breeding.”

“Any hints on why they built other Ultimatos to turn into tanks or assassins?” Rick asked, eyes sweeping the area for just such a threat. After the last one snuck up on him, he was trying to take nothing for granted.

More clacking from the keyboard rose up for several moments, until Starbeam shook her head. “There’s nothing about that in any of the files, or the plants sprouting bodies. I’m guessing whatever went wrong, it happened all at once.”

As Rick scanned the room, his gaze inevitably fell upon the massive murky tank of water and the small door at its side he’d missed before. With the rest of the massive laboratory covered in what could barely be discerned as human remains, it was hard to notice at first, but there were handprints along that door next to the tank. Almost like people had been trying to get inside.

Or hold back something from pushing it open.

“You all wait here. I’m not sure how the ward would handle it if you got submerged in toxic water, so I’ll check it out solo.”

“Sure that’s a good idea, man?” Doug asked. “They did sneak up on you once already.”

Rick responded with a sharp thumbs-up thanks to the gauntlet-like armor encompassing his hands. “I’ve got this. Just checking to make sure nothing will come bursting out of here to surprise us.”

Hurrying to the door before anyone else could object, Rick readied himself before pushing it open, prepared for another of the vegetation monsters to come bursting out. Instead, it opened up onto a metal walkway that looked remarkably untouched, given the chaos of the rest of the building.

Below, he could see a small section of the lake, its liquid pumping into a massive filtration system that was piped up through the tank on his left. Having passed the door, Rick gained a whole new appreciation for its size, now able to see how far back it stretched. For the act of growing plants, it seemed wildly outsized to the task, though Rick didn’t know much about engineering new strains of life. Maybe this was the standard setup.

Walking onward, a sound caught Rick’s attention: the steady and slow dribble of water falling. As he finally reached the rear of the tank, he discovered the source, along with a sight that made his heart sink. The back of the tank was shattered along the top, causing the water to steadily tumble over the opened outlet as it was pumped in.

Worse by far was the gaping hole in the building itself, through which Rick could see the lake in all its moonlit glory.

The breeding Ultimato had already escaped, migrating into the lake itself. How on earth anyone would dig it out, Rick didn’t know, but thankfully that probably wasn’t his problem. If they knew where it was, then sorting things out was just a matter of pointing the right cape in the right⁠—

“Rick, watch out!”

The voice came at the same time that two things happened. One was that a massive tentacle formed from vegetation that was snaking toward Rick’s head halted ever-so-briefly as the warning rang out. The second was that a sneaker tumbled through the air and smacked that tentacle near the tip, knocking it slightly askew as it resumed the attack.

The end result of all this was that the dense thorny vine that had been aimed for Rick’s eyes was instead pushed down to his torso before it made contact, winding around the dark armor but failing to penetrate even as it yanked him down from the metal walkway.

From his position while falling, Rick got a great view of Doug floating above the action and with only a single shoe. Despite all the danger, he’d left the ward to watch Rick’s back. An incredibly stupid move by just about any measurement, but one that had probably saved Rick a great deal of trouble. The sort of wound he’d narrowly avoided was intense enough to break the transformation, allowing his actual shape to emerge.

If that had happened… Rick honestly wasn’t sure what would happen next. He didn’t have it in him to kill these people, especially not after the night they’d shared. But Ivan had some very firm notions when it came to personal security.

Smashing onto the floor below, Rick crunched through several pipes, sending water spewing all over the place. It made the air misty, adding a sense of mystery as his opponent emerged. This walking mound of vegetation was a far cry from the prior versions, standing at least fifteen feet tall and walking on six crab-like limbs spread across the body. It had the same head as the others, shaped like a warped Venus flytrap, only on a much larger scale.

Instead of pincers, its lumpy torso had several of the long tentacles waving about, all of which soon grew still and turned to face a single point. Without any warning, they all shot forth simultaneously, aimed on a crash course with Rick.

24

There was a big difference between this fight and the prior two Rick had undertaken since his transformation. During those last bouts, he’d had the other campers close at hand and been in fairly limited spaces. Once a stairwell, the other time a metal landing with only so much room to maneuver.

This time, Rick was surrounded by nothing but empty floor space and pipes. With his closest ally being Doug, who was still high overhead and drifting down slowly, Rick finally had a bit of space to work with.

As the tentacles smashed against him, they hurriedly withdrew, dark flames already cascading down their surface. Rick couldn’t replicate the ward he’d used on the others in a split second, but summoning a simple elemental invocation and wrapping it around himself was another matter. While the flames did fend off the initial assault, they also sputtered out quickly.

Not only was this creature fire-resistant, but the air around them was downright damp thanks to the broken pipes spraying water. Switching tactics, Rick swung his next bit of magic in the opposite thermal direction. Hunks of dark ice that rapidly destroyed all they encased spread along the mountainous enemy’s legs and torso, causing it to totter unsteadily.

Casting ice offensively was a bit like rolling a snowball down a hill. Initially, it wasn’t all that much of a threat. However, as more and more accumulated, it built upon itself, until suddenly a spell that seemed a mere inconvenience was binding limbs and freezing faces. Thanks to the water in the air, and his second form’s more potent casting, Rick was able to speed up that initial momentum building process and go right to being a chilly threat.

Then, without warning, the monster stopped.

It halted entirely, every tentacle and massive leg holding steady, not so much as a quiver to be seen. Only for a few seconds, through, then it was moving again. But something had changed. Rather than try and lash out with the remaining unfrozen tentacles, the huge vegetation beast rushed right at Rick like it was trying to crush him.

Hastily, he threw up a crackling barrier of electricity, all too aware it wouldn’t deflect that level of bulk. Thanks to hurling himself to the side, though, Rick was able to avoid the ice-coated leg that nearly slammed into his shoulder. Because he was airborne, however, Rick had little chance to dodge the waiting tentacle that wrapped around his chest.

Too late, Rick realized the charge was bait to make him dodge, allowing the creature to ensnare him. It wouldn’t be an issue if he could teleport like Ivan, but for whatever reason that bit of magic continued to elude him. Instead, Rick began to freeze the tentacle twisted around his torso, only to realize that they hadn’t actually stopped moving.

With the telltale crack of a few more sections of wall being torn away, the monster burst from the hole in the side of the building with Rick still in its clutches and the pair went crashing down into the lake waters below.

Despite the darkness below the surface, Rick was able to see just fine. Which, in this case, might have been more curse than blessing. Because it allowed him to see the absolute army of these monsters drifting through the depths. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Ultimatos were swirling through the current, more of the vegetation monsters forming around each one.

And there, on the lake’s floor, Rick spotted what had to be the original version that had escaped from the tank. Unlike the others, it wasn’t humanoid or animal shaped – this version actually looked sort of like a plant. One that was a mass of interwoven vegetation and dark green flowers that covered the lakebed like an abominable carpet.

Feeling himself jerk suddenly, Rick realized his captor had never released its grip, and they were now drifting down toward the giant plant. Other monsters nearby swam over to help push the massive jailer along, hurrying it and Rick’s journey.

Given how the huge opponent had suddenly stopped and severely shifted strategies, Rick suspected he was dealing with a hive mind situation. Which meant there was a chance, albeit a small one, that killing the main plant would weaken, incapacitate, or even wipe out the remainder of the forces.

Experimentally, Rick tried to freeze and then shock the tentacle holding him to no avail. Even aside from the huge amounts of water diluting everything, any time he attempted to cast magic, the other creatures swimming around would close in and take most of the brunt themselves. With enough practice and skill, Rick had little doubt he could escape with the tools at hand. But despite his months of training, Rick was still a new metahuman mastering his powers.

Besides which, Ivan’s training had a specific, survival-based slant to the curriculum. Rick hadn’t been educated on how to win fights with minimal effort; their focus was on ensuring he could always walk away from the altercation.

Casting his eyes upward, Rick stared at the dim light of the moon slowly fading as they sunk deeper. As he recalled it, the surface of the lake was like a mirror tonight. Not even advanced sight should permit someone to see what was happening below the water line. There was always a chance he could be discovered – Ivan had driven that home ad nauseum – but none of Rick’s alternative options were especially appealing.

Beyond all that, though, Rick simply wanted to finish this. He was tired, worried about his friends, and more than a little frustrated at having to spend a night running from threats he could have easily annihilated.

As the distance between Rick and the main plant diminished, it began to shift. A series of vines rose up, each with one of the flytrap-like mouths at the end, all open and gnashing their sharpened root fangs at the impending meal. But the plant wasn’t the only one changing.

Slowly, careful not to scare his supposed captors, Rick began to release his second layer of transformation magic. It was just as the vine-mouths were circling him that the last bit of magic gave way. In a split second, the tentacle encircling him was mush, and a heartbeat after that, the huge monster that dragged him into the depths was nothing but a mound of goo that had been slashed into five distinct segments.

Rick had resumed his true form, and the waters boiled as the monsters panicked. Everything around him closed in to attack all at once; half-formed or fully developed, it was all thrown at Rick in a desperate bid at survival.

On the top of the lake, all that one could see was a slight bit of bubbling and churn.

Then the remains began to surface.

25

“Sounds like quite a night.”

Ivan tossed Rick’s bag into the back of the car, early morning light glinting of his windshield, as well as the vehicles of all the other parents gathered to take their children home.

Although the rest of the Ultimato monsters had suddenly collapsed when the origin-plant died, that didn’t do anything about the oozing piles of remains. The result of which was that when Rick and the others finally hiked their way back to camp, they found entire hillsides of green goop from the plethora of creatures that tried to overwhelm the camp.

Sadly, by the time they arrived, the man described as a Ricky Rocket impersonator had already raced and beaten Counselor Grady, then dashed off into the night. While the camp and everything in it was safe, there was no way they could continue with the camping session as things stood. The current plan was to have a crew come in to sweep the entire area while purging the remains, hopefully before too many camp sessions were delayed.

Which was why all of the campers were being picked up that morning, though some of their parents were clearly less enthused by the morning wake-up than Ivan. Doug’s mother, in particular, was bleary-eyed and still clad in a nurse’s scrubs, but she lit up when he ran over and threw his arms around her in a big hug.

Rick was surprised to find Ivan staring at the young man who was intended to be his bunkmate, even if they never actually got any sleep. “He’s the one who helped you?”

“Yeah. Crazy bastard left a ward in the middle of a monster-infested area to watch my back.”

“Be sure to say thank you.”

As the rest of Storm and Lava Cabins wandered into view, Doug broke apart from his mom and ran back over to the group, which Rick hurried to join a moment later. They’d already exchanged email addresses and phone numbers on the walk back, all aware this was the sort of experience that they’d want to eventually talk over, ideally with someone who was also there.

There were no logistics to sort or final details to go over. Instead, they simply gathered together in something between a mix of a huddle and a group hug. Words would never be able to encompass what connected them; the terror and thrill of it all was a big factor, but also their own inexperience.

For better or worse, this had been their first outing as metahumans. None had come to camp expecting that sort of event, or to share it with others, but each recognized the importance of such an experience. Whether each pursued the life of a cape or not afterward, this night would be with them forever.

When they finally broke apart, the group scattered to their respective parents, several breaking down in tears the moment they were in a loving embrace. For Rick, it had been a matter of how much he was willing to reveal. To the others, they’d been out there with their lives on the line. A bit of crying was the very least they were entitled to.

Taking one last look, Rick climbed into his father’s car and buckled up as they started for home. “Dad… about the ring…”

“You made a choice to take it off. Some might argue a mistake, though given how everything turned out, one could also say you knew what you were doing. The important part is I think you now understand how dangerous it can be, even for a moment, to not have backup available.”

Rick swallowed hard, mind flashing through how many close calls the night had entailed simply because of that one half-considered decision. “I do. I definitely do.”

Ivan nodded while softly turning the wheel and pulling out onto the road. “Then so far as I’m concerned, you came away learning the most important lesson I could hope for the camp to impart.”

“Yeah, who needs a whole five days to figure out their powers? One night battling monsters is obviously the faster course. I could fight for the capes tomorrow.”

“That’s true, though only because the AHC has an on-the-job learning process. In other realms, five days would barely be considered an orientation. I have an associate who was once stranded in a world where their version of superheroes needed four entire years of training to be considered capable with their gifts. Not to mention⁠—”

Rick’s hands reaching over to his father’s shoulder halted the man’s words mid-sentence. “Relax, Dad, it was a joke. I’m not joining the capes.”

“You can. If you want to. I know we’ve talked about it, I just want to reiterate… you know.”

“I know. It’s all up to me. You’ve made that abundantly clear, and I really do appreciate it.” Rick pulled his hand back, laying it on the console between them. “But right now, all I want is to go to college and try to be… well, not normal, but normal for a metahuman. One who can sling some spells and maybe turn into a muscular demon form, when in dire straits. Not the sort who gets pulled into situations where he has to unveil his actual shape or watch innocent people die.”

There was no response as his father arrived at a stop sign and turned left; not until they were once more rolling did he speak up. “I certainly can’t fault you for that. Are any of the others from camp attending college in the fall?”

“Doug mentioned something about applying for scholarships to attend Ridge City University, so at least he’s a maybe. The others could be going, I didn’t really get a chance to ask. It’s the best school in the region, though, so I’m sure a few have at least applied.”

“I may need to speak to Wade about some of the unaccounted-for Indigo Technologies scholarships opportunities. There’s something to be said for an ally who’s proven themselves more loyal than wise.” A gentle tug at the edge of Ivan’s lips might have been hints at a smile, though one would be hard-pressed to prove it. “In fact, my relationship with Wade himself started out with him acting as my sandwich-fetcher.”

Moments prior, Rick would have said he’d used up all of his shock on the last twenty-four hours, yet his eyes still managed to bulge at the implications that a world-famous billionaire who could apparently whip together metahuman-creating cocktails had at one point been his father’s snack gopher.

“On that topic, we’ve still never talked about the fact that you’re apparently buddies with a secret billionaire. I almost whizzed my pants when we met!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ve known Wade since you were a child. He never used his main body due to all the questions that would be raised, but just about any time I had a friend pop by the house, it was him.”

At that, Rick could only stare at his father’s deadpan face, acting as if that was in any way a reasonable explanation to offer. “I don’t think you always realize how much being surrounded by all this weird stuff has made you numb to it.”

“I’ll grant you that. It’s hard to hold on to a mundane perspective. You’ll see, probably sooner and faster than you’d like.”

Flashes of the night, and its vicious ending, flickered though Rick’s mind, prompting him to hurriedly shift the subject. “Any other big revelations you want to get out of the way? Were my teachers cyborgs? Are any of your other friends secret billionaires? Am I named Rick because I’m actually a clone of Ricky Rocket?”

Slowly, Ivan ticked off his fingers on one hand, keeping the other firmly on the wheel. “None that come to mind.” Up went a finger. “Some of them, though they were robots rather than cyborgs. The difference is in whether or not there are organic materials inside.” The second finger rose. “It’s possible, I’ve never really asked. It’s generally rude to pry into other people’s finances.” A third finger joined the lot. “No cloning shenanigans at play, though given how clearly you have your mother’s eyes and my nose, I’d have thought that apparent. You were named after Ricky Rocket, though, in a roundabout manner.”

“Wait, I was? You guys never told me that.”

“It was a bit tied up in my situation at the time,” Ivan admitted. “Your mother wanted a distinctly heroic name to offset any sort of suspicion that might fall your way through our association. She’s always been a forward thinker. Trouble was, most superheroes either keep their real names secret or had history with Fornax that made the idea uncomfortable all around. Ricky Rocket was lost from the world before I was even born, we’ve got no bad blood, and by all accounts of the time was an upstanding fellow. So that became the winner, though we did adapt it a bit.”

As the pair sunk deeper into simple conversation, the camp faded slowly behind them, a bright sun and blue sky above a campground absolutely covered in green slime. A simple site that someday would be known for hosting the first recorded appearance of one of the world’s most powerful meta-humans.

End of Camp Meta

Other Novels by Drew Hayes

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About the Author

Drew Hayes is an author from Texas who has now found time and gumption to publish a few books. He graduated from Texas Tech with a B.A. in English, because evidently he's not familiar with what the term "employable" means. Drew has been called one of the most profound, prolific, and talented authors of his generation, but a table full of drunks will say almost anything when offered a round of free shots. Drew feels kind of like a D-bag writing about himself in the third person like this. He does appreciate that you're still reading, though.

Drew would like to sit down and have a beer with you. Or a cocktail. He's not here to judge your preferences. Drew is terrible at being serious, and has no real idea what a snippet biography is meant to convey anyway. Drew thinks you are awesome just the way you are. That part, he meant. You can reach Drew with questions or movie offers at NovelistDrew@gmail.com Drew is off to go high-five random people, because who doesn't love a good high-five? No one, that's who.

Read or purchase more of his work at his site: DrewHayesNovels.com