Making supers 1

by Dante King

Chapter 1
I caught a flight to Empyrion with nothing except what was in my pockets and the promises of a
parent I hadn't seen in three years. It was a small connecting flight, nothing major, but even the
technological center of the US hadn't figured out how to get their own international airport just yet. It
was a trial sitting next to a lovely old lady with endless stories about her six cats, but I'd learned that it
never hurt to be polite, even to annoying strangers. I hit the airport lounge thirty minutes later, and a
wave of nostalgia washed over me as I strolled through security with a friendly smile and watchful
eyes.
I hadn't been home in years.
Business people and families swarmed through the tastefully decorated lounge in a wash of
excitement, impatience, and high-running emotions. Advertising flickered on digital screens on every
available surface.
I stopped at a small cafe on my way toward the taxi rank and offered the barista a quick smile
and fifteen bucks for two coffees.
"Meeting someone?" the cute brunette asked.
"Maybe I'm just chronically addicted to caffeine," I replied. "You never know with us frequent
fliers."
Her tongue toyed with a lip piercing for a second, and she shook her head. "Nah, you're meeting
someone."
"Guilty as charged." I chuckled. "Long black and a latte."
My gaze drifted to a TV beside the automatic doors that led to the exits. Flashes of a
supermodel in spandex played over a running banner. superhero extraordinaire Phenomenon rescues
innocents on a bus amidst supervillain attack, it said, and the camera made special care to focus on
her assets.
I tried not to roll my eyes at it and turned back to the much more interesting barista. The girl's
hands flashed over the top-of-the-line coffee machine with practiced ease, and she caught my eye with
an almost shy smile. I didn't know how the girl managed to fit so much energy into her movements,
but there was focus, precision, and talent to her coffee-making. A pen bounced in a messy bun as she
blended beans, and the apron did nothing to hide just how amazing the girl looked in denim shorts and
a band t-shirt.
"You're new in town?" she asked.
"Pretty new," I said.
"Hmm. Most newcomers have luggage."
"You're with security, aren't you?"
That made her laugh, and the surprising depth of the sound warmed my insides.
"Nah, not little old me." Her eyes drifted to the TV, and she smirked. "You don't look too
impressed at our local heroes, mister. Anyone else might get suspicious about that. No suitcase,
newcomer who doesn't fall down to his knees at the sight of a woman in latex?"
I eyed her. "Maybe I'm internalizing."
"Maybe," the barista said. "But you don't look like a guy who internalizes much."
"Well, this shouldn't catch you off-guard, then. Got dinner plans?"
The barista's smile could have lit up a city with a broken power grid. "Good looking, quippy,
and confident? I'd almost be tempted, mister. But I'm busy, unfortunately."
I put a hand over my heart with a hurt expression. "The barista giveth, and the barista taketh
away. I don't know how I'll recover from this." My wounded air vanished a moment later as she
pushed a tray of two takeaway cups in front of me. "You take care."
"You too, mysterious stranger." The barista beamed as she turned to her newest customers.
I retrieved the nectar of life and headed out. A couple of families held signs, waiting for their
beloved to return from journeys unknown, and I found a bench seat near the taxi lines. My ride
wouldn't be here for another few minutes, and I had plenty of practice waiting. The swarms of people,
the American accents, and the sheer energy of it all was a contrast to what I last remembered of
Empyrion.
The Pinnacle, America's greatest superhero team, was based out of their flying tower over the
city's skyline. My gaze drifted up to it, half-shrouded by clouds in the distance, and I tried not to laugh
at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight.
superheroes were serious business, of course, but a flying skyscraper must have been hell on the
local air traffic. I guessed they didn't have to worry about a stray helicopter or drone scratching the
paint of their high-tech dick in the sky when the US government, news networks, and Hollywood had
a hard-on for pouring money into their pockets.
My eyes settled back on the surging crowd around me, and I recalled my dad's instructions.
He'd posted me a letter in the mail, in code, and told me the particulars.

1430 ET, Empyrion Domestic. New Story Quest.

The message conjured an image of Brandon Silver to my mind, hunched over a gaming PC with
a manic grin on his face, and excitement sparkling behind a pair of steel-rimmed glasses.
My dad had always loved his MMOs, and they'd been part of our conversations ever since I'd
first played with him. A Story Quest meant that it was an important family matter, something to do
with his old company.
I stretched my legs out with a sigh of appreciation. At least it wasn't an XP grind-quest like the
last assignment. My legs were still sore from the altercations with the kickboxers in Bangkok.
A new car glided into a park in front of me. It was an old, well-maintained sedan, but the shield
on the front of the vehicle indicated that it was a custom vehicle, not something churned out by cheap
overseas manufacturers. The silvery 'S' marked it as an old SilverSky Industries fleet car, which had
my dad's signature written all over it.
My ride had arrived.
A gorgeous woman stepped out of the driver's seat. Straight strawberry-blonde hair danced in
the slight breeze as she straightened up with a sigh, and the afternoon sunlight caught on her wide-
rimmed glasses.
Casual office attire clung to all the right curves without being deliberately eye-catching, but
doing nothing to hide her height or her long, toned legs. Form-fitting trousers, pumps, and an open-
necked blouse of pressed white suited her perfectly, and it wasn't difficult to imagine the girl running
an office with ruthless efficiency.
I approached the car before she managed to cross to the sidewalk.
Her emerald-green eyes came to rest on me. A smile pulled at a set of sensuous lips that stirred
my lower machinery.
I set the matched pair of takeaway cups down on the roof of the sedan and pushed them toward
her with a smile.
 "You must be Dean," she said.
"I can be someone else, if it works better."
She arched an eyebrow at that, but she couldn't quite suppress the grin. Her eyes fell to the
coffee, and an almost lustful expression flickered over her face.
"I think you'll do just fine," she said. "Which one is yours?"
"Whichever. I don't mind cow juice."
"But you prefer black," she guessed. "Like your dad."
I suppressed my surprise. My old man wasn't exactly what you'd call a people person, and he
usually conducted business through false names or proxies when it came to the charred remains of
SilverSky. But the beauty who had my jaw threatening to drop off knew him in person?
"You got me," I admitted.
The bombshell lifted the latte out of the tray with well-manicured fingers. I scooped up the
remaining cup. She dropped back into the car with an easy, practiced grace, and I immediately
suspected dancing or gymnastics training in her skillset.
I pulled open the passenger door and slid into an interior of rich, fragrant leather, and all the
bells and whistles that 2047 could provide. My driver's eyes flickered over me for a moment, noted
details, and nodded with renewed certainty.
"It's nice to meet you, Dean. I'm Giselle Tyrren, and I worked with Brandon."
"Worked, past tense," I noted, and took a sip of coffee. "Pleasure's all mine, Giselle."
Giselle slid the car away from the cab rank and took us from the domestic terminal and into the
city of Empyrion.
I thought back to my dad's message, fixed on the Story Quest part of it, and waited for my
driver to start the conversation.
Giselle looked relaxed, but I could tell she had questions from the way her gaze flicked over
me, my lack of bags, and the still-healing scars on my knuckles. My admiration of the woman
increased. She knew where to look, and what to look for, which meant she had a good tactical
awareness of people.
"I guess I should say welcome home," Giselle began.
"Haven't been here in thirteen years," I said. "So it's not exactly home. But thanks."
Giselle nodded. "Brandon reached out to me two days ago. He told me that you were coming
home, and I needed to take you to one of our old sites. Well, I assume that's what he meant, because he
gave me an address for it, but he called it a 'bind spot'."
"I'm glad I'm not the only one he does that to." I grinned. "Means that it's safe, and he's
probably left something there for me. It's a drop-off site."
"Oh. A gaming term?"
"Yeah." I took another sip of coffee and let my gaze turn to the window. "So, you work
corporate these days, or are you in consulting?"
Giselle blinked. "Corporate. I'm a project manager at SatSec. How'd you know?"
"Your outfit. Expensive enough to be upper-class, but subtle enough that you're used to the
money, and don't need to flaunt it. Plus, dad made sure that all his former employees found gigs when
SilverSky folded." I frowned as I recalled most of the major companies in Empyrion. "SatSec is
Satellite Security, right? You're in cybersecurity?"
Giselle turned onto one of the main arterials and took a long drink of her latte.
"Got it in one. You don't miss much." She smiled. "Neither does Brandon, though. So I
shouldn't really be surprised. What about you? Busted up knuckles, short haircut, military boots?
Screams 'security consultant', or 'soldier of fortune' to me."
 "Depends on the day. Sometimes I'm a clown at birthday parties."
Giselle laughed at that, a throaty purr that gave me goosebumps. "Doubt it."
I took note of the scenery as we rolled past hundreds of other vehicles. The airport was outside
Empyrion's main Business District. Tightly packed corporate skyscrapers jostled for prominence
beside each other and fought for elbow room between expensive restaurants and hotels.
I watched the buildings and billboards flicker by and flash drivers with new advertisements for
Pinnacle's latest documentaries, and fashions modeled by hot superhumans who didn't need Photoshop
to cause spontaneous erections.
"supers are all the rage," I observed. "Wasn't this bad last time I was here."
Giselle smiled. "This is Empyrion, Dean. It's the heart of their operation, and still has the
highest percentage of supervillain attacks in the US. Every punk who learns they have powers wants a
shot at Pinnacle. It's Pinnacle's way of reminding everyone that they're here, and ready to step in at a
moment's notice."
"And to sell t-shirts and underwear," I added dryly. "What'd you do with dad?"
"I was an intern, and he made me a research assistant. It wasn't anything major, not like the
biotech stuff he was into. We were looking at countermeasures for EMP attacks, mostly. There was a
supervillain who took half the city's technology off the grid for a day or two, and he wanted to find a
preventative measure."
"Damn. Smart, ambitious, and gorgeous. Bet he hated letting you go."
Giselle coughed politely to hide her smile. "He did, but the grants dried up. Do you have any
idea what he left behind for you? What any of this is all about?"
"Guessing he didn't tell you, either."
"Brandon's always been quiet about a lot of his projects," Giselle said.
"Yeah, he likes his eccentric air of mystery. Where are we headed?"
"Castillo."
"Upper-class residential district," I noted. "Weird place for a lab."
"Like you said, he likes his mystery. Can't help but notice the lack of bags. You didn't have
anything to bring with you?"
"I move around a lot. No point getting attached to anything if I'm just going to have to sell or
dump it every couple of weeks. Besides, I like traveling light. Keeps things interesting." I leaned back
in my seat and kept my eyes on the road ahead.
"Even people who travel light still have a spare set of clothes," she argued. "What happens if
someone spills coffee on you or something?"
"They buy me a new shirt. And I get caffeinated by osmosis. Pretty good deal, really."
Giselle fixed me with a half-serious look. "So you expect me to believe you just drift from
country to country, place to place, and follow up your father's instructions on a whim? Like you're
some kind of invisible spy or something?"
"Dad would say I'm a true adventurer." I chuckled. "But something like that, yeah."
"I can't imagine. I'd go insane without some kind of routine."
"I go crazy if I have a routine."
Giselle took a turn off the highway and drove down a maze of tightly-woven streets. People in
business outfits, hipster wannabes walking their dogs, and kids in private-school uniforms crowded
the sidewalks as they made their way home.
Castillo was an aggressively gentrified neighborhood, all McMansions and young money, and
we were cut off by at least two sports cars as Giselle pushed the sedan closer to the location my old
man had given her. She demonstrated superhuman patience as we reached our fifth set of red lights in
ten minutes, and finished her coffee with a contented sigh.
"Do you have any plans after this?" Giselle asked.
"Figured we could get dinner," I replied. "Seems the least I could do after dad has you driving
me around like this. Although you'd have been a great cab driver in another life."
"Smooth." Giselle laughed. "What makes you think that I'm even available?"
"Intuition. No wedding ring, but you look like you're in your late twenties, and a serious player
in corporate. Most guys are intimidated by you, and those that aren't don't interest you much."
"Next thing I know, you'll be calling me a spinster."
"Wouldn't dream of it," I assured her.
"Tell you what," Giselle said, "if this doesn't take too long, I know a nice place in Downtown
that does half-decent Italian. But you'll need to work a little harder if you think it's a date."
"Challenge accepted."
Giselle noted the street names and house numbers before she pulled to a halt outside of an old
set of apartments. It stuck out from the neighborhood like a sore thumb, all unwashed bricks and
cracked concrete. A steel gate with a rusted padlock barred our way in.
I stepped out of the sedan and reflexively scanned the street for any suspicious passersby. A
couple walking a swarm of dachshunds watched us as they passed, but they didn't set off my radar as a
threat.
Giselle stepped out of the car in a flash of long legs and red hair, and joined me as I examined
the gate for any structural weaknesses.
Six-foot brick walls stood either side of the gates and circled around the entire property. I'd half-
expected razor wire, but a military compound in the middle of suburbia would have drawn too much
attention. The apartments stood out, sure, but it wouldn't have taken much imagination to figure that
they were scheduled for later demolition.
"Where's a super when you need one?" I said. "They could use their dick and smack the padlock
clean off for us. Make the whole thing easier."
Giselle drew a key out of her pocket with a twinkle in her eye. "It's no super-penis, but it should
get the job done."
The lock fell away under a moment of attention from the key.
I pushed the gates open with a grunt and a bit of help from my shoulder. They were damned
heavy things, and nothing like the automated entries Empyrion was used to, but that just assured me
that I was in the right place. My old man loved technology, but he had a strong view on the
importance of analog for security reasons.
Giselle got back into the car to bring it through into the parking lot, and I swung the gate shut
behind us. The complex was made up of two-story brick buildings, all squat and cheap-looking,
utterly unremarkable in every way.
A small thrill rolled through me as Giselle and I stepped up to the first doorway.
What had my dad left behind for me to find?
A scanner stood over where the door handle should have been. It was a boxy piece of tech from
a couple of decades ago, and I pressed my thumb against it. A shade of green rippled over my
fingerprint, and a grinding click opened the door a second later.
I pushed the door open and gestured gallantly.
"Ladies first," I said.
"Such a gentleman," Giselle snarked.
She stepped inside, and I followed her in. I made sure to close the door behind us and tried the
lightswitch. Halogen lights flickered to life, revealing an empty flat with no adornments.
 Giselle walked to the center of the lounge room with a frown, and I swept my eyes over the safe
house for any irregularities. The place didn't look like anything special, but a door had been installed
in a far wall that backed onto the neighboring flat.
"I'm confused," Giselle said.
I checked the kitchen cupboards, but didn't find anything except dust. The whole place was a
callback to an earlier time, before smart homes and talking appliances.
I found a metallic suitcase under the sink. I grinned as I pulled it out. Giselle's eyes widened in
excitement, and she joined my side as I slapped the thing down on a benchtop.
Another old-school thumbprint scanner sat where the locks should have been, and a touch of my
hand clicked the suitcase open with ease.
Giselle gasped as she saw what was inside.
A simple semi-automatic pistol sat nestled inside foam, beside a roll of cash, a concealed-carry
appendix holster, and a spare mag of ammo. A white piece of paper sat under the gun as I scooped it
up and checked the chamber.
"What the hell?" Giselle said, shocked. "That's--"
"Unregistered and untraceable," I agreed. "Seems pretty standard, for dad."
"Guns are illegal in Empyrion. You have to know that."
"Shame."
I set up the holster in my waistband and pulled out my loose white t-shirt to hide the weapon
from any casual inspection. The gun went into it, with the safety firmly clicked in, and I pocketed the
roll of cash.
Giselle swallowed her shock after a moment, and she opened the small slip of paper still left in
the case.
"I can't read it--it's just letters and numbers," she said.
"Code," I told her, and took it from her fingers with a nod.
The cipher was an old one, and virtually impossible to put together without knowledge of the
cipher. In typical dad fashion, it was short and terse. I took a minute to translate it.
"Starter Town," I read aloud. "Form a party, and check the Basement."
Giselle stared at me like I'd started speaking French.
"Means that I'm here for a while," I said. "He wants me to put a crew together. But Basement is
capitalized. What the hell is that about?"
Giselle's face went white. "They're terrorists."
That made me look up at her. "Come again?"
"Anti-superhero group online. Hacktivists, known to use mercenaries, and sworn enemies of
Pinnacle." She gulped. "They're impossible to find or track down. Hell, we've had to fight off a few of
their attacks at SatSec. They paid off a couple of employees to snoop around inside of our code and try
to weaken it."
I pocketed the note and muttered a curse. "Well, that's the mission. I've got to find them. Any
idea where to start looking?"
"Dean, they're impossible to find. That was the point I was trying to get at."
"They've got to have left some trails behind," I argued. "Surely--"
The lights in the flat went out and plunged us into darkness.
I wheeled around to check the door, but it was still closed. I'd locked the gate and the door
behind us, so anyone reaching the building's breakers would have had a hard time getting in.
Giselle's breathing sped up in the dark beside me, and I felt her shrink against my side like a
frightened kitten.
 "You get a lot of power outages in Empyrion?" I asked.
"No, not since Pinnacle poured money into the grid," she replied, quickly.
I crossed the flat, found the heavy curtains keeping the light out, and glanced out onto the street.
The afternoon had faded into dusk, and the streetlights outside illuminated the neighborhood. The
lights outside the apartments were dead, though, and my gut twisted itself into a series of adrenaline-
fueled knots.
"Head out the side door," I instructed.
"Dean, what's going on?" Giselle asked, panicked.
"Tell you when I've got an idea," I said grimly. "I don't like this."
The gorgeous woman's heels clipped across the kitchen floor, and she tugged at the newly-
installed door into the next flat. It stayed locked, however, and I muttered a curse as I moved to join
her. The dark made it difficult to see, but another fingerprint scanner had been installed on the door
handle. It clicked at my touch, and I pushed it open.
The lights in the flat snapped on and off for a second, like a reverse brown-out.
I cleared my new gun from its holster and covered the front door.
"Go," I urged Giselle.
She went into the next room without argument, and I backed in after her.
Cold blue lights illuminated the new room from back-up power systems that my old man had
probably installed himself.
I closed the door behind us and rapidly took in the room.
Steel benches covered most of the floor space, and old computers with blank monitors took up a
good chunk of them. The rest of the place was clear of anything, except a bizarre structure on the
opposite side of the room. It looked like a sci-fi birthing pod, eight feet tall, with glass doors, framed
by blinking lights. It could have easily fit two people inside, and I stared at the thing for a moment in
shock.
"Know what that is?" I asked Giselle.
"No idea!" she squeaked back.
I checked the walls for another door, but the room was self-enclosed. The only way out was the
same way we'd come in, which struck me as odd for dad. He'd always made sure that his safe-houses
had bolt-holes. What made this one different?
The unmistakable click of the front door opening in the main flat echoed.
The door, which was coded to my fingerprints.
My adrenaline kicked up another notch, and I took up a position against the wall.
I forced my breathing to a calm as I covered the only entryway into the weird lab. Giselle, a girl
after my own heart, had taken cover behind a bench behind me to avoid any potential ricochets.
A muffled, heavily-modulated voice echoed out of the room beside us.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are. . . ."
Giselle slammed a palm over her mouth to stop herself from making a sound, and I sank into a
tactical crouch. I didn't know what the fuck any of this was about. But something about that voice was
familiar, though I couldn't quite place it. As my mind raced to find the information, I decided to go on
the offensive.
The invader knew we were here.
And, unless I missed my guess, he had something to do with the lights.
And he could effortlessly unlock fingerprint-coded locks.
This wasn't just another home invader with a weird sense of humor. He was here for a reason,
and that reason had to be tied to my dad. I forced myself not to swear under my breath at my old man
before I called out to the voice next door.
"We ordered pizza two hours ago! Where have you been?"
A dry, static-filled chuckle echoed through the room, and the door directly ahead of me clicked
open effortlessly.
I forced half a breath out of my lungs and steadied my hand as the invader appeared through the
entrance.
My brain gave me a half-scrambled image of a shortish figure in a long, black cloak, neon-
green highlights in a half-spandex, half-armored outfit, and a hood deep enough to hide the fucker's
face.
Giselle shouted something as I pulled the trigger and said goodbye to my hearing for a while. I
dumped three rounds into the Halloween dress-up freak, two to the chest, and one at his hood. White
noise filled my ears, and the figure jerked as if he'd just been slapped.
He didn't fall, he didn't bleed. He just turned and looked at me.
I kept firing.
Two bullets tore into his inner thighs, another smashed into his gut, and I focused the rest of the
shots at the left side of his chest. My palms were dripping with sweat, I couldn't seem to get enough
air into my lungs, and my ears screamed with white-noise. But I'd trained with the best and brightest
when it came to guns.
Unharmed, the cloaked super looked merely annoyed by the rounds. He might have stepped
back a couple of times. He flicked a hand out of his cloak. A thick, machete-like knife appeared like
magic in his hand, and, with calm steps, he strode toward me.
I kicked off the wall beside me, rolled to my feet, and vaulted over a bench as fast as I could.
The cloaked figure stalked after me and overturned the bench with a single hand, sending computer
stuff skittering everywhere on polished concrete.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I wasn't dealing with a poser. This guy was an honest-to-god superhuman, with all of the
strength and bullet resistance that came with it.
I spun to face the nightmare, noted that part of my hearing had come back already, and raised
my gun again.
The super approached without any hurry and tilted his head like some horror-movie ripoff.
"--you going to do with that?" the modulated voice asked.
"Make you uncomfortable," I replied fiercely.
I ejected the magazine, slapped a fresh set of rounds in with the practiced ease that came with
hundreds of thousands of repetitions, and dumped bullets into the super's crotch. The hooded figure
rolled back with a curse, lunged to a wall where the shadows were longest, and vanished from sight
like a goddamned magic trick.
I tracked his last known location with the muzzle of my gun, while scrambling for options in
my head. I needed to get Giselle clear, that much was obvious. My bullets couldn't do any meaningful
damage to an armored, super-tough superhuman, but a bunch of rounds of 9mm to the family jewels
would have made anyone flinch.
I stepped back, found Giselle, and hauled her to her feet.
"Run!" I shouted, as loud as I could.
Her head whipped around, and the super appeared from the shadows behind us like a ghost.
I ripped Giselle clear, spun around, and did the craziest thing I could think of.
I lunged toward the lunatic with the cleaver, went low, and felt something rip across my
shoulder blades. I ignored the sting of pain as I used my momentum to slam the super against the wall.
The super just melted away, and I cracked my skull off brick like an idiot.
He'd cut me, and gotten clear.
Shit, shit, shit.
Giselle hadn't escaped. She sat there, paralyzed, and her eyes darted from shadow to shadow,
looking for any sign of the super.
I didn't know much about supers, aside from the odd scrap with a wannabe supervillain, but this
guy had to be close to a B-tier threat. Not top-of-the-line powerful, but strong enough to turn the lab
into an abattoir with our pieces all over it. He could zip in and out of shadows like they were doors.
Wait a minute.
I darted forward, caught Giselle's hand, and pulled her out of her paralytic state. She gasped, but
followed my lead, as I sprinted through the rows of tables toward the weird glowing pod at the other
end of the room. I swept monitors and PCs down to the ground behind me in an attempt to slow the
fucker down, but shouldn't have bothered.
The super melted out of the shadows beside the pod, stepped in front of it, and raised his huge
knife. I shoved Giselle over a table as I brought up my gun again, and flung it straight at his head. The
super swept his head aside to dodge it, but the pistol tore his hood away from his face. A metal mask
shrouded his features, but I spotted pale skin around his throat, and I did the last thing he probably
expected.
I lunged at him again, like a howling barbarian from another age.
His knife sliced over my blocking arm and cut effortlessly through my shirt. I smashed my knee
up into his balls. The blow stunned him, drove him back a step, and I used the rest of my momentum
to tackle him into the pod. I pinned his throat with my good forearm, clubbed him with an elbow, and
caught hold of his knife hand. Warmth began trickling down my cut arm.
Something robotic warbled out from behind the mask.
The fucker was laughing.
The skin on my good arm tingled like crazy, and a strange little box appeared across my vision
in front of my red-tinged vision. The super's knife drove up, and I twisted as best as I could to dodge
it. Steel scraped against my ribs, opened up another gushing cut, and I tried to read the strange, game-
like notification in my vision.

[Transfer Complete]
[Darkstalker Powers Stolen]

The masked super shoved me off him with a mighty push, and the back of my head noted that
the crushing strength from earlier wasn't there. He reared back, planted a kick into my gut, and
propelled me out of the pod.
I covered my head as I hit the concrete, and rolled with the impact. Giselle appeared in my
peripheral as she dived toward the machine. Her fist slammed down on a control panel, and a hiss of
gas sealed the pod shut around the super.
I pulled myself into a crouch, and the pain from the knife wounds rushed in. My hearing was
still on the fritz, but it slid in and out. The modulated voice boomed through the room around us.
"Are you fucking serious?" he asked, incredulously. "I'm Darkstalker. There's not a door in
existence that can stop me, you little fucking runt."
He laid a gloved hand against the glass door.
I looked up at him for a long second as my brain swam to make sense of what the fuck was
going on.
 Darkstalker stared at the glassy prison for a second, and then slammed a fist against it with a
howl of rage. He didn't pass through as he ought to have done. I realized just what the fuck had
happened as he pummeled the glass door, over and over. It was like watching a kid throw a temper
tantrum. The super was trapped there, like a bug under a microscope.
And I'd just stolen his powers.

Chapter 2
Confused elation rushed through my body and chased away the pain from the wounds. I knew
they'd be back later, with interest, but I pulled myself up to my feet, and watched the hooded former
super slam his fists against the glass and howl in impotent rage.
Giselle straightened up, stared at Darkstalker with astonishment, and glanced back at me. I
picked up the pistol from the floor and checked the magazine as casually as I could.
I still had two rounds left.
I stowed the gun back in its holster, and a new window appeared in front of my vision. The
shape and style of the notification reminded me of my dad's custom software from SilverSky, and I
paid close attention to the words while pulling back on my utter shock.

[Darkstalker Powers Actualized]

[Shadow Stealth]
[Lock Breach]
[Resilience]
[No Active Powers]

The ringing in my ears died down enough to hear Giselle's voice.

"Dean, you're bleeding everywhere," she said, her voice tight with worry.
I glanced down at my bloodstained t-shirt. The cuts weren't deep, thankfully, but they were ugly
as hell and had still opened up plenty of real estate on my skin. I needed to get them closed sooner
rather than later, but I needed answers before anything else.
"Hey, edgelord in green," I called out. "Can you hear me?"
The cloaked figure halted his tirade for a second. He stared at me with silent rage.
I adopted the most annoying grin I could pull off and strolled closer to the pod. I'd stripped
paint off his mask with my headshots, and the guy's stance was slightly off-kilter, like someone had
pounded him in the balls repeatedly.
Oh, wait.
"Fuck you," the modular voice spit out, higher than it had been before.
"I made it a rule to not do the mask thing again," I told him. "Amsterdam was wild like that.
Who sent you after us?"
The masked figure didn't say a word, just glared daggers at me.
"I'm short on time," I said, my voice losing its playful edge. "So I'm gonna give you until the
count of three. Then she's gonna open up the pod again." I made a show of checking the chamber of
my pistol. "I don't know what just happened to you, but I'm gonna guess that the sauce that makes you
bulletproof isn't there anymore."
The super shrank away from the door as Giselle laid a hand on the panel. Damn, I liked the girl.
She had guts, and she'd had the presence of mind to close the pod on Darkstalker after he'd kicked me
out of it like a ragdoll. Her emerald-green gaze rested coolly on the cloaked figure, and she glanced at
me with an emotionless expression.
"Whenever you're ready," she said flatly.
I tapped the gun against my thigh. "Okay. One."
Darkstalker trembled visibly under his suit as I raised my pistol to cover the entrance of the pod.
I didn't know what the pod was made out of, but it was a safe bet to assume it was tougher than it
looked. Darkstalker's body language wasn't Terminator-scary anymore, either. He looked like a kid
who'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Two," I said, and raised the gun.
"All right, all right!" the super screamed. "Please, don't open the door!"
He dropped the huge knife and raised his hands to show he was unarmed. I didn't lower the gun,
but Giselle did withdraw her hand from the panel, just a little. My back, arm, and side throbbed
painfully, reminding me I was losing blood, and I went with the most important question at the top of
the list.
"Are you Pinnacle?" I demanded.
The costumed guy's eyes widened in horror, but he inched his head down in the slightest nod.
His whole body shuddered, like someone had just hit him with a taser, and blood exploded from
the eye holes in his mask. It painted the walls of the pod in sudden scarlet, and Darkstalker dropped
like a stone. I stared at the corpse for a long moment, and Giselle shrank away from the pod. She
covered her mouth and staggered back into one of the benches.
"Fuck," I said.
"Dean, I'm--"
She dropped to her knees and threw up, violently. I winced in sympathy at the sight. My first
time hadn't been any different. This was probably the closest she'd ever been to being violently killed.
I paced over to the control panel and opened the pod. The door hissed open, and I checked the
corpse as quickly as I could. The shots would have echoed through the neighborhood, and the police
were probably on their way.
And the edgy hero had been Pinnacle. Which meant that we were the bad guys.
Blood dripped out of the mask as I tore it off Darkstalker's head. He didn't look like much
underneath it, but that was probably because blood had violently pushed its way out of every orifice in
his head.
It had to be the work of another super. I'd seen suicide pills and the like before, but nothing that
could kill a man like this. I glanced around the room, thinking that maybe someone had been within
eyeshot to kill him like this, but there was no one around. Whoever had made his skull implode had to
be powerful if they were capable of killing Darkstalker remotely.
I quickly searched the rest of the body. Darkstalker had traveled clean. There wasn't any sign of
a radio, a phone, or anything that could tie him back to the people who'd sent him after us.
I briefly considered taking his costume-armor hybrid, but it would take too long to strip down
the body, and it'd leave the situation looking even worse than it already did. I straightened up, left the
corpse in the pod, and slid my gun back into its holster.
Giselle pulled herself up by the edge of a table and grimaced.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, "I don't know what--"
"Don't worry about it," I said reassuringly. "Happens to most people."
"You've seen something like that before?"
"Not like that exactly," I admitted. "Come on, we need to get the fuck out of here."
We ran for the exit. Darkstalker had left the doors open, and I made sure to lock them behind us.
It would delay anyone from finding the remains of a former superhero a little bit, and if I knew
anything about Pinnacle, they would have their fingers all over the place sooner rather than later.
Giselle jumped into the driver's side of the sedan, started it up, and reversed down the driveway
way too fast.
I put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, slow down."
She hissed out a deep breath, nodded, and eased off the gas. The front gate was wide open--
courtesy of Darkstalker's Lock Breach power, probably--and it made it that much easier to get on the
road and out of the neighborhood.
Giselle took slow, long, deep breaths, and my admiration for her resolve just kept on climbing
higher. It wasn't often that someone could shake off a huge adrenaline dump like that and keep
moving.
"Hey," I said. "How are you feeling?"
Her hands trembled around the steering wheel. "I am freaking out. I am losing my fucking mind
right now, Dean." She clung to her breathing pattern, in and out, until she asked me exactly the same
question I'd been pondering for the last five minutes. "Why did Pinnacle send a superhero to kill us?"
"I don't know. I honestly have no idea."
"They don't--" Giselle swore under her breath. "They don't do that. They don't kill people, not
unless there's no other way. But he came after us like we were supervillains."
"We'll ask the hard questions later. First things first. We need a dodgy motel. Somewhere close
to the highway that takes cash."
"Why can't we go back to my place?"
"Blood's hard to get out of carpet," I said. "And I don't want to take any risks right now. First
priority is getting the hell off the street, and as far away from this place as we can."
"You think they're tracking us? Tracking me?"
"Just worry about the road," I assured her.
Giselle went quiet as we swept out into the evening and left Callisto behind us. I leaned back
into the seats of the car and tried to lessen my profile. The blood on my shirt stood out like a stripper
at a youth group, but there wasn't much I could do about it.
Ten minutes of terse silence passed, until Giselle asked another question.
"You've done this before, haven't you?" she asked.
"Almost gotten killed by a super?"
"Gone on the run. Dodged the police. Killed people." She pushed the sedan up a ramp and onto
the highway. "You're way too calm about it. Like it's normal for you."
"I've been in scraps before, yeah. But not in the States, and not like this."
"I must be losing my mind," Giselle said, half to herself. "Why didn't we wait for the police?
Talk to them about what happened?"
"Pinnacle just sent an assassin after us, Giselle. They work hand in glove with the police. And,
so far as they're concerned, we just killed one of their own." I grimaced as a fresh wave of pain hit me.
"Trust me, we don't want to talk to the cops right now."
"We could at least go to a hospital," she argued. "Get you patched up."
"There should be a medical kit in the back of the car. Dad never let anyone leave home without
one. It'll be enough for now, at least until we figure out what the hell's going on."
"Something happened," she continued. "You took his powers away. Or the machine did."
"Yeah, I'm still hung up on that too."
"How?" she asked.
I thought about it for a minute. "I have no fucking clue. I've never been a super, never had all
the bells and whistles and tight outfits. Hell, I'm bleeding all over the seat right now. I'm not
bulletproof, and I've definitely never done anything crazy like fly or teleport."
"But you beat him," Giselle pressed.
"Yeah, I did. Don't know how." I raised a tired hand to stop another tide of questions and
nodded to an exit off the highway. "Down there looks like the right kind of place."
Giselle steered the sedan off the highway. The streetlights whipped dizzily past my vision as we
entered Downtown. Dollar stores, pawn shops, and low-set apartment complexes welcomed us in.
Bars and the odd strip joints stood out with their glowing neon signs.
Giselle pulled up beside a rundown-looking bar with a dancing cowboy beside the sign. A
greasy old motel stood tucked away beside the drinking hole.
I pressed a couple of hundreds into Giselle's hand.
"Ask for a room," I said. "Say it's a last minute thing, and you want to keep it quiet."
She eyed me critically. "What about you?"
"I'll get the medkit and meet you when you come back out," I promised her.
Giselle slid out of the car without another word, and I waited until she'd stepped into the motel's
lobby to get out of the car and walk to the trunk. A sizable case of medical supplies sat tucked away
next to the wheel-well, and I lifted it out with a grunt. Everything hurt, but I was still alive, and I'd
won a fight with a super.
That was more than just about anyone could say.
My mind drifted to the powers, and that same damned notification window popped up in my
vision again. Giselle hadn't seen it earlier, in the lab, which meant that this was purely something I
could see.

[No Active Powers]

I frowned at the words and tried to figure out exactly what they meant. The names of the powers
were obvious enough, but what did 'no active powers' mean? The window shrank, and then resized
itself with new text.

[No Active Powers]

[Would you like to activate a power?]
[Y / N]

"Fuck yeah, I do," I said aloud. "What have you got for me?"

Chapter 3
Shadow Stealth, Lock Break, and Resilience appeared across my vision, and I thought about
each of them in turn carefully.
If they were really Darkstalker's powers, then the Shadow Stealth power must have been the
thing that let him melt in and out of walls like a wraith. It was an amazing ability, but I could see a few
weaknesses with it. Daylight, for one. And I had no idea how it would even work, or if I was just
hallucinating from blood loss.
The second power was self-explanatory enough. But it was the third one that caught my eye.
Was it Resilience that had allowed the edgy punk to shrug off my bullets? Was it the source of his
greater-than-human strength? Or did it mean something else completely?
I glanced down at myself, my stained t-shirt, and bleeding wounds.
 Yeah, the Resilience power was a no-brainer.
"Activate Resilience," I said aloud.
The window winked out of sight without any fanfare, and nothing happened. Another pulse of
pain pumped through my body, and I grimaced as I made my way back to the car. The dark leather
seats made the blood a little harder to see, but I wasn't in a good shape. I needed to get the wounds
closed, fast, and stay off my feet for a few days at minimum.
A movement from the hotel caught my eye, and Giselle appeared at the front door of the lobby.
She gestured for me to follow her, and I crossed the street as quickly as I could. The last thing I
wanted was some do-gooder reporting a guy covered in blood in a sketchy Downtown district, but it
was a weeknight. The parking lot was almost empty.
Giselle led me down a side alley and into the backlot of the bar. A row of numbered doors
appeared on the left, and my dad's former assistant didn't waste any time in getting number 12 opened
and beckoning me inside.
The room was exactly what I'd expected. A single double bed took up most of the space. A tiny
kitchenette was attached to a surprisingly big bathroom. The smell of cheap disinfectant hung in the
air.
I dropped the medical case on the bed, pulled it open, and found the sutures with aching fingers.
"Let me," Giselle said.
"I can get some of it done--"
"Shut up and sit down," Giselle said, in a warning tone.
I eyed her for a moment and defused the tension with a grin.
"Only because you asked so nicely."
My shirt stung my skin as I pulled it over my head, dropped it on the ground, and pulled up a
chair beside the bed. At least the blood wouldn't show up too easily on the carpet.
I sat down with my back facing Giselle, while she rummaged through the medkit with a
practiced eye. I double-checked the windows, but thick off-yellow curtains shrouded us from any
onlookers, and I had a good feeling a place like this would take its lodgers' privacy seriously.
"Shit," Giselle muttered. "You look like a passion play."
"But I feel terrible." I chuckled.
Giselle loaded sutures into a small, easy-to-use staple gun. The sting of disinfectant made me
clench my teeth. I wasn't a doctor, but I'd patched myself up often enough to know that I could take
the pain. Pain was a teacher, after all, and right now it was teaching me a lesson about getting into
fights with machete-wielding super-maniacs.
"How are you holding up?" I asked.
"You're the one bleeding everywhere and you're asking me that?" Giselle asked.
"This isn't exactly my first rodeo. But you're not used to it, so yeah, I'm asking."
"I don't know what Brandon had in mind when he asked me to take you to a hidden location,
but I'm pretty sure it wasn't this," Giselle muttered. "I'm freaking out, Dean. I'm scared beyond fucking
belief, and the fact that Pinnacle sent someone in to kill us just makes it worse. And what's worse is
that you're taking it in stride, you know what to do, and that just freaks me out even more. Because I
think you're right."
Giselle started on my ribs with the disinfectant. I tried to focus on the pleasant warmth of her
fingers rather than the sting of the chemical. She dropped to her knees beside me, and her eyes
widened as she spotted the wave of battle scars over my arms and side.
"Is that a gunshot wound?" she asked, and tapped a circular scar on my shoulder.
"Yeah, healed up nicely. Got into trouble in the Netherlands." I bit back a hiss of discomfort and
pushed my mind ahead to our next objective. "We'll have to assume the worst, and that Pinnacle
knows who you are, where you live, and they're watching for you to go home."
"Why me and not you?"
"Because they won't have shit on me. Haven't been in the States for years, and whatever they
can find out won't be anything concrete. Dad made sure to take care of that when he sent me off for
training." I stretched out my arm, and Giselle wiped down the crusted blood from my skin and cleaned
out the wound. "The mission hasn't changed. We've still got to track down the Basement, and start a
conversation with them."
Giselle reached back for the staple gun and went to work. The steady clicks sent pain through
my skin, and I pushed it into the back of my mind while she closed up the knife cuts with clean
precision.
"So, to summarize," she said, "you're some kind of black-ops killer who is pretty much a ghost,
you've just killed a superhero after taking away his powers, and now you want to go and make friends
with a known criminal terrorist organization." She moved around to close up my arm and shook her
head. "No, it gets better. You want me to help you."
"I didn't say you had to help," I clarified. "You can take the money, stay on the downlow for a
couple of weeks, until all of this blows over and they've got bigger fish to fry. I won't stop you, and
once I'm done, I'll find you. Short of that, you can go to the police. But I wouldn't suggest it."
Giselle thought about it for a moment. "You might've gotten killed without my help."
"No might've about it. If you hadn't sealed him up, Darkstalker would've taken my head off.
Takes guts to push past the adrenaline, and even more to think ahead in a scenario like that." I bit back
a growl of discomfort again. "You're resourceful, and you've got guts, Giselle. I'm glad you're here."
She clipped the last of the sutures into my arm and started on my side without a reply.
Now that the adrenaline had died down, my baser instincts took notice of how amazing she
looked on her knees, the view that her open-necked blouse offered, and just how incredible her eyes
looked as they narrowed with concentration on the task at hand.
Her gaze flickered up to meet mine, and a flash of color slipped into her cheeks.
I endured another minute or two of sutures, and Giselle stood up. She packed up the medkit
with practiced motions, clipped it closed, and left it on the bedside, pausing to stand there.
A tense silence had settled in the air after my compliment, and Giselle watched me for a long
moment without saying anything.
"I'll say this for you, Dean Silver," she said, finally. "You make life interesting."
I rose from the chair and tucked it back under the tiny desk beside the room's main window. Her
gaze followed me and lingered on my bare chest with instinctive interest. I rolled my shoulders, felt
the slight tension of the stitching, and made a mental note not to get too crazy about any physical
activity in the near future.
"I try," I said. "I'm sorry we couldn't get dinner at that Italian place."
"Maybe it's for the best," Giselle said with a smile. "Raincheck?"
"Raincheck," I agreed, and took a tentative step toward the bathroom.
I'd expected firebombs in my nervous system, but the pain was already at manageable levels.
Something had lessened it, but Giselle hadn't given me any anesthetic.
My mind flashed back to the powers I'd supposedly gained, and I mentally tried to summon the
weird menu. I jolted in surprise as it appeared in my vision again like a damn stat readout in an MMO
or something.

[Active Powers]
 [Resilience]

[Stored Powers]
[Shadow Stealth]
[Lock Break]
[Resilience]

"Are you okay?" Giselle asked, concerned.

I dismissed the window with a thought and hesitated. "Yeah. Better than okay."
"You look like you're seeing things," she pressed.
"I don't think I am," I said slowly.
Her brows came together into an adorable frown. "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence,
you know. You might think you're an action hero, but you've got limits."
She might have been right, but the pain retreated further from my body as I pushed on toward
the bathroom. The stitches stung, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it should've been. I'd been shot,
stabbed, and cut up plenty of times before. I had a pretty good understanding of my pain threshold,
and how to handle it, but I'd never felt anything like this before. I fired a grin over my shoulder at
Giselle and offered her a shrug.
"If I do, I haven't found them yet," I said.
I pulled the door closed behind me and stripped down. I placed the pistol with its two rounds on
the vanity. My clothes were ruined, and I couldn't expect to move around in the city covered in
bloodstains and stitches.
I needed new threads, more ammo, and a way to find the Basement. I knew my dad well enough
to figure that he had more caches set up, other safehouses for me to find, but experience had taught me
that they wouldn't be available until I'd completed the first part of his Story Quest.
I got out of my boots, socks, and pants, and ran the faucet as hot as I could manage. With fresh
wounds, I couldn't risk having a shower and getting them wet. For now, I'd have to settle with washing
the parts of me that weren't cut up.
As I wiped myself over with a warm cloth, my mind drifted to Giselle in the next room. I rinsed
off the dried blood and ran my hands over the neatly-stitched wounds. They already felt tighter, as if
I'd rested up for a couple of days. Dad's old research assistant would have made a hell of a trauma
medic in another life.
I smiled to myself as I looked at the shower. If the wounds had already come this far, maybe a
hot shower wasn't out of the question? I ran the water until steam filled the bathroom, then I slipped
beneath the warm water with a sigh of appreciation.
I opened my eyes again as the bathroom door slid open, and Giselle stepped into the bathroom.
Her heels were gone, and her eyes fixed on me through the shower with a strange certainty. I paused
my cleaning ritual for a second, stunned. A smile touched her face as her fingers drifted down to the
buttons on her blouse. She undid them slowly, one at a time, but didn't take her eyes off me for a
second.
Desire, lust, and hunger set my nervous system ablaze.
Giselle opened her blouse and pulled it smoothly down over her arms. A lacy white bra
supported a gorgeous, handful-sized pair of breasts, and she gently squeezed her chest with a smirk.
Her hands drifted lower, over a smooth, taut belly, and she eased her slacks over her hourglass hips
with the same patient, teasing sways.
My throat went dry, and something roared in my ears as she stepped out of her slacks and
approached the shower. She laid a hand on the steam-washed glass and cast an appreciative eye over
my naked, scarred skin.
"Giselle?" I heard myself ask, in a raw growl.
Her smile turned almost shy at my voice, but she didn't hesitate for a second. She unclipped her
bra with a practiced motion, dropped it at her feet, and bared her breasts, tipped with firm nipples.
Her panties were next, and I couldn't help but stare at her smooth, shaved mound and sex. The
stunning blonde pulled the shower door open and stepped sensuously into the shower beside me with a
sigh. The steaming water crashed into her, and as I opened my mouth to say something, she pressed a
fingertip against my lips.
"It's been an insane day," Giselle said quietly. "I'm tied up in knots, and so are you. Let's just let
go, together. Don't make it any more complicated than it needs to be, okay?"

Chapter 4
Giselle's hand drifted down over my chin and came to rest on my chest. Steam billowed out
around us, and water crashed down on her straight hair and flattened it against her shoulders.
I fought off the urge to just take her, then and there, and instead let her lead the way. Giselle slid
closer, pressed her slick, warm body against mine, and kissed me. She tasted like coffee, honey, and
something else, something musky and comforting. Her teeth teased my lip for a moment. My hands
found her round, firm ass, and a soft gasp of surprise buzzed into our kiss.
She pressed herself harder against me, driving me back against the freezing tiles of the shower.
My hands drifted up, over her back, and under her arms.
Giselle moaned into the kiss as my hands found her breasts and squeezed her gently. She
slipped her hand around my shaft and pumped me with a smooth, practiced rhythm that kicked my
brain over into pure animal mode.
I pushed off the wall, lifted her up off the ground, and put her up against the glass wall of the
shower. Her legs kicked up and wrapped around my waist as a hungry snarl rolled out of her throat.
Her tongue found mine, and I angled myself until I pressed up against her entrance.
Giselle bucked her hips and drove me inside her. Her whole body shuddered from the sheer
intensity of it. She was warm, tight, and soaking wet. My grip tightened, fingers sinking into her ass.
I drove up into her. Her fingernails dug into my back and neck hard enough to draw blood.
Everything about her felt incredible. Her smooth skin, lean muscle, and her mouth against mine
washed away any of the pain leftover from the earlier fight.
"Harder," she moaned in my ear. "Fuck, Dean, harder, please--"
I drove up into her with everything I had. Glass creaked. Our hips smacked sloppily. Her spine
arched up, her toes curled, and her thighs clenched up against mine.
Giselle spasmed around my shaft with a deep moan that sent tingles rippling down my spine
like a lightning rod. She clung to me for a long moment, but I eased up my pace, and she released her
hold around me with her legs.
I let her back down to her feet as fresh spasms of pleasure rolled through her body. Giselle's
knees trembled for a moment, and her emerald-green eyes found mine in a rush of satisfaction, edged
with fresh hunger.
She bumped the shower door open with an elbow, caught hold of my arm, and hauled me out
with surprising strength for her willowy frame. I went with her, and she spun around to place her
hands down on the vanity. I stared down at her lean frame, her fantastic ass, and she glanced over her
shoulder with a sexy smirk.
 The fire she'd started burned hotter through my veins.
"You waiting for a starting gun or something?" Giselle teased. "Take me."
I smacked her ass, hard, and a throaty purr rolled out of her throat.
"Don't be gentle," she urged.
My fingers curled in her soaked hair, and I edged her legs apart with my knees. I waited for a
long second, just to taunt her, before I took her from behind with a single deep stroke.
Giselle collapsed against the sink with a needy moan, and I pumped in and out of her as hard as
I could. Her tight wetness drove me insane, and all conscious thoughts took a backseat. I drilled her,
harder, faster, until her legs almost gave out completely.
I slammed my hips against her ass, over and over again, until another rippling orgasm exploded
through her body. She came louder and harder and faster the second time, but the throbbing need in
my shaft didn't abate for a single second. I pulled out of her, and Giselle collapsed to her knees with a
groan of satisfaction.
"Fuuuuck," she murmured. "I needed that."
She twisted around and leaned her back against the sink with a sigh. Her eyes fixed on my rock-
hard shaft, and her lips twisted into another devilish smile.
Giselle wrapped her fingers around my cock, still slick with her juices, and gazed up into my
eyes. She looked like a fucking sex goddess, naked on the bathroom floor, with those long, strong legs
curled under her.
She stroked me, firmly, and her smirk widened as yet another hungry snarl rolled out of my
chest. Giselle pushed herself up onto her knees, ran her tongue over my shaft with maddening
slowness, maintaining a smooth rhythm with her hand.
My knees trembled at her touch. Before I completely lost control, I bent down and caught her
under the arms. Giselle yelped in surprise as I lifted her up onto the sink again, pulled her legs up over
my shoulders, and drove my cock into her.
She moaned, reached around her thighs, and dug her fingernails into my hips to pull me in
deeper, harder. I fucked her wet slit, until my breathing caught and a tidal wave of tingling pleasure
spread out from my hips and flooded my every nerve.
I managed to pull free of her before I came, and white splattered all over her thighs.
Giselle didn't release her grip on my sides. She pulled me up against her with a grin. My whole
body tingled as I orgasmed onto her, over and over again, thick white ropes coating her taut, gorgeous
curves.
When my brain finally emerged from the hazy bliss, I found myself still pinning her down. She
wiggled her calves against my shoulders, and I took it as a cue to step back.
Sensuously slow, she lowered her long, cum-stained legs to the floor, causing lines of seed to
lick down the contours of her breasts and tummy as she straightened. After a glance at the erotic mess
over her body, she gave me a smile that would have tested the chastity of a monk.
"Shit, Dean," she murmured. "I wasn't the only one who was pent-up."
I gestured to the shower door again, and Giselle slipped past me with a twinkle in her eye. My
thoughts did a double-time hop-and-skip past all of the potential consequences of sex with her, and
instead I just enjoyed being close with her in the shower. Giselle paid special attention to the wounds
she'd stitched up, and she gasped as she ran a hand over the one on my side.
"It's already started to close," she said, astonished. "I was going to tell you off for showering so
soon after, but it looks like you're already halfway healed."
"I think I might've picked up some residual juice from the super," I said.
Giselle traced her fingers over the cuts with a shake of her head. "So you didn't just drain him?
You stole his powers from him?"
I used hot water and cheap soap to lather up Giselle's skin and explored her body appreciatively.
"I think I might have, yeah. I didn't want to mention it to you earlier because I wasn't sure whether it
was even possible. I'm not sure how it works, but it gave me options, and I picked one called
Resilience. Maybe it helps with healing? Or toughness?"
"You definitely had more energy that I'd have thought," Giselle noted. "You were bleeding all
over the place earlier, but it didn't stop you from fucking like a pornstar."
"Your idea." I chuckled.
"True."
We lapsed into a comfortable silence, got ourselves cleaned up, and headed to bed wrapped in
towels. I took the gun and the cash with me, left them close to hand on a bedside table, and settled
down on the edge of the bed.
Giselle flopped down into the mattress with a contented sigh and gestured for me to join her.
"Please don't tell me you're thinking about taking a watch," she said.
"Pretty sure we're safe here for a night, but it wouldn't hurt to be careful."
"Worry about the specifics later, hero. Get some sleep."
I laid down beside her, and Giselle tossed a bare leg over my hips. She was warm, still damp,
and her skin felt incredible against mine. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept beside someone,
and although I knew that the Pinnacle and the cops would be on the hunt for us, I was a light sleeper.
If anyone tried kicking the door down, they'd have another thing coming.
The parasympathetic backlash of the adrenaline, the fighting, and the sex took its toll, and I
closed my eyes and found sleep waiting for me.
Just before I slipped into dreamland, a window appeared in the dark.

[Imprint Complete]
[Shadow Stealth]
[Lock Break]
[Resilience]

Chapter 5
I woke when Giselle stirred the next morning. Light bled through the mustard curtains, and I sat
up with a burst of alarm.
Giselle pulled the covers tighter around herself with a sleepy murmur, and I kicked the sheets
off myself. I hadn't imagined the status window from last night, but what the hell did 'imprint' mean? I
called up the window in my head again, and it popped into my vision like magic.

[Active Powers]
[Resilience]

[Stored Powers]
[Shadow Stealth]
[Lock Break]
[Resilience]

It was the same as it had been last night, but a small arrow had appeared on the side of the
window, implying another sub-menu. I focused on the arrow, and the window formed into a new one.
It spat out new lists of information, which just begged more questions to be answered.

[Safe Zone Not Found]

[Power Selection Disabled]

"Then how the hell did I manage it yesterday?" I muttered aloud.

"Dean?" Giselle asked. "What's going on?"
I turned to look at her, and the window shifted. It hovered beside Giselle's face, and new
information scrolled past my vision with quick, precise movements.

[Scanning Female Subject]

[Hero Tag Not Found]

[Active Powers]
[Shadow Stealth]
[Lock Break]
[Resilience]

"Dean?" Giselle pressed, the box still hovering beside her face. Clearly, the information I was
reading was about her and not me. What the fuck?
I closed my mouth and worded my next sentence very carefully.
"How do you feel?"
"You're looking at me like I grew an extra head or something." She stretched. "I feel amazing,
actually. You wouldn't have thought I was tussling with a hunk last night--" She met my eyes, and
straightened up with an alarmed expression. "Why are you looking at me like that? What's going on?"
She drew the blanket up over herself, as if to hide from my gaze. The shadows of the room
flickered. Darkness crawled up around the bed and latched onto her outline in the half-light like a
living, breathing creature. It made her almost impossible to see, and she yelped in shock.
Scrambling in panic, she rolled off the bed, hit the floor, and came up in a half-crouch. The
shadows followed. Giselle stared down at her hands like they didn't belong to her.
"What the hell?" she demanded. "What's--"
"Darkstalker's powers," I breathed. "I gave them to you."
"How?" Giselle demanded. "I'm not a super, I--"
Her words hitched in her throat, and she drew a long, steadying breath. The shadows retreated
from her body and left her naked on the floor. Her emerald green eyes bored up into mine with a mix
of shock, incredulity, and no small amount of sudden excitement.
"Wait, you said this was you?"
"I don't know how," I said, "but yeah, I think it was."
"How's that possible?"
"When I figure it out, you'll be the first to know."
Giselle stared down at her hands again and screwed her face up in concentration. The shadows
leapt to hide her from sight again. It wasn't perfect, but in a half-lit room, she was almost impossible
to see. Shadow Stealth, it had to be.
A huge, manic grin formed on my face.
Giselle bounded to her feet. The shadows leapt back to the unlit corners, and she shook her head
in amazement. She had to be just as excited as I was, but for completely different reasons.
"This is crazy," she said. "Beyond crazy. The sex was incredible, but this?"
Her eyes locked onto me like a predatory wildcat. "This makes me want more."
I held up a hand to stall her next sentence. "We need to work this out, and fast. We're still on a
clock here, and we need to get moving. Get your stuff. We'll talk about it in the car."
Giselle hesitated for a fraction of a second before she nodded and raced to the bathroom with
long, graceful strides. I allowed myself a moment to appreciate her bare ass again, and then found the
TV remote. If my worst fears were realized, then we had a hell of a day ahead of us.
I flicked on the screen, and I found a major news channel.
An emergency broadcast featured a blonde woman with too much cosmetic surgery staring in
the camera with gray eyes that reminded me of gun barrels.
"--wanted for questioning for the disappearance of B-Tier superhero Darkstalker," the news
anchor said. "They should be considered armed and dangerous. Please report any sightings to the EPD
or on Pinnacle's Highwire website."
Two images played over the screen. One of them was of Giselle, poised in the midst of a
conversation in a corporate boardroom at SatSec. The second was a pixelated blur of my face, caught
on some shitty security camera. It was a picture of me in a nightclub in Amsterdam from two years
ago. I'd had a beard, then, and the sunglasses I wore made it difficult to make out my features. The
bottom of my gut dropped out as the news anchor repeated herself, and I flicked off the TV before it
could finish.
Giselle appeared from the bathroom, still buttoning up her blouse, and noticed my expression.
Something was different about her bearing. It was even more confident, radiated power. Her eyes
glittered fiercely as they came to rest on me.
"So we're outlaws, huh?" she asked.
"Looks like it. Still want to get out?"
"After all of this?" Giselle said, incredulously. "I'm never leaving your side again."
Her simple statement sent a wave of warmth through my insides. She threw my bundled-up
jeans and socks to me with a grin. I caught them, got dressed, and picked up the gun and the fat roll of
cash from the bedside table.
I had money in my pocket, a car outside with half a tank of gas, and a beautiful, superpowered
girl by my side. I'd stolen a super's powers, and somehow picked up the ability to transfer them to
Giselle. It wasn't what I'd expected from my old man, but it didn't matter. This shit was crazy. And I
loved it.
I had a Story Quest to follow up on.
It was time to find the Basement.

Chapter 6
I wrapped my loose, blood-stained t-shirt around my waist to hide the concealed gun before we
stepped out to the car. While Giselle dropped the key at the lobby, and checked us, I took the medkit
back to the car and dropped into the shotgun seat. Giselle joined me a minute or two later.
She looked incredible in the mid-morning sun, her strawberry-blonde hair almost glowing, and
those tight office clothes hugging her figure. She caught my gaze with a cheeky smile and a wink as
she started up the old sedan.
"Alright, boss, where to?" she teased.
"Dollar or secondhand store for clothes first," I said. "Drifting around shirtless isn't exactly
subtle, and I've got blood all over everything. After that, coffee and breakfast. We'll plan out our next
move from there."
"You're not worried that we'll be recognized?" Giselle asked.
"You're not wearing your glasses," I noted.
She reached up, touched her face, and her eyes widened. "Shit, I didn't even notice."
"Vision's clear?" I asked with a grin.
"Yeah, but--" Giselle's face flared into a grin again. "Holy shit, that's amazing."
"Looks like the Resilience thing isn't just for healing or toughness, then. Or maybe Darkstalker
had perfect 20-20 vision. Doesn't matter, either way. Wear your hair up, change your style of clothes,
and without the glasses, people won't recognize you."
Giselle pulled the car away from the curb and into Downtown traffic. "What about you? Won't
they recognize you from somewhere?"
"They don't have a name, and the picture on the news is from years ago. So long as we don't
stick out in a crowd, people won't even notice us. Besides, we haven't eaten in hours, and I still haven't
taken you on that date yet."
"Have I mentioned how creepy it is that you know all of this?"
"Multiple times. We want casual clothes, easy to move in. Keep the budget as low as you can
manage it. I'm guessing there's trouble ahead." I scanned the street for any interested onlookers, but
the sedan didn't catch any eyes from passersby. "Park on the street. We might need to get out of here in
a hurry."
Five minutes later, Giselle pulled up outside an old charity thrift shop. People drifted in and out
of it lazily. I gave her my clothing sizes and peeled off a hundred from the roll of cash in my pocket.
She left the car without another word.
I relaxed back into the sedan's front seat and tried to look as casual as I could without a shirt on.
The people in Downtown were a study in contrasts to the people who lived in Castillo. Plenty of
working-class types drifted by, homeless clouded the street corners, and food trucks drove toward the
Commercial District in hopes of profit from busy suit-and-tie types. It was a stark departure from the
energized, corporate environment I'd seen elsewhere in Empyrion, and it made me feel more at home.
I'd grown up in places like this in multiple different countries, and while the language barrier
had always been present, there was something to be said for the salt of the earth types.
Giselle appeared from the thrift-shop ten minutes later, and I barely recognized her. She'd left
behind the smart-casual business attire for skinny jeans, a battered pair of high-tops, and a long, loose
t-shirt that had the title of an old horror movie emblazoned across the front of it. Her hair was pulled
back into a ponytail, and without her glasses, it was tough to link her to the crisp professional I'd met
yesterday.
I leaned over and pushed open the driver's side door for her. She settled in and tossed a tote bag
on my lap.
"Damn," I said. "Didn't know you moonlighted as a vlogger."
"Better than a homeless guy who got into a fight with a kitchen blender," she replied with a
smile.
I searched the bag and found a long, loose black t-shirt without any branding. I pulled it over
my head as Giselle drove the car back out into traffic and angled us out of Downtown. Two pairs of
cheap socks, fresh underwear, and a set of torn-up jeans that were probably supposed to be fashionable
sat bundled up beside Giselle's other clothes. I untied my boots and shucked out of my jeans while she
drove, and caught Giselle's eyes drifting down to my lap as I did my best to yank the new set of pre-
loved jeans up over my hips.
 "Eyes forward," I told her. "I'm bashful, you know."
Giselle snorted. "After last night? Really?"
"Might just treat you to more of the same tonight."
Her eyes sparkled as she turned her attention back to the road. "That a promise?"
"Sure."
I cinched my belt around my waist, tucked the gun back into its place in the waistband, and
shifted a little until I was comfortable.
A quick glance in the mirror and a little grooming got me cleaned up well enough. I still looked
the same, more or less, but I'd have to bank on the lack of clarity of the old snapshots of me to hide
my identity. Empyrion was a big place, and it wasn't like I didn't have lookalikes kicking around in the
guts of the city.
Giselle left Downtown behind us and pulled up at the edge of the Commercial district. An
outdoor cafe spilled out under an expensive-looking hotel, and she muttered something about
extortionate parking as she found a spot on the street.
I laid a hand on her thigh as she checked her purse for her card.
I offered her a grin. "We're outlaws, remember?" I chuckled. "We don't pay for parking."
She frowned. "What if the car gets towed? Or we get a ticket?"
"Seriously?"
Giselle's lips curled into a rueful smile. "Sorry. Just reflex."
"They're going to take at least half an hour to get a tow truck out here," I said. "Besides, even if
they issue us a ticket, it's not like they're gonna take cash for it. Come on. Coffee awaits."
She let out a moan that only an addict could convincingly manage, and we piled out of the car
with ravenous energy. My gut snarled at the prospect of food and fresh caffeine, and I claimed a table
with chairs that backed onto a feature wall thick with modern floral designs.
I held out the chair for Giselle, and she settled into it with a flirtatious smile and a nod of
appreciation. I sat beside her, kept my eyes on the corporate types filing in and out for their cup of
liquid life, and waited for a waitress to approach our table.
Giselle's eyes flicked over me with approval.
"I have to say," she said, "you seem like you do this all the time."
"Evade the lawful authorities and take uptown girls to dirty hotels?"
"Dates," Giselle said, with a roll of her eyes. "I wouldn't think you'd have time in your line of
work. I mean, between all your overseas trips, training, and the rest of it."
I shrugged. "All right, now for the fun part."
"Which is?"
I lowered my voice, added a lovestruck grin to sell it to the other patrons, and laid a hand on her
knee under the table. Giselle's smile turned into something positively devious, and I leaned in a little
closer to her, like I was about to tell her a secret.
"We've got to find our underground friends, and I've got an idea."
"I'm guessing you're not going to put an ad on social media," Giselle mused.
"Nah," I said. "We're going to raid one of Pinnacle's sites."
She raised an eyebrow. "And you know where to start?"
"You work at SatSec, right? And you did some of their server security?"
"Sure." Her eyes widened in understanding. "I mean, they were pretty cagey about it, but we did
get into their rooms to install some of their local systems." She glanced up the street, toward the mass
of sweeping skyscrapers threatening to blot out the sky. "There's a place a couple of blocks up from
here. They were a debriefing station for local superheroes."
 "Which means they'll have information on the locals," I said. "Information that could be pretty
damn useful in our hands."
"And you're just going to walk in there and take it?"
"Nah," I said. "You are."
The college-age waitress appeared with a knowing smile. "Get you something?"
"Grande black, grande latte," I said. "And however much protein you can fit onto one plate.
Emily, what are you chasing?"
Giselle picked up on my subterfuge and let out a girlish giggle that caught me off guard. "I want
waffles. With ice cream. And chocolate sauce."
"Sounds like my kind of breakfast." The waitress grinned.
She swept her hands over a small tablet, noting our orders.
"You don't want a salad or something on the side?" The waitress asked me.
"On a carnivore diet," I told her. "Otherwise the livestock will rise up against humanity's many
injustices and take over. Can't have that. I'm not ready to bow to our bovine overlords just yet."
That got a laugh out of her. She swept away into the teeming mass of customers a moment later,
and Giselle turned back to me. Her smile faded into a worried frown.
"Are you sure? About me taking the lead on this?"
"You're the sneaky one," I said. "I'm just a blunt instrument, remember?"
She shook her head, concerned. "Dean, I don't know about this."
"I need you," I said simply. I'd not mentioned it to her, but until I found a 'Safe Zone' I couldn't
switch my powers again. "If I could do it myself, I would. But you're the one who can slip through the
locks and keep hidden in the dark. What's the security like? What are the entry points?"
Giselle took a deep breath and pulled a pile of napkins closer to herself. She whipped a pen out
of her pocket and drew a rough square diagram of the building. It was a simple enough layout, with a
lobby in front, an underground fire escape that led out of a door at street level, and a side entrance
where the employees parked and entered the building. She explained it in quick, bland terms, and I
took in the details with a smile.
"Side entrance is our best bet," I said.
"There's guards that watch it," she warned.
"I'll talk to them."
She eyed me. "Talk, huh."
"Just talk," I assured her. "They're not getting paid enough to get beaten up, trust me. I'll just
talk to them, pull them away from the door, and let you slip in through the fire door without an issue.
You know what you're looking for, right?"
"Probably just need to break through passwords, maybe steal someone's login details, and make
it look like someone made some last minute additions to reports," Giselle said with a grimace.
"Nothing too complicated, of course. Copying it is off the table, though. We built the files so that any
copies made trigger an alert."
"Can you print it?"
Giselle stifled a laugh. "What, are you from the 1900s? They wouldn't have a printer within ten
miles of here. No, we'd have to find another way around it." She thought about it for a moment longer,
and then nodded to herself. "I might be able to steal the drive itself. But they'll notice it's gone. And
what about the cameras?"
"You don't look like Giselle. By the time they know it's gone, we'll be in the wind. Unless you
want to knock them out on your way out the door?"
"Depends how much time you can buy me."
 "Oh, trust me," I said. "I'm the king of distractions."
She eyed me for a moment. "Mm-hm?"
The waitress brought us our food and coffee, and we dug in. She'd brought me exactly what I'd
asked for. Fat, greasy sausages, scrambled eggs, a small mountain of maple-flavored bacon, a side of
mushrooms, and it was all washed down with rich, strong black coffee.
Giselle went to work on her golden-brown waffles under a mountain of vanilla ice cream,
coated generously in chocolate syrup.
It was a big meal, and at any other time, I'd probably have eaten lighter. But I didn't know the
next time I'd have time to eat, and the more energy I had at my disposal, the better off I'd be.
"You think that the superpowers will keep this off my hips?" Giselle asked as she finished her
waffles and sat back with a contented sigh.
"Even if it doesn't, you'll work it off," I said. "Come on, time to leave."
We finished off our coffees in a contented silence. I scooped up the napkin, studied it closely,
and the plan finalized in my head.
There were a couple of snags, of course, but it was best to keep it simple. No plan survived first
contact with the enemy, and judging from my luck in the last couple of days when it came to supers, I
had a 50/50 chance of amazing success or abject failure.
But I trusted Giselle.
"Time to go?" she asked.
"Yeah, let's move."
I left the money for the breakfast and a generous tip under the plate.
We headed back to the car, which was mercifully absent of any parking tickets, and Giselle
drove us deeper into the Commercial District. She had a dozen questions on the tip of her tongue, but
she hadn't asked any of them yet, and I decided now was the best time to share the plan. Keeping her
in the loop was paramount, since she'd be doing most of the important work. Working within a team
wasn't exactly my usual method of operation, but she was smart, thought fast, and had sharp eyes.
And she had Darkstalker's powers.
That would definitely count for something.

Chapter 7
"What's on your mind?" I asked Giselle.
"How exactly is breaking into a Pinnacle office helping you find the Basement?" she asked
instantly. "I understand that it'll help find other powers and other supers, but what makes you think
that they'll pay attention?"
"Depends on how effective they are. If they're half as good as you've made them sound, they'll
have eyes on any movement against Pinnacle. Can't imagine there's recruits lining up for their
organization."
"From the reports, no," Giselle agreed. "So this is an audition? To get their attention?"
"Pretty much. I figure they're already looking for us, just as much as Pinnacle is. Hopefully we
get lucky, and they'll get in touch once we've slipped out of the office with some information. And if
they're not actively recruiting, then my dad sent me on a wild goose chase."
"Does that ever happen?" she asked.
"Never," I said firmly. "Somehow he's always a step ahead."
Giselle drove us through one of the main streets of the Commercial District. I noted a lack of
street vendors, homeless, and other usual mainstays of a city, but by mid morning, suits and ties
swarmed around us like a colony of money-obsessed ants.
Expensive, sleek cars slid by us, quieter than the old sedan.
Billboards flashed new advertisements every few seconds atop the glass-filled skyscrapers, and
I had a sudden sensation of being a bug under a large magnifying glass.
Giselle pulled the car into an underground parking garage off the main street. The machine
noted the make and build of the SilverSky vehicle, and I made a silent note to ditch the thing as soon
as possible. It'd make getting around harder, but with the sedan logged into a database that Pinnacle
undoubtedly had their fingers in, I didn't want to take the risk.
I tapped the hidden gun in my waistband and weighed up my options. If guns in Empyrion
really were illegal as hell, and I ended up getting patted down or put through a scanner, it'd screw over
my curious bystander act.
I decided to leave the weapon in the glovebox. Giselle watched with an approving nod and
unlocked the doors.
Giselle and I took a concrete stairway out of the garage. It deposited us neatly at street level, a
little less than a block down from the Pinnacle office.
"Run me through the specifics again," Giselle said as we started down the sidewalk.
"I'm going to distract the guards near employee parking," I said, pleased at her request. "From
there, once I get them away from the entrance, you head in the back. What's the lighting like there
around this time of day?"
"Shadowy," Giselle confirmed, "but I'm only just getting the hang of this."
"If I have to knock them out, I will," I said, "but that'll mean reinforcements. Best case scenario,
they're bored, chatty, and not extreme professionals. Slip in, do the computer stuff, and meet me back
at the cafe where we had breakfast. We don't have comms, which is a shame, but I trust you to get it
done."
"Computer stuff," Giselle said dryly. "Very tactical language."
"You're the expert," I said. "I just hit people. Think it's workable?"
"It's stupidly dangerous, illegal, and I wouldn't have been caught dead even thinking about this
last week," she said, and then her face split into a smile. "Yeah, I think I can do it."
"Attagirl," I said with a grin. "Hang back, and I'll get the party started."
We strolled through the sea of bustling citizens and stepped through a narrow side-street to the
employee parking section of the Pinnacle debriefing building. It was an innocuous place, a smaller
office suite with all the curving lines and modern architecture that you'd expect in the city of the
future.
The employee entrance bordered on a tight parking lot, lined with expensive-looking electric
SUVs and family sedans. The back entrance to the building had two wide, sweeping garden beds that
forked off in a V-shape from the door itself.
The shadows here weren't as long as I'd hoped for, but the tall buildings around us cut off direct
sunlight and gave Giselle easy routes into the back.
I stuck my thumbs in my pockets, adopted an easy, rolling gait, and strolled up to the entrance
with a cheery smile.
Two guards barred my way.
They were big guys. One was tall and lean, like a telephone pole armed with a security license
and a nightstick, and the second a boulder with the heavyset face and dull eyes to match.
Both wore custom-tailored suits, blue ties emblazoned with Pinnacle's logo. Both also had a
subtle earpiece rig that presumably linked them to the rest of the security in the building.
Shades concealed their eyes, but I knew the type. These guys weren't exactly rent-a-cops, but if
I'd had to guess, it'd been a while since either of them had been in a good scrap.
Still, their instincts were good. They honed in on the guy with the military boots and the ripped
jeans and the jaunty whistle, and ignored Giselle as she slipped into the shadows under the building's
alcove.
I held up my hands as both guards took a step forward, away from the door. I raised my
eyebrows in apparent surprise.
"Whoa, guys, whoa. Was just looking for the insurance center. Someone pointed me this way,
but it looks like they got their directions mixed up."
"Yeah, it does," the stocky guy said. "You're looking for a place a block over."
I suppressed a grin. I'd been talking out of my ass, but it was always nice to have extra reality
injected into deception. It gave you the air of credibility, but I'd cut that one close.
I peered at the two of them with a frown.
"Say, do I know you guys from somewhere?" I asked.
They exchanged a glance, and both stepped away from the glass doors. A vaguely human-
shaped shadow ghosted in from behind the right-side garden, and paused at the holo-lock that kept the
doors shut. I made sure to keep my peripherals on Giselle, but my main focus was on the tall guy off
to my left.
"Rodney?" I asked hesitantly.
The beanpole shook his head. "My name's Gary."
"Shit man, I'm sorry. Could've sworn you were Rodney for a sec. He said he got a good security
gig in uptown Empyrion. What's the job like, anyway? I figure I could cash some of my pension and
see if I can get into it."
The thickset guy chuckled. "Not as easy as you'd think, around here."
I tilted my head to give the impression of curiosity. "High bar for security guards?"
"Pinnacle do a lot of vetting through their recruitment," Gary explained proudly. "It's hard to get
in, but once you do, you're pretty well set."
The stouter guy elbowed Gary in the arm, turning his attention back to me. The door popped
silently open behind them, and a mass of shadows slid through the opening and into the office
building.
A thrill of excitement trembled through my body, and I added it into my performance for the
security guys. A grin split my face, and I took a step closer with obvious excitement on my face. All I
had to do was keep these guys talking for another ten minutes.
The boulder-like guard eyed me up and down, and his expression softened slightly.
"Where'd you serve?" he asked.
"All over. Lot of peacekeeping detachments in Europe," I said, half-lying.
"So you were a tourist," the big guy snorted.
"Courtesy of Uncle Sam," I confirmed, "although it did get spicy in places. What's your name, if
you don't mind my asking?"
"What's it to you?" the round guy asked, out of reflex, rather than genuine irritation.
"Need references for the CV," I joked. "Hell, if you guys weren't on the job, I'd ask if you
wanted to get a beer. What's the gig like here? Get much action?"
The big guy huffed a laugh. "I'm Kaiden. And nah, doesn't get interesting much."
I frowned. "What about those Basement guys? Wouldn't they be lining up to take a shot at you?
I'm from out of town, but I'm seeing reports about 'em everywhere."
Gary chuckled. "Well, they'd have to get out from behind their keyboards first. Bitches like that
don't have any real understanding of how the world works, and what Pinnacle does for the country."
 I frowned. "So, they're all talk?"
Kaiden snorted. "You've got to know the type, right?"
"Talk shit online, doesn't know the pointy-end of a knife from the other," I said with a wink.
"Let alone a rifle. Probably all intimidation tactics, though, right? Nothing real?"
"Well, if it was real, and they really thought that the Big Three were a problem, they'd be doing
something about it," Gary argued. "So they're full of shit. And they're pussies. Just kids with too much
time on their hands and envious old guys who wish they had powers themselves."
I nodded, took it in, and noted a movement behind Tweedledee and Tweedledumber. It was a
smaller, lean-looking guy in tight spandex. A custom helmet hid his face, shaped in the likeness of
some demonic bull. Armor plating covered his forearms and chest.
My gut dropped at the sight of this new arrival, but I maintained my friendly smile as the super
stepped through the employee's entrance. I didn't recognize the guy on sight, but my knowledge of
Pinnacle's superheroes was sketchy at best, so I thought it best to let the guy talk first.
And talk he did.
"What the fuck is this?" he demanded.
Gary and Kaiden both looked away from me, and genuine fear hardened their expressions.
Demon-Face had a reputation, then, and he liked to swing his dick around.
I took another step forward with a calming gesture, palms open and facing outward.
"Just shooting the shit," I assured him. "Nothing harmful in it."
The super turned his helmet to focus on me. Narrow eyeslits flashed red, and if I'd been a tech
guy, I would have guessed that the helmet had an in-built scanner for weapons. I was suddenly glad I'd
left the gun in the car.
I tilted my head as he stared at me with unnerving intensity.
"Am I breaking any laws?" I asked innocently.
"You're trespassing on private property," the super snarled. "And distracting security from
keeping their eyes open for any terrorists or supervillains."
I made a show of checking over my shoulder. "Shit, that happens here?"
An animalistic, almost mechanical growl rippled out of the helmet. "Do you have any idea
where the fuck you are? Or who the fuck I am? Or are you just another junkie looking for a picture?"
This guy seemed like he was edging for a fight, and there was no way I could take him on, and
causing a scene would cause problems for Giselle.
I swallowed back the bile that had crept up into my throat as I thought on how to defuse the
situation.

Chapter 8
I lowered my hands. "Well, I'm pretty sure I'm not in immediate danger of being attacked by a
supervillain. Now that you're here to scare them off. And the boys here are pretty alert, really. You
should look into giving them a raise."
Kaiden stared at me in astonishment, and a small grin crossed my face.
I shifted back a half-step as the super stormed forward and pinned me with a glare. It would've
been terrifying if I hadn't already had to deal with Darkstalker. I had five inches on him, easily, not
that he seemed to care. I didn't know what the guy's powers were, but his getup looked ridiculous, and
his obvious need to be the alpha male rubbed me the wrong way.
"You didn't answer my question," he snarled. "Do you know who the fuck I am?"
"Can't say I do," I replied. "Bullhead? Uh, Cowpoke? Steer, maybe?"
 Gary bit back an incredulous laugh at my names as the super grew visibly pissed. Any more
from me, and there'd be steam blasting out the sides of his helmet. The guy had a hell of a temper, at
the very least.
"Bullrush," the super spat. "I'm Bullrush. And I think you're pretending not to know."
I held up my hands again. "Take it easy, mister Bullrush, sir. I'm from out of town. Don't know
all the local supers. Sorry if I offended you."
Red eyes fixed on mine, and I had a sudden feeling I'd stepped on an active land mine.
"Get the fuck out of here," Bullrush ordered.
I glanced at Kaiden and Gary. "Is he in charge of security, guys?"
"It'd be a good idea to move on," Kaiden said woodenly. "He's right, we're on duty."
"Yeah, but I'm not a threat. Got the buildings mixed up, is all."
"You got a learning disability?" Bullrush demanded.
I frowned. "I mean, it'd explain some things, but I'm not diagnosed."
"Funny guy." Bullrush sneered. "Real funny. You make me ask you again, and they'll have to
carry you out of here in an ambulance."
I sized up the super and noted his stance. The spandex-clad superfuck had his weight forward,
his head down, and his feet were too spread out. He quivered with an excited energy to do violence,
and he had neither the restraint nor the calm bearing that came with guys I actually took as a serious
threat. However, superpowers kind of negated all that.
Kaiden and Gary stepped forward to back him up, but they looked hesitant. Their hands rested
on utility belts under their jackets, close by to nonlethal discouragement tools, but the guards didn't
see me as a threat.
"Alright, jeez. Don't get your spandex in a knot, dude. I'm going." I took a sizeable step back
and half-turned as if to leave.
Bullrush lunged off his front foot at me in an unprovoked attack.
His feet blurred under him as he pumped his legs to get some momentum, and he lowered his
head like a battering ram. The air around him coalesced into a rippling field of energy, and my fight-
or-flight response tossed a coin.
It landed fight-side up.
I snapped my hips to the side, and Bullrush tore through the space I'd been a moment earlier.
The sheer speed of his sudden approach pushed the air away from him, much like a speeding truck,
but I'd timed it perfectly.
I dropped my center of gravity and shot my legs out to snare him in a scissor throw. Bullrush
blew through my attempt like I was made out of paper, and I spun away from him.
One of the concrete garden-beds stopped my momentum, and the air shot out of my lungs like a
cannon. I hit the outer carpet like a sack of bricks, but I tracked Bullrush.
My attempt had staggered him for just a moment, and he stumbled into a spectacular trip that
carried him about ten feet across the parking lot. The weird force-field clung to his body as he
smashed into the side of a SUV, blew the door inward, and shattered the windows out. A piercing
alarm exploded from the wrecked vehicle, and I pushed myself up to my feet with a grunt.
Kaiden and Gary stared at me in astonishment for a moment, but their training took over.
I'd just tried to fuck with one of their supers, and they couldn't have that.
Batons snapped open, and they closed in in a flanking attack. Two fit dudes with stout, arm-
length sticks were a short-term problem, but I was more concerned about Bullrush behind me.
I closed in on Gary as he drew his arm back. I jammed his arm and blew his feet out from under
him with a classic foot sweep. He gasped as his feet flew up over his head, but I caught his suit lapel
and dumped him on his back, rather than his neck. He slammed into the ground with an explosion of
breath, stunned, and I scooped up his baton as Kaiden swung around to face me.
"Nothing personal," I promised him.
He pulled his teeth back into a snarl. "Who the fuck are you?"
A screech of metal from the parking lot heralded Bullrush's return and caught Kaiden off-guard.
His overhead swing was slow to start up, and I easily parried it with a quick flick of my own weapon.
Bullrush hauled his face out of the ruined SUV, wheeled around toward the two of us, and broke
into another sprint.
Kaiden snapped a diagonal strike at my jaw, but I blocked the stick and blew a kick into his
rock-solid gut. The impact shot him back a few steps, and I reeled back just as Bullrush reached us.
He missed me by inches, raced through the space between us, and crashed face-first through the
glass doors of Pinnacle's debriefing station. A second alarm blared off in the building, adding to the
chaos, and Kaiden stared after the super while his brain struggled to keep up with everything. I could
have coldcocked him then and there, but instead dropped my stolen nightstick beside Gary, and
sprinted away.
Adrenaline sang through my bloodstream, rich and sweet, and drove me through the parking lot
like an Olympic sprinter.
I had to get clear.
Bullrush obviously had my number, and he was tough enough to break bulletproof glass with
his face. It wasn't the coolest superpower I'd seen, but it was plenty dangerous. If I hadn't acted fast,
Kaiden might have been paste on the carpet outside the door he was paid to guard. Giselle was still in
the building, but now every alarm had been triggered.
Upside? They were looking for me, not a gorgeous woman in a band tee.
A screeching crash echoed out of the parking lot behind me. Bullrush tore himself out of
another ruined car and tracked me with his high-tech battering ram of a helmet. A savage laugh rolled
out from behind his mask.
My feet found the sidewalk, and I darted left. I weaved through a crowd of startled passersby,
whose surprise quickly turned to screams as Bullrush activated his power again and plowed through
them.
My jaw clenched into a hard line, but I didn't dare to glance over my shoulder.
The bastard didn't give a shit about the civilians around him. He had his eyes squarely on me,
and he didn't care how many people he had to trample to get to me.
I dodged past a trashcan and noticed a panel van in dull blue colors beside me. Ladders and
plastic tubes dangled off the roof, and the side door slid open as I ran. The van kept perfect pace with
me, despite the traffic, and I spotted two guys in drab overalls. They had hard eyes, short haircuts, and
the two of them both held suppressed pistols in their hands.
Great, just what I needed. An undercover hit squad to murder me.
The van swung closer to the sidewalk, and one of the guys shouted out in a naturalized Hispanic
accent. I shot a glance over my shoulder, spotted Bullrush closing in, and forced myself to listen to the
guys keeping pace beside me.
"Get in!"
I had a couple of options. I could fall back, and do my best to tangle with a pissed-off super
with some kind of battering-ram power.
Or I could jump into a moving van, straight off the sidewalk, into a van with a bunch of perfect
strangers with weapons.
I chose the guys with the guns.
 I stepped off the sidewalk and lunged into the moving van. One of the guys caught my arm,
hauled me inside with minimal effort, and kicked me up against a toolbox. The second guy slammed
the door shut with tattooed arms that reminded me of albino jungle pythons, and just like that, I was
off the street.
Two suppressors angled straight at my face. I raised my arms, breathing hard.
"Thanks for the assist, my dudes," I gasped out.
The Hispanic dude and the giant white guy both exchanged a glance. They held their weapons
with the ease and stability of professional shooters, even in a speeding van, and they glared back down
at me with incredulous expressions.
"Who the fuck are you?" the giant asked.
"Dean Silver, at your service," I said. "Professional pisser-off of supers."
The adrenaline slowed down enough for me to think, and I realized that my gambit had paid off.
The guns, the excellent disguise, and the ex-military bearing marked these guys as professional
wetworkers. Assassins, maybe, but closer to mercenaries. Something that Giselle had mentioned
yesterday, back at my dad's safehouse. The Basement used them for their attacks against the supers.
"You just started a fucking war," the second guy said. "Bullrush is a lunatic, and he's not going
to stop until he runs us off the road and rips our limbs off."
Something smashed into the rear of the van and bucked me off the floor. I caught a handful of
overhead netting to stop myself slamming into the divider between the driver and the rest of the
vehicle. A gut-curdling snarl rolled out from the road behind us, and the two mercs checked their loads
with practiced movements and resigned expressions.
"Well, at least he'll give you guys better rep," I observed.
The giant merc cracked a smile at that. "That's true."
"Step on it!" the other guy shouted to the driver. "We need to get the super out of Commercial!"
The driver lifted a thumbs-up, and the van lurched forward with renewed speed. The whine of
the engine built until the whole chassis shook with the pressure of the acceleration.
I hooked my hands through the netting overhead as we ripped through the streets of Empyrion.
Screeches of metal, blared car horns, and a constant, near-demonic growl chased us on our way out.
I mean, it wasn't exactly subtle.
But it was a hell of a distraction for Giselle.
Now came the fun part--not getting killed.

Chapter 9
I took quick stock of the situation, ran it through my head, sizing up my chances of survival.
They weren't exactly high, but my inbuilt Resilience power would give me a better chance than most
vanilla humans, and if I could get close to Bullrush, break through his armor, and steal his powers, I
could neutralize the immediate threat and meet with the Basement in better conditions.
But it all depended on the willingness of the serious-looking guys to take a gamble on a perfect
stranger who'd just picked a fight with a superhuman battering ram. The back of the van had zero
visibility, but the driver must have learned some of his driving from a stunt crew, because we didn't so
much as clip another car as we raced through the streets as a homicidal maniac kept pace behind us.
I turned to the tattooed giant. "I've got a plan."
"You've got a plan." the Hispanic guy said with a humorless laugh. "Oh, please, enlighten us.
Does it involve getting arrested? And killed?"
"No, it involves giving Bullrush what he wants," I fired back. "I'll bail out of the van, once
we're out of the casualty zone for the civs. I'll draw him off while you head back and meet up with my
partner at the office building. Then we can set up a meeting with your boss."
They both stared at me, and the big guy let out a dry chuckle.
"You've got balls, son, I'll give you that. But you can't take him. Not by yourself."
"I managed with Darkstalker," I replied. "I can manage this punk just fine."
They both goggled at me for a second.
"That was you?" the big guy asked.
"Sure was," I rallied back. "Listen, you wouldn't have picked me up if you didn't think I was
worth your time. I'm worth every second of it, I promise you." I cocked my head at the wail of sirens
as the police joined the chase behind us. "But words don't mean shit, and I need to prove just how
serious I am, right?"
They didn't reply, which I took as affirmation.
"Get us into the Industrial district," I said. "Draw off the cops and lose them--I'll take care of
Bullrush, and I'll meet you back at the cafe with the feature wall between Downtown and Commercial.
There'll be a girl there, strawberry blonde hair, name of Giselle. She's with me."
"And suppose you're full of shit?"
"Then you're losing out on nothing," I said, "and you get a distraction to draw Bullrush away
from you. He pounds me into hamburger, and you've still got a good window to get out from under the
cops and public scrutiny."
"Cool it, Billy," the big guy said, and held out his hand to me. "I'm Chuck."
"Nice to meet you," I said, and grasped his hand with a firm grip.
Billy leaned over to the driver and called out some indistinct instructions.
The van veered left around a sharp corner. We kept our balance as best we could, and the driver
put his foot down again. The van had to be a custom engine job. I'd never been in anything as large
with so much acceleration. Billy pinned me with a glare as Chuck and I braced ourselves against
another sharp turn.
"I don't like it," Billy said sharply. "He's playing us."
"What possible reason do I have to lie?" I demanded.
"Could be a trap. This might all be a setup to get us out into the open," he said stubbornly. "You
really expect us to believe that you were the one to whack Darkstalker? And that you're somehow able
to take a super with nothing but your bare hands?"
"I mean, I wouldn't say no to a gun," I replied.
Chuck raised a hand to stave off Billy's protest. "He's our best chance at cutting Bullrush loose,
at the very least. And, hell, if he's sincere, then he might just be the kind of crazy that we need with us.
Where'd you put the Scrambler?"
"Chuck--" Billy said, warningly.
Chuck pinned Billy with a glare. "Look, do you want to wait until the van runs out of juice and
Bullrush stomps us? Or do you want to get out of here in one piece? Because you know what Gwen
said about--"
The mention of this mysterious Gwen was enough to galvanize Billy.
The lean merc turned, tugged open a rolling drawer on the floor, and pulled out a black case of
simple plastic. I'd have picked it as a storage container for a drill, but when Billy pulled the locks
open, I realized it was part of their cover. Which made sense.
The inside of the van was filled with tool chests, cases, and other apparently random odds and
ends that were perfect for disguising a crew of well-armed, well-trained mercenaries.
Billy opened the case and lifted a space-age revolver out of a foam bed. Three thumb-sized
bullets sat nestled beside it, and the merc opened the weapon's cylinder with a sinister click.
The pistol wasn't exactly low-profile. It was a big hunk of well-machined metal, thick with an
ergonomic grip and stabilizers, and looked like the kind of gun you used to hunt tanks, rather than
people.
Billy slid in the enormous rounds with extreme care before he closed the cylinder. He offered it
to me with a grimace and a flash of dark, angry eyes.
"Lose that, and they'll never find your body," he warned me.
"Anti-super rounds?" I guessed.
"They're experimental, and we haven't had time to field-test them yet," Chuck said. "None of us
are ever all that excited about getting close to a super, but you're crazy enough to put it through its
paces. So make sure that you tell us how it goes."
I took the revolver, and my hand dipped at the sheer weight of the thing. It was a snub-nosed
design, had a double-action trigger with a cockable hammer, and probably weighed half a ton.
I clicked on a manual safety on the side of the pistol and nodded my thanks.
"Anything I should know about it?" I asked.
"They're armor-piercing, and have a built-in shock function," Billy said. "supers are made of
tougher stuff than us meat-based lifeforms. So the bullet should punch into them, deliver a high-
powered charge, and scramble their brain. Emphasis on should."
I hefted the gun, impressed. "Nice bit of gear."
"I built it from scratch," Billy said. "So if you lose it, it's your ass."
"I'll make sure I get you a receipt."
The indistinct figure of the driver waved behind the frosted-glass divider, and Chuck hauled the
door open. Air rushed into the van.
I peered outside to find that the clean, corporate streets of the Commercial District had
vanished. Warehouses, car sales yards, and workshops flashed past us in a blur.
The driver slowed the van down to manageable levels. I tipped Billy and Chuck a salute with
the enormous revolver and shifted to the side of the van.
My gaze whipped over the scenery, and I spotted a stretch of grass long enough to break my
fall.
"Meet you back at the cafe," I told them.
"Best of luck!" Chuck called.
I heard Billy start a sentence with 'Javier' as I threw myself out of the van and hit the grass feet-
first. Momentum took over, and I rolled into a clean tumble. I tore up my shirt and newly-purchased
jeans, and came up in a crouch with a new collection of bruises.
And a fucking big gun.
The van disappeared around a corner.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Bullrush skidded around a corner like a truck. Rippling haze leaked off his armored suit, and the
asphalt tore up under his boots as he fought for control of his momentum.
His blood-red eyes locked onto me, and I gave him a cheery wave. The super ducked his head
again and charged toward me.
I sprinted into the closest parking lot I could find and dove for cover behind a truck, and the
super smashed through it like paper. Metal screamed and crunched, but the super missed me narrowly.
He razed a path of destruction through the cars, until he crashed into the steel fence. The sheer
concussive force of his head bent the inch-thick steel bars like putty, and he staggered away from it
with a crazed laugh.
 Instinctive shivers rippled down my spine as I pulled myself to my feet and backed away from
him.
"Fuck," Bullrush cackled, "you're a tricky one, aren't you?"
I stopped my retreat in the center of the parking lot.
Trucks lined the available spots around us, along with a smattering of personal vehicles.
Bullrush stalked forward with Terminator-like confidence. His gaze fixed on the huge pistol in
my hand, and another crazed laugh rolled out of him.
The guy was clearly a psycho, but I doubted people had the balls to call him out on it.
He was reckless, didn't give a shit about property damage, and had a hate-boner for me.
Bullrush started to circle. I kept my eyes on him as he prowled around like some kind of lunatic,
serial-killer predatory cat.
"If by 'tricky', you mean 'lucky', then yeah," I said. "I'm the trickiest there is."
"I'm gonna break every bone in your body," Bullrush snarled. "And then I'm gonna drag
whatever's left back to Pinnacle, and they'll promote me for bringing in a terrorist."
"Must be hard getting out of C-tier when all you can do is headbutt stuff, right?"
"Funny," Bullrush sneered. "What can you do? Talk shit? Wave guns around?"
"Actually, I steal people's powers and give them to other people."
He laughed again. "That's bullshit. No one can do that. Not even Pinnacle."
"Well, I warned you."

Chapter 10
Bullrush lunged forward. The force-field rippled to life around his body, concentrated around
his helmet.
I dodged to the right at the last possible second, but a wall of force still clipped my side and
spun me into the asphalt like a toy. I hit the ground with a grunt, rolled up into a crouch, and brought
my huge pistol up to bear.
Bullrush smashed headlong into a pickup, crumpling the tray like a newspaper and screwing up
the steel beneath. He hauled himself out of the wreck, and I shifted into a Weaver stance as he spun
back around to face me.
I'd seen his attack pattern a couple of times now and figured out his general rhythm.
Bullrush was hell on wheels in a straight line, and he could turn cars into modern art with a
single face-smash. He didn't corner well, and he didn't have much control once his momentum hit
critical mass.
I could play bullfighter all I wanted, but he'd chased a van halfway across town and didn't even
look out of breath.
Charge by charge, bullrush would wear me down, until I ran out of gas and got pulverized.
I cocked the pistol. The gun's action ratcheted back and primed the trigger. I lined up the barrel
on Bullrush's lower mass.
I couldn't let him get his momentum-shielding up again, but the lunatic seemed content to watch
me draw a bead on him. He opened his arms out in a mocking gesture and flipped me off with both
hands.
"I'm a fucking superhero!" he called. "You think your little peashooter can do anything to me?
I'll eat the bullet and shit it out after I'm done with you. You can't do shit to me!"
"Hope you know what you're doing, Billy," I whispered.
I pulled the trigger.
 The muzzle roared. The gun bucked in my hands and launched its experimental round in a flash
of fire and smoke. It smashed into Bullrush's left thigh and spun him back against the ruined pickup
with a scream of agony.
Hope, excitement, and new tactics rushed through me.
I sprinted across the parking lot like a madman.
I had to get in close, take away all his most dangerous weapons, and neutralize the super before
he could do any more damage.
Bullrush hauled himself up to his feet, spat a string of curses, and threw himself into a
superman punch.
It was a desperate move, poorly trained, and I saw it coming from a mile away.
I slipped the punch, caught hold of Bullrush's arm, and shot a knee into his bad leg. He
screamed in pain and fell back against the mauled truck. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I shot a
kick into his helmet with everything I had. The super's skull clunked off the ruined chassis, and it
stunned him for a second.
He tried to claw his way back up to his feet, but I slammed a roundhouse kick against his
wounded thigh and ripped his feet out from under him.
"--what the fuck?!" Bullrush howled.
I backed up with an exhilarated grin and watched him struggle to rise again.
I wasn't about to get cocky, but this fucker had it coming, and after what he'd pulled in the
Commercial District, I wasn't above indulging a little shit-talk.
"Feel it?" I asked. "What it's like to be outclassed?"
Bullrush sprang off the truck's ruined rear with a surprising amount of energy and aimed his
helmet straight for my chest. I wove around the headbutt, snaked an arm around his neck in a basic
guillotine, and dropped his face to the asphalt in a bone-shaking DDT.
Bullrush's helmet cracked into the ground like a gunshot.
I disengaged from him with a quick shoulder roll. The super laid motionless for a second, and
after a second, he struggled shakily to his feet again.
I'd rung his bells with the last move, but there was new, fresh energy in his movements.
The magic bullet had done its work, but it was more akin to a taser than a proper killing tool.
It'd scrambled his powers, but I hadn't managed to get a purchase on his skin to take his powers away
yet.
There was, however, a slight worry in the back of my mind that what I'd done to Darkstalker
was a one-time thing. That I was going to go skin-to-skin with Bullrush and find myself shit out of
luck.
I pushed the worry to the back of my mind, where it belonged.
Rippling haze buzzed around Bullrush's upper body, and he wheeled around to face me. He
dropped into a half-crouch, like a sprinter waiting for the starting pistol. The asphalt cracked under his
feet as tension rolled into his muscles.
I gave him the starting gun, right into his good leg.
The gun bucked in my hand and blew through an armored plate and the shin underneath. Blood
fountained out of the point of impact. The hazy forcefield dissolved as Bullrush rolled over from the
sheer agony of the gunshot.
I dived onto him, slammed a kick into his stupid helmet for good measure, and pinned him into
the ground with my hips.
Bullrush threw a useless punch up at my face, and I scooped the proffered arm under my armpit.
I shot my legs around his head and chest, leaned back, and snapped his arm the wrong way with a
quick jerk.
Bullrush howled in pain, and I released his busted limb. He rolled over into the fetal position
and cradled his busted limb. I drove a knee into his ribs as I transitioned over to his banged-up legs,
avoiding his pathetic kicks with practiced ease.
A couple of years in Brazil and a winter holiday in Russia had taught me plenty about
grappling, while Bullrush seemed to have skipped the hand-to-hand section of Pinnacle's training
regime entirely.
I used the barrel of the pistol and my legs to hyperextend one of his legs before I hooked his
heel to add torsion to the technique.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck--" Bullrush moaned.
"What was that about breaking my bones?" I asked.
"You're fucking dead, I'll fucking kill you--"
"Not without an ACL, you won't."
I shattered his knee with a quick jerk and swept up his opposing leg. I broke every ligament I
could get my hands on, dusted up old techniques I hadn't touched in months, and hit the jackpot. One
of the bullets had dislodged an armor plate, torn through his skintight spandex, and left bloody skin
open to the air.
I rammed my fist against the injury.
Bullrush spasmed in agony as I maintained contact with his gun wound. A notification window
appeared in my vision a small eternity later, and excitement hit my brain like lightning.

[Transfer Complete]
[Bullrush Powers Stolen]

I untangled myself from Bullrush, straightened up, and glanced down at the huge revolver in
my hand. I had to give Billy props. The guy had given me the perfect tool for the job. The gun had
worked to slow Bullrush down, giving me the edge that I needed to finish him off up-close.
Bullrush stared up at me as I tapped the revolver against my thigh.
"What the fuck--" His breath caught, and I heard him fight off a wave of pain. "What the fuck
did you just do to me? Who the fuck are you?"
"I did exactly what I said I would do. Took your powers off you."
"That's impossible. You can't do that, I'm better than you--"
"I'm not the guy lying on the ground crippled. Looks like you bit off more than you could chew,
Bullrush." I dropped onto my haunches and rested the gun against my thigh. "As for who I am? I'm
your worst fucking nightmare."
"They'll find you," Bullrush muttered. "Pinnacle will hunt you down like a dog--"
"They'd better send tougher guys than you then," I interrupted.
I lifted the gun and leveled it at his skull. He cringed away from me.
I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was terrified. I'd taken a borderline invulnerable
superhuman, who had never had a proper fight in his life, and systematically disassembled his body
and mind.
I'd taken everything away from him. He'd need months of physical therapy and surgery to
recover.
That was if I let him live.
Two dead supers in two days would be a huge blow against Pinnacle, and it'd give me plenty of
rep with the Basement. More than I already had.
 I held the gun on his head for a long moment, thinking hard about it.
"Please, man," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't kill me."
"Do you know how many people you've killed?" I asked quietly. "How many regular civilians
you've mowed through? How much property you've damaged, swinging your dick around in the
middle of Empyrion? Like you own the place?"
"I didn't mean to, it just happens, I can't--"
"Control it? You expect me to believe that? You never fine-tuned your skills, or learned any
discipline. Fuck, they treat you people like you're the paragons of society. Like you're their one savior
against all the bad things in the world."
"Please, I'm begging you." He started to cry under the cracked helmet.
I straightened up and let the gun fall to my side.
A combination of emotions battled for prominence in my gut.
Excitement at the new potential powers.
Disgust for the former super at my head.
Anger, running hot.
And a cold, visceral satisfaction from going toe-to-toe with a so-called superhero and humbling
him down to a human level.
"You get to live," I said. "Although you're gonna wish I killed you."
"What?"
"How good is your medical insurance? I tore up both of your knees. Even with the magic shit
they have, do you really think that Pinnacle is going to want anything to do with a depowered super
that doesn't make them money? That failed to take out a serious threat?" I shook my head. "You're
human, you're crippled, and you're on our level now. And you're going to spend the rest of your life
doing some good in the world. Because if I hear a whisper about you, anywhere, I'm going to hunt you
down and finish you off."
He cried under the helmet again and curled himself up like a child.
I started out of the parking lot, leaving the crippled former-superhero on the ground behind me,
and eyed the enormous revolver in my hand. I didn't exactly have a holster for it, or any way to easily
hide the weapon, short of stuffing it down the back of my pants.
I considered my options for a second, then clicked open the cylinder and slid out the two empty
shells. I pocketed them and tugged out the live round. It went into my pocket with the others, and I
tucked the hand-cannon into my waistband, just below the small of my back. It wasn't perfect, but I
wouldn't do myself any favors waving Billy's mini-bazooka around in my hand.
I walked quickly, though without obvious hurry, through the streets of the Industrial District.
A bus stop sat outside a car dealership, rundown and heavily-graffitied, and I waited for a ride
back into the city.
A bus cruised by, and I flagged it down without a fuss. The driver miraculously accepted cash,
and I took a seat behind two old ladies and a half-asleep bookish-looking guy with a shock of messy
hair.
I kept my eyes open, tracking our progress through the streets. The bus route led us between
main hubs in the Industrial District, and finally took us past the edge of the Commercial District.
I stopped the bus, got off it without a word, and found myself exactly where I'd been maybe an
hour earlier. The cafe with the feature wall was called Primo's, and I made a note to remember that if I
ever passed through here again.
The breakfast was amazing, after all.
No one looked my way twice as I stepped closer to the cafe.
 Sirens howled a few streets over.
A police blockade had been set up on the streets around the Pinnacle office.
Ambulances were visible in the distance, and emergency personnel bustled through the streets
to treat the casualties from Bullrush's rampage.
I kept my head down and added another mental note to the list. I needed some kind of mask for
myself, a way to keep my face out of people's minds and off the security cameras. I hadn't initially
worried about my name being registered by AI recognition, but it'd be worth considering it in the
future.
The cafe was loaded with customers, but it wasn't difficult to miss Chuck and Billy. They'd
switched outfits and added some light disguise.
Chuck wore a muscle top and exercise shorts, chowed down on an acai bowl, and easily passed
for a local gym bro fresh out of a heavy workout.
Billy sat on the other side of the cafe, dressed in business casual. He flicked idly through a
tablet and sipped lightly at an espresso.
Neither of them acknowledged my presence, but I hadn't expected them to.
Giselle sat with another young woman, on a street-side table for four. I sidled up to them with
an easy grin and slid into the chair beside Giselle. She squeezed my hand, tight enough to crack bones,
and kissed my cheek quickly.
"You're late," Giselle scolded me.
"There was a situation out in the Industrial District."
Her eyes widened at that. "super?"
"Seemed that way. But he's gonna have trouble walking anywhere for a while."
I turned my attention to the other woman at the table. She was five foot and change, built
entirely out of whipcord. Tattoos whirled over pale skin beneath a tank top. Dirty-blonde hair hung
down to chin-length, and sky-blue eyes zeroed in on me with soul-piercing precision.
Anyone else might have picked her as some kind of punk singer or tattoo-artist, but there was a
subtle aura about her that was impossible to miss if you were looking for it. It was a kind of relaxed
vigilance, with the immediate ability to get violent in the blink of an eye.
I recalled the conversation between Billy and Chuck in the back of the van, and nodded to the
newcomer with a friendly smile.
"Gwen, right?"
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Dean, isn't it?"
"At your service. Appreciate you showing up."
"You didn't give me much of a choice with your little show earlier."
"Got a bit out of hand," I agreed. "But I had to get your attention somehow."
"Consider yourself noticed," Gwen said.
"You're Basement?"
"I run the show. What the fuck are you doing in my town?"

Chapter 11
I leaned back in my chair and studied Gwen.
She had the hard edges of a strung-out soldier constantly at war. People followed her, respected
her, and I knew without a shade of doubt that she'd earned that respect through actions, not just pretty
words.
Chuck and Billy struck me as seasoned professionals, and if they followed Gwen's lead, she had
to be hell on wheels in a fight, and good with tactics to boot.
And, on top of that, if she dropped the scowl, she'd have been a stunner. The girl could have
easily modeled for alternative fashion or skatewear.
I ignored my glands for a second and found an answer to her question.
"I'm here to help," I said, in an undertone.
"Yeah? So why'd you pick a fight with a known lunatic?" Gwen leaned forward, crossed her
arms on the table, and pinned me with a withering glare. "You endangered lives in broad daylight, you
got your face all over their cameras, and there were witnesses everywhere. You would've been killed if
my people didn't step in."
"Which I appreciate, by the way," I said. "Billy's cannon works a charm."
Her eyes widened at that. "You used it? On Bullrush?"
"Guy's lying in a parking lot in the industrial district with two busted legs and no powers," I
said with a chuckle. "I wouldn't call him Bullrush anymore. He's not going to be blowing through
civilians anytime soon."
Gwen searched my eyes for a lie, but I returned her gaze without flinching.
"Darkstalker's been missing for the last 48 hours," she said finally. "No one's been able to pin
where he is, which means that you've had Pinnacle running in circles trying to locate him. I'm not
complaining about that. He's a piece of work."
"Was, past-tense," Giselle supplied. "Something blew his brains out through his nose."
Gwen blinked. "You killed him?
"Wasn't us," I said. "Someone pulled the trigger on a failsafe in his brain, if I had to guess."
The leader of the Basement drummed her fingertips on the table. "Two supers in two days. You
understand how insane that sounds, don't you?"
"It gets better," I said. "You're sitting across from a guy who can drain them of their powers, and
give them to someone else." I bumped Giselle's knee under the table, and she fired me a mischievous
grin. "And we've got a present for you."
Giselle slid a slip of black plastic out of her tight jeans and slid it across the table. Gwen trapped
it with her hand, and her eyes narrowed into another glare.
I told myself to be patient. The Basement had survived as long as it had by being professionally
paranoid. Giselle and I were too good to be true, in her eyes. I'd have been just as skeptical if I'd been
in her shoes.
"You're bullshitting me," Gwen snapped. "That's impossible."
"What'd you manage to snag from their servers?" I asked Giselle.
"List of five local supers," she supplied. "Four C-listers and a B-ranked hero. We've got their
residences, health records, and a pretty clear outline of their powers."
I turned back to Gwen. "It's all there for you. We got that in an hour, and knocked Bullrush out
of the running while we were at it. So, before you dismiss us both as crazy people who are some kind
of Pinnacle infiltrators, think about the kind of help we could bring to your organization."
"I've been running ops against supers for the last five years," Gwen said, her voice hard. "I've
seen some things that shouldn't be possible. Hell, I'm used to it. But stealing and reallocating powers,
like you're some kind of ATM for superpowers?" She clenched her fists, and her knuckles cracked.
"Pull the other one."
I nodded to the information device next to Gwen's elbow. "You've got people who can work
computers. Have them look through that, see if I'm bullshitting you."
Gwen considered the little gadget for a moment. I couldn't read minds, but I could almost hear
the gears in her head spinning.
 My information about the Basement was limited, but they were dedicated to the destruction of
Pinnacle. My dad had wanted me to meet with them, and establish a relationship with their leaders.
But Gwen remained suspicious.
That wariness was what had allowed her organization to survive this long. If I wanted to win
her trust, I'd have to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were on her side.
I was asking her to take a situation that looked too good to be true, accept it, and allow me to
work alongside the Basement.
And to top it off, I'd told her that I had my own superpowers, which could easily land me in the
'enemy' category in her head.
Giselle ordered coffee for us while Gwen and I watched each other closely.
The leader of the Basement broke the tension between us by flicking the tiny drive back to
Giselle with a shake of her head. Giselle caught it, raised an eyebrow at me, and tucked it back into
her pocket.
"I'm not buying," Gwen said. "This whole thing stinks."
"Name your price," I said. "What do we have to give you to make you trust us?"
"Bring me Patriot's head," she said with a roll of her eyes.
I glanced at the advertisements atop the highrises around us. I'd heard the name before, but I
didn't follow any of the media or the documentaries about the rise of superheroes in the US.
Patriot was one of the Big Three, a flying brick who had shrugged off tank shells, and whose
very presence was one of the best deterrents to any supervillain in a ten-block radius of Empyrion. I
shook my head at that. Even with our fancy new abilities, I wasn't up for taking on an S-tier super in
his prime. Maybe sometime in the future, but I couldn't manage it now.
"There's got to be something else. Something actually possible," Giselle argued.
Gwen studied her for a moment. "You're new to all of this, aren't you?"
Giselle arched up at that, but I laid a hand on her thigh and winked at her.
"She's new, but she's hell on wheels," I said to Gwen. "And she makes an excellent point. If I
could waltz up to Pinnacle HQ and bring the whole thing tumbling down into the ocean, I'd have done
it already. But neither of us are ready for something that big. So, work with us here."
Gwen's eyes drifted to Chuck and Billy, hidden in plain sight throughout the cafe.
"I might have something," she said after nodding. "Something risky enough to prove
yourselves. I'd have already sent my people in, but it's got too much potential to be a total clusterfuck.
And we'll have enough heat on us already, after this morning."
I leaned forward. "What is it?"
"You know the Outreach Program in the Industrial District?"
Giselle nodded. "Part of Pinnacle's PR attempts in the city. It's a powerplant that takes in those
without a job, employs them, and gives them consistent work. Apparently it's quite successful."
"That's what you're going to need to bring down," Gwen said flatly. "We've looked into it from
the outside, but they're very cagey about who they employ, for an apparent charity organization." She
fixed me with her cool blue eyes. "Word is, the B-tier super Scourge keeps an eye on the place. He's
got a bad cocaine habit, and likes killing prostitutes from Downtown on his weekends off. We've tried
poisoning him once or twice, but he's got that super digestion system. And any attempt we make to get
close to the plant brings down merry hell on our heads."
"Scourge," I echoed. "Any ideas what his powers are?"
"He and Darkstalker were tight," Gwen said, "so I'm sure he's raring to meet you."
"Is there an edgelord subspecies inside Pinnacle?" I wondered, aloud.
Gwen barked a short, genuine laugh. "Probably. Must be hell for their PR team."
 "Why this specific plant?" I asked.
"It provides power for Pinnacle's personal sites around the city, and they let Empyrion have the
runoff," Gwen said. "We don't have any idea how it works, what kind of power source they're using.
Shut it down, and you'd cripple Pinnacle's operations for a couple of days, easy."
I leaned back in my seat and fixed my gaze on Gwen. "Add Scourge to the shopping list, and
you'll be satisfied we're not lying to you?"
"It'll go a long way to earning my trust," she agreed. "Pinnacle are a slippery bunch of basket
cases, but they're fundamentally corporate. Even if you were undercover, they'd never let you cut the
power to their organization. They'd lose too much money. And too much face in the press."
Gwen flashed her teeth in a humorless smirk. "That's my price."
Giselle and I glanced at each other. A smile tugged at her lips, and my own crazy-person grin
stretched across my face.
Gwen's eyebrows raised as we both turned back to face her.
"You've got yourself a deal," I said. "You sending us in blind, or do we get some of your
information about the place?"
Gwen considered the two of us for a moment before she leaned back to accept a cappuccino
from the waitress. Giselle tipped her generously, passed me another black venti, and sipped at her
latte. My partner kept her green eyes steady on Gwen, a thoughtful expression on her face.
Gwen fixed her attention on me again and jerked her chin toward Chuck and Billy.
"They'll give you the particulars," the Basement's leader said.
Gwen rose to her feet with a grimace, pushed her chair in, and leaned over the table. I spotted
the folding knife tucked deep into her waistband and took a moment to appreciate her smooth skin and
incredibly detailed tattoos.
"Fuck with me, and I'll kill you," Gwen said. "That's a guarantee. And I follow through on my
guarantees. You run back to Pinnacle? Or my guys think for a second that you're playing us? They'll
shoot you in the back of the head and mail your pieces back to the supers with a pretty red bow."
"Cute," I said, and added some steel to my voice. "If you follow through on your guarantees,
why don't you give us your word that you'll clue us in to your operation once we're done with Scourge
and his science project?"
Gwen stared at me for a moment. She probably wasn't used to people leveling with her.
She shrugged and relaxed a little. "Sure, why not? You do this, and you're in. I'm the winner,
either way. You die, and you weren't worth it. You turn on us, I get to watch you go down. And if
you're crazy enough to pull it off? Then you'll be a damn useful resource."
"Ally," I corrected her.
Gwen shook her head. "You came to me, remember? Do you want to play, or not?"
"Oh, I adore games," I said. "But once we're done with what you want, you'll be begging us to
come along with your cute little outfit of meatheads and hackers. Trust me."
Something close to satisfaction glinted in Gwen's eyes, and I sensed I'd just passed a test in her
mind. She straightened up from the table, gave Giselle a careful nod, and offered me a half-smile.
"You've got 48 hours," Gwen said, and strolled out of the restaurant.
I turned back to my coffee with a smile, and Giselle jogged my elbow.
"Do you really think that we can do this so soon? That's a pretty short window."
I sipped coffee and chuckled. "What, you getting tired already?"
"I'm fine," Giselle assured me.
"Good. Because we're getting this done tonight."
Chapter 12
Giselle knew me well enough by now not to let her jaw drop, but she couldn't hide the sudden
surprise in her eyes.
I grinned into my coffee, fought off the urge to remain silent and enigmatic, and set down my
cup to explain my reasoning.
"We've got Pinnacle on the back foot," I said. "Darkstalker's missing, and with any luck, they
still haven't found whatever's left of him. Bullrush is out of play, and the office got smashed up,
broken into, and had its information taken right out from under their noses. They have to be panicking
by now. I don't care if they're superpowered or not. They're not used to this. They're not used to having
somebody fuck with them."
"And you want to keep probing them?" Giselle asked.
"I want to hit them with a knockout punch. Darkstalker started the fight, we hit them with a
counter, and now we look for something to cripple them or take them out. Gwen gave us a power
station, and that's perfect. The smartest thing for us to do is to vanish--"
"--but the balls-to-the-wall crazy option is to keep pressing." Giselle nodded.
"Sure is. Come on, let's go talk to the others."
We rose from the table, and Giselle followed my lead out onto the street.
Billy and Chuck intercepted us at the street corner, from two different directions.
I raised an eyebrow, impressed. They'd already anticipated us leaving, found two different
flanking routes, and went down them the moment we started down the street.
Billy nodded curtly to a slick-looking sedan parked on the street. The merc hit a hidden button
in his pocket, and the doors slid open as we approached. Well-maintained leather seats and that
familiar new-car smell washed out of the guy's ride.
Chuck held out an arm and gestured for Giselle to enter. She glanced a question at me, but I
gave her a nod and ushered her inside. I took the shotgun seat, noted the giant's position behind me,
and glanced over my shoulder with a grin.
"Don't need to stick a gun in my back, big guy. I'm happy to play ball."
Chuck fired back a grin of his own. "Then put on your seatbelt and keep your hands on your
knees, where I can see 'em."
I followed his instructions, once again impressed at his professionalism. Normally, the ideal
setup would have been me in the back, in handcuffs, and a gun in my ribs. I had no intention of letting
things get sour, but even so, the pair of mercs had identified Giselle as a slightly softer target. I
wouldn't have liked to see them fight here, but I had the awareness that came with experience.
The gorgeous woman had powers, but she was new to this kind of game.
"So, no bag over my head?" I asked Billy.
"Keep talking, you might just get one," he warned.
The sedan glided over a bump, and I felt the huge gun in the back of my jeans dig
uncomfortably into my skin. Another grin crossed my face. I was half-tempted to fish the thing out of
my pants, but I didn't want to give Chuck the wrong idea.
"Well, before you dig out the hessian," I said, "your bullets work a treat."
Billy's expression flared in sudden excitement, and he pushed it back behind a neutral mask. I
lifted a hand off my knee, felt Chuck tense through the seat directly at my rear, and spoke with a clear,
calm voice, edged with as much humor as I could manage.
"Chuck, I've got the unloaded piece in the back of my pants, and if I'm not careful, I'll be
shitting it out later. I'll take the shells out of my pocket, hand them back to you, and then the cannon
after. That work for you?"
"You've got good taste in men," Chuck told Giselle with a chuckle. "Very polite."
"Only when he feels like it," Giselle assured him.
"Go ahead, Dean," the giant said. "Nice and slow."
I extracted the shells out of my pocket--no easy feat when you took the cramped confines and
my seated position into account--and handed them back to him. Then I leaned forward, lifted the gun
out of my jeans, and felt the pressure ease immediately.
I spun the weapon in my hand, caught it by the cylinder, and offered it to Chuck butt-first.
"How many rounds did it take?" Billy asked finally.
"I used two," I said. "First one could've gotten it done for me, but I wanted to see how long the
effects would last. Probably about ten, fifteen seconds, if you were wondering. And the thing kicks
like a fucking mule, too."
Billy allowed himself a smile. "It's to break the wrists of bitches who don't know how to ride
the recoil."
"Shit, dude, then how did you test-fire the thing? You're built like a scarecrow--"
"Dean," Giselle said, "maybe not the best idea to antagonize the guy who helped you take out
the lunatic super?"
Chuck gave her a grateful smile, and I leaned back into the seat to enjoy the ride.
We pulled back into the Industrial District, and Billy took us to a storage facility. He buzzed the
gate with a remote, and it opened to let us in.
I noted the lack of cameras around the place as Billy guided the car over cracked, weed-infested
concrete until we reached a couple of roller doors. He checked the mirrors and stepped out of the car
with a satisfied nod.
Giselle unclipped herself while Chuck opened the door for her, and I made sure I was the last to
get out of the car, just so both of the mercs were at an advantage.
"We done with the cloak and dagger stuff, guys?" I asked.
"Not even close," Billy said.
He unfastened a padlock at the base of one of the roller doors, and Chuck hauled up the
entrance to the garage-like space.
Giselle and I ducked under the door as Chuck waved us through, and he pulled the door down
behind us. Lights flickered on, and I heard myself whistle, impressed.
I'd expected a bunch of shelves piled high with guns, but I hadn't expected the mercs to take a
storage space and make it into the ultimate man-cave.
A round table with a felt surface took up the center of the room. It was piled up with playing
cards, poker chips, and equipment for keeping weapons clean and functional. Comfortable-looking
secondhand chairs were pulled in around the table.
A series of short shelves sat perpendicular to the walls on our right, creating a small library of
plastic cases of all shapes and sizes. I didn't have to ask to know what was on the shelves. It was a
well-stocked, meticulously organized arsenal of weaponry.
A wall of screens sat opposite the steel shelving. Masses of neatly-ordered wires ran into a PC
roughly the size of a car engine, and a workbench with accompanying desk chairs sat underneath the
dozen or so monitors. The screens flickered to life as we stepped closer, displaying locations of hidden
cameras all over the city.
The far wall had a simple bunk bed about the right size for a pair of rhinoceroses, and I realized
it was probably where Chuck and Billy got their rest between missions.
Fluorescent tubes flicked on above us, bathing the whole space in warm, yellow light.
 Chuck pulled a chair out for Giselle, and Billy dropped into a chair behind the screens. His
fingers danced across a keyboard, and multiple angles of a single structure appeared before us.
I studied the complex as I pulled up a chair beside Giselle and settled down onto it.
"Looks like a warehouse, not a power plant," Giselle said.
"Which is what has us suspicious," Chuck agreed. "Look."
He pointed a sausage-sized finger at one of the screens, and it zoomed in to display a loading
ramp around the back of the building. People in light blue uniforms drove forklifts, coordinated, and
in some cases, lifted up fridge-sized boxes into removal trucks. The employees looked dirty and tired,
a few of them stoned out of their minds.
"Looks like a prisoner of war camp," I said. "Armed guards, but all carrying sidearms. Couple
of big-time badasses like you shouldn't have an issue with something like that, surely?"
"The civilians would get caught in the crossfire," Billy pointed out. "And we're an observational
branch of the Basement. Reconnaissance and infiltration are our skillsets, not trigger-pulling."
I glanced at Billy, then at the mountain of well-organized gun-cases behind me.
"Yeah, you strike me as the types to sit back and watch."
"Gwen's orders," Chuck explained. "We don't go weapons hot with civilians nearby."
"That's smart, if you want to keep your online following," Giselle noted. "How many people
actually pay attention to what you say, do you think?"
"Couple hundred thousand," Billy supplied instantly. "But they're mostly from out of town, in
places where supers are less supervised and PR-friendly. Right here in Empyrion? We're trying to ice
skate uphill most of the time."
Giselle leaned forward, curiosity in her gaze, but I flicked a poker chip at her to get her
attention. She caught herself mid-sentence, gave me a good-natured glare, and settled back into her
chair.
I turned my attention back to the camera feeds of the building.
"Tell me about this Scourge character," I said. "He's the main deterrent for you guys, right? The
big, bad super that keeps you from slipping in and setting off some fireworks?"
"Real piece of work," Chuck began. "Clinical psychopath, has been since forever. He's kept out
of the public eye, just like Darkstalker was. Not very marketable for Pinnacle. But people still know
about him. He spends a lot of time Downtown."
"Gwen mentioned you tried to poison him."
"Didn't take," Billy said. "Fucking super biology--"
"Hey, you made a gun that can tickle them now," I interjected. "Don't be too hard on yourself.
What are his tactics like? Powers? Do you know where he sets up in this building?"
"He likes conventional hardware," Chuck said. "Guns, mostly. No idea what he likes to use, but
most people who run across him end up missing a good chunk of their head. So we're thinking he uses
anti-material or a really big shotgun. And, if word on the street is good, he's the one who trained
Darkstalker. So he knows his way around a knife." Chuck paused and exchanged a look with Billy.
"As for his powers, we're in the dark. He's tough and strong, mostly bulletproof, but that's all standard
for a super. We don't know what his speciality is."
"And as for why he's here," Billy continued, "we don't know. You can tell us, if he doesn't end
up hosing the walls with your brains."
Giselle blanched at his words. "Better us than you, huh?"
Billy's words caught in his mouth, and a laugh rumbled out of Chuck's throat.
"Ignore him, Giselle," the giant said. "He doesn't sleep much."
"So we've got a location, rough idea of the opposition, and a whole lot of unanswered
questions," I summarized. "Not exactly a picnic. Can you get us a few bits and bobs or hardware?"
"You can go fuck yourself," Billy growled. "Gwen said we're only giving you minimal support.
Hell, bringing you here was risky enough--"
"What do you need?" Chuck cut in, with a glare at his partner in crime.
"Nothing too hot," I said. "I'm getting the feeling that you're already putting your neck far
enough out for us as it is, and I'd hate to prove Billy's paranoia right."
The giant gave me a wry smile. "Pretty much on the money there."
"Too much to ask for a couple of vests, some comm gear, and the last round in the hand
cannon?" I asked. "And a couple of hoods or something to keep our faces hidden?"
Chuck grinned. "So, you're only mostly suicidal, huh?"
"That's what my therapists say," I agreed.
"Yeah, I think I can swing that," the big guy said.
He got up and started a clattering search through the shelves that made Billy's jaw twitch.
I turned back toward Giselle, who met my eyes with a half-nervous, half-excited grin. She was
onboard for anything at this point. Hell, she'd broken into an office and stolen info straight out from
under a super's nose. Her confidence had come a long way from a scared office worker when
Darkstalker had first appeared in our lives yesterday.
That reminded me. I hadn't yet checked Bullrush's powers on my mini-menu, so I leaned back
in my chair and called it up with a thought.
The window sprang up in my vision, almost enthusiastically, and displayed a new message that
I hadn't seen before.

[Safe Zone Found!]

[Power Selection Enabled]

[Active Powers]
[Resilience]

[Stored Powers]
[Shadow Stealth]
[Lock Breach]
[Resilience]
[Barrier]
[Speedburst]
[Stamina]

Chapter 13
I whistled softly at the new options from Bullrush.
Giselle noted my expression, and my probably-blank stare off into space, and switched seats.
She put a hand over mine and gave me a squeeze.
"What is it?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
"Got new stuff in the powers bank," I said, "and apparently I can switch around which one I'm
using." I took my eyes off the window for a second and scanned the walls. "Says that we're in a Safe
Zone, whatever that means. Must be the condition for me to switch powers."
Her emerald eyes didn't leave mine for a second. "What do you have available?"
 "Looks like I can pick anything from the two sets," I said, "but there's one that's got my
attention. Seems to be different from the others, and I think it's how Bullrush was able to break cars
apart with his face. It's called Barrier."
"A force-field?" Giselle suggested.
"Yeah, seems like it." I focused on the 'Power Selection' section of text, and it opened up a new
window for me. "Bingo. Looks like I can switch it out for Resilience."
"So, trading out general toughness for a shield?" Giselle asked. "Sure that's wise?"
"Tough doesn't mean bulletproof. And if we're going up against a guy who likes his fire
superiority, it probably wouldn't hurt to be able to conjure up a little cover."
A familiar window appeared, reminding me of my first night in Downtown.

[Active Power]
[Resilience]
[Would you like to switch your active power?]
[Y / N]

"Yes, to Barrier," I said quietly.

The windows vanished as I swept the thoughts into the back of my mind and focused on the
sensations of my body. Nothing especially different came to mind, although the phantom aches from
the knife wounds I'd taken yesterday appeared for a moment to sting me and remind me of their
presence.
Chuck and Billy watched us, and Chuck did his best to stifle a grin at the concentrated look on
my face.
I stood up, found a part of the hidden base with some room, and gestured for Giselle to join me.
The stunning blonde kept a good distance away from me and tilted her head in a silent question.
"So, how do you make it work for you?" I asked. "The stealth thing."
Giselle's eyes widened a little with sudden understanding. "Oh."
She pulled her hands in a downward motion, toward her hips, and shadows detached from the
walls and lunged to her aid. They swept around her in a sudden black miasma, and a crash rang out
from the computer bench as Billy fell off his chair.
Giselle wasn't invisible--it was a bit hard not to notice the teeming mass of darkness in the
middle of the room--but she dispersed it with another gesture and pursed her lips.
"Run me through the thought process," I clarified.
"I guess, after I started doing it--" Giselle huffed, irritated at herself. "I believe I can do it, I
focus on what I want to happen, and it happens. I don't know how to make it any more clear."
"Did you use Lock Breach in the same kind of way?" I asked.
"Pretty much, yeah."
"I wonder if there's different classes of powers," I mused. "Passive and active. Ones that take
concentration, and ones that work on instinct, in the background."
"Like Resilience?"
"That's what I'm thinking. So, I just need to magic-feather this shit?"
"Give a try," Giselle encouraged with a nod.
I held up a hand in front of me, ignored the immediate embarrassment of looking like an
absolute idiot, and poured my energy into an imaginary field of mostly-invisible force, like I'd seen
from Bullrush. My hand shook a little, and I willed it to be.
Nothing happened.
 "Well, this is encouraging," Billy said helpfully from the corner.
"Says the guy who forgot how his chair worked a moment ago," Giselle fired back.
"I've never been close to this kinda shit before," Billy growled, "and besides, you can actually
make something pretty spectacular happen. What about him? He's just sitting there like a fucking--"
Irritation rolled through me in a burst of savage heat, and a hazy wall materialized in front of
my fingers. It wasn't much, just a lazy oval-shaped disk that looked like runoff heat-haze from a
campfire, but it was something.
Giselle's face lit up in a luminous grin of excitement, and I lowered my hand. The shield winked
out of existence, and a crazed grin of my own stretched across my face.
I'd done it. I'd actually fucking done it.
And it was all thanks to the mouthy doubting Thomas in the corner. Resilience was tough to
detect, although I could feel its absence now. It wasn't that I felt more frail, it was just that I felt. . .
less solid than I had before.
I still didn't have a clue how the whole game-menu thing worked, but I needed to find a way to
open up more slots for my active abilities. Surely my hard limit wasn't only one power at a time.
Maybe a wider library of stored powers, or leeching off stronger supers would grant me more variety.
"That's pretty fucking impressive," Chuck said.
He dropped an armful of armored vests, a couple of utility belts, and a small black case onto the
poker table before he ventured over to us with an astonished look on his face.
Giselle's eyes lit up at his presence, and she turned to me with a cheeky grin.
"I know how you can get the hang of this in a hurry," she said.
I tensed at her words, and gave her a skeptical glance. "Yeah?"
"Chuck, sling a punch at him," Giselle suggested. "See how good his shield is."
"Sure that'll help?" the huge guy asked.
"Pressure's the best way to learn," she said. "Go on."
Chuck, to his credit, didn't hesitate for a second.
6'5" of trained muscle drove a beautiful teep kick straight at my gut. I snapped my hand up in an
instinctive block, and a hazy shield of energy flared to life between us.
Chuck's size-15 boot smashed into the barrier and rocked me back a step.
But the shield held.
Tiny, barely-visible cracks spread through the disc of power.
Chuck caught his balance in a classic muay-thai stance, his hands high and his weight evenly
distributed across feet.
Excitement did the rounds through my nervous system, and I narrowed my eyes at the shield. It
looked compromised, but I needed to know its limits if I was going to use it to stop bullets.
Giselle's eyes brightened. "Hit him again!"
Chuck had arrived at the same conclusion as we had. He dived into a beautiful jumping elbow
with far more speed than he had any right to possess, and I was forced to move the shield upward to
catch 250+ pounds of sheer, pain-delivering mass.
My shield trembled under the impact, and the recoil of it forced me to bend my knees. Chuck
hung in the air, suspended for a moment, until I twisted my hips, and he slid off my barrier.
More cracks spiderwebbed through the shield, reminding me of bulletproof glass after a few too
many bullets.
But it continued to hold.
Chuck bulldozed toward me for a takedown, and I dropped into a crouch and extended whatever
was left of the barrier to halt his advance.
 The shield stopped him, but only just.
Chuck bounced off the barrier, and the energy dissipated with a gunshot-like crack.
My ass found the polished concrete, and Chuck grinned at me as he slid back to his feet with
practiced ease.
I joined him a moment later and ran my mind over what I'd just learned.
The shield was damn impressive. I didn't have a meter to measure how much force Chuck had
thrown at it, but I was pretty sure that it was just under what a regular super could casually manage.
The barrier deteriorated after impacts, which wasn't something I'd noticed with Bullrush. But he'd had
years to practice with it, while I was working with training wheels.
I needed to test something else.
I brought up the shield with another effort of will and did a quick sweep of my energy levels. I
wasn't tired, or feeling drained, which was an upside.
Giselle's earlier point, while a little unhelpful at the time, was starting to make more sense to
me. superpowers were fueled by confidence and willpower. Two things that all supers had in
abundance.
I maintained the shield, pulled the roll of cash out of my pocket, and under-armed it to Giselle.
The cash slipped through the wall of energy without an issue, and she caught it purely out of reflex.
"Oh, that is just cheating," she said, with a wicked grin.
"Yeah, it's not bad," I replied. "So I can keep bullets off me and shoot back while I'm doing it.
Damn handy little trick." I lowered the shield and caught the cash as Giselle flicked it back to me. I
turned to Chuck. "Thanks for the pressure testing, Hulk. Appreciate the help."
"Anytime," Chuck assured me. "That's fucking incredible stuff."
I flashed him a grin. "Not bad for a big talker?"
"Not bad at all." Chuck gestured for us to join him at the table. "But you're still skinny."
"Next to a mammoth like you, that's not hard."
"You're just in awe of my genetics," he fired back.
"There's advantages in being a fridge on legs," I said, "but you trade it off for a backstory in a
circus troupe and not being able to fit in hatchbacks. I'll stick to skinny."
"Circus fed me the right stuff." Chuck laughed.
"I hear a healthy diet of elephant feed does wonders for mass," Giselle agreed.
Billy made a face and spun his chair around to face us. "You three done?"
"Just getting started, Billy-boy," I said. "But if you want to get back on track, I'm going to need
you to dig up something for Giselle. She's sneaky as hell, but we need an extra edge."
"Way ahead of you," Chuck said.
He flipped open the small plastic case he'd dropped beside the vests and pulled out a classic
self-defense tool. It looked ancient--I'd seen smaller, sleeker designs--but Chuck pressed a button, and
a blue arc of electricity crackled between two prongs on the device.
"A stun gun?" Giselle said. "You don't want to give me a gun?"
"Kinda goes against the whole stealth thing, doesn't it?" I asked.
She acknowledged the point with a nod before taking the weapon with careful fingers. She gave
it another pulse of electricity, observed the dancing arc for a second, and set it down with a resigned
sigh.
I turned back to the table and took in the gear that Chuck had laid out for us.
Wireless comms were in another case, nestled comfortably in foam, but the vests were new.
Humanity had been using kinetic weaponry forever, and even with the increase of interest in mag-tech
to fling metal slugs at people, you couldn't go past bullets for good, old-fashioned hole-punching
technology. Ballistic armor had gotten more sophisticated, but there was only so much you could do to
stop projectiles that broke the sound barrier on their way out of a barrel.
"Haven't seen stuff like this before. Looks a little light," I commented.
"It's designed to be," Chuck said. "You heard about the spidersilk thing?"
"Yeah, stronger than tensile steel, etcetera. This is all spidersilk?"
"Woven in with your classic fibers and lightweight overlapping plates," Chuck said. "We know
some people who are prototyping it into regular clothes, but this is the best we can get from them at
the moment."
I lifted up the vest, impressed at how little it weighed. "Armor rating?"
"Supposedly can stop up to heavier rifles," Chuck said. "Although I wouldn't be lining up to test
it at a firing range. This should fit you, Giselle." The giant spun around the communication gear.
"These are pretty standard, nothing fancy. Wireless, battery life of up to two days, range sits at around
a mile. Small, lightweight. Shouldn't have a problem with them."
Chuck tossed both of us a balaclava. "These are to keep your faces hidden."
"Always wanted to look like a bank robber," Giselle said.
I noted the neatly-folded dark-gray clothes beside the rest of the gear. "And you even got us
matching outfits. Sure you didn't work as a tailor before all of this, Chuck?"
"Thank Billy for that one," Chuck said. "He's the style guy."
I eyed the lean merc in his suit critically for a moment. I had to admit, abrasive personality
aside, Billy could have made a living as an ambassador for a big fashion company. He turned back to
the monitors with a growl.
I swept the room for a more private place to change.
"Don't suppose you've got a bathroom here somewhere?" Giselle asked.
"Round the back," Chuck said, "on your right. It was hell to get plumbing in here, but we
managed it." He checked his watch. "Still got plenty of time before dark. You're heading out already?"
"Want to do some light recon," I said. "Not that I don't trust Big Brother over there, but it never
hurts to use your own eyes before you go kicking down someone's door."
Giselle and I gathered up the clothes, and we headed out together to find the bathroom behind
the last shelf in the back-right corner. A simple door led to a small, tiled area with all the bare
necessities that the two guys would need.
I shut the door behind us, took off my boots, and shucked out of my shirt.
Giselle leaned back against the sink with a positively vulpine smile, watching me slide my belt
out of my jeans and sling it around my neck for a moment.
"Getting war flashbacks?" I teased.
Her eyes lingered on my chest. "Just thinking about the last time we were in a bathroom
together. And that guarantee that you made this morning."
"Seems a little unprofessional." I stepped into the new pair of pants. "How about we survive
tonight, and worry about that afterward?"
Giselle considered that for a moment as she unbuttoned her jeans with a smirk. I paused to
watch her shimmy out of the tight pants. Noticing my interest, the damn tease turned it into a show.
She still had the same lingerie from last night, all white lace, and she lifted her shirt over her
head to complete the picture. I stared at her, admiring all the curves and muscle under her skin.
Giselle struck a subtle pose just to tease me a little more. "Sure you don't want me on my knees
again?"
My mouth went dry at the thought. "Later."
Giselle huffed a sigh and pulled the tight gray top over her head. It was a fantastic piece of
gear--it protected the throat, had long sleeves, and clung to her with catsuit-like tightness.
I pulled my pants up, belted them shut for a moment, but struggled a little cinching it. Giselle's
presence and her offer had kicked-off a war between front and hind-brain, and I needed to stay on-
mission in my head.
Giselle's fantastic legs vanished as she wormed her way into equally tight-fitting pants, and
slipped her shoes back on over her feet, bending over and wiggling slyly as she did.
I dressed myself similarly, but noticed while my shirt was tight, the pants were a little looser
and had useful pockets and spots to keep weapons and other gear. Chuck had provided us with a
heavy-duty backpack for the vests and the rest of the equipment.
Giselle turned to appreciate herself in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.
"Damn," she said. "Never thought I'd be into the tight stuff."
"Suits you."
She turned to admire her backside with a feline grin. "Yeah, looks that way."
"Weapon of mass distraction," I said. "Gonna be heading into a fight with a raging boner every
time, with you around looking like that."
Giselle barked a laugh. "Now that, I've got to see."
"Ideally, you'll have other things to watch. You ready?"
"If you're done staring at my ass, yeah."
I zipped the vests and comm gear into the backpack, slung it over a shoulder, and pushed the
bathroom door open.
The familiar burn of adrenaline trickled steadily into my bloodstream, and I made sure to
control my breathing to keep it at a manageable level.
But it was tough.
Hell, I'd achieved everything I'd set out to do so far, and more besides.
I had a gorgeous superpowered woman in a catsuit, ready to follow me into a suicide mission.
I had powers of my own, ready to lever an advantage against any vanilla threats.
Chuck had already come around. I could tell that the giant liked the two of us, and wanted to
work with us.
Billy would take a little more time to warm, but I knew that once we broke into the warehouse
and whacked Scourge, he'd be on our side.
And, with any luck, Gwen would trust us.
I'd only seen a facet of the Basement. This base in the storage facility was a merc's wet dream.
Intel on tap through the computers, heavy ordnance in abundance, and a secure location to retreat to
when things went pear-shaped?
I had to give Gwen and her people credit. They knew what they were doing.
My dad, as usual, knew exactly what he was talking about.
Now we just needed to break into a heavily-guarded facility, face off against Darkstalker's
psycho buddy, and strike another blow against Pinnacle. I shouldn't have been so excited about the
odds stacked against me.
But I'd always liked a challenge.

Chapter 14
"Are we going in yet?" Giselle asked, for maybe the tenth time.
I settled myself down comfortably on my elbows.
The two of us were up on a building across from the Pinnacle Outreach Center. The place was
closed for business, and it hadn't taken much to climb up over the fire escape and onto the roof.
There weren't any active cameras on the site, and it was a good spot to take stock of the loading
ramp and the situation around it.
We'd been there for more than a few hours, and Giselle was getting twitchy. I couldn't blame her
for that. Long stakeouts weren't in her skillset, and we weren't in a comfortable, high-pace corporate
routine.
"Not yet," I said in reply. "Sun's on its way down. We'll get moving soon enough."
Giselle huffed a sigh, glanced up over the edge of our perch, and scanned the loading dock for
the Outreach Center again.
We'd already taken stock of the defenses. It didn't look much like a charity organization. The
guards wore plain overalls, but each had pistols at their hip, earpieces feeding them updates, and posed
a pretty significant barrier for an easy infiltration of the premises.
They weren't perfect professionals, though. We could hear heavy machinery, and their chatter
echoed through the shells of empty warehouses around them. I couldn't make out the words, but the
unmistakable smell of cigarettes and vapes meant that they were on shit duty that they couldn't wait to
leave behind.
The workers moved sluggishly as they unloaded and loaded uniform fridge-sized boxes in and
out of trucks, keeping their heads down all the while.
"I'm not cut out for this waiting around stuff," Giselle said.
"I can tell," I told her with a grin.
"Don't know how you manage it," she continued, with a roll of her eyes. "Just planted here for
hours? How many of these kinds of things have you done before?"
"Enough to not let waiting bother me."
"That's irritatingly vague."
"I was going more for a mysterious vibe, but sure."
"Congratulations, you have the gold medal of mystery," Giselle said. "Run me through why we
can't just pull out the same trick that you used earlier. Head in, start a conversation with them, and let
me slip in the back."
"Civilians," I explained. "And the last time I tried that, Bullrush got pretty close to putting me
on the dollar menu. Just got lucky that Chuck and Billy were on hand to help me get out of there." I
made a face. "Would've been a lot messier otherwise."
"You think that those guards would just gun down their employees?"
"I'm thinking that if bullets start flying, they might get hurt. They didn't sign up for that. They're
just looking for some extra cash to start a new life. Kinda defeats the point of it if they end up in the
hospital with bullet holes."
Giselle stretched out, and looked good doing it. "So why not use your manly charisma to take
them off guard? Maybe you could pose as a union official or something."
"That's a one-way ticket to getting shot." I laughed. "Could you imagine?" I scanned the sky
and the lengthening shadows around the warehouse. "We'll wait until you've got decent cover. I'll start
a ruckus outside and come in after you."
"So how's that any different from the earlier plan?"
"This time I'm wearing a mask and an aura of mystery."
"One of these days we'll need to sit down and talk about your childhood," Giselle replied.
"Must've been something that happened. Might explain why you can't stop cracking wise."
A truck pulled away from the loading ramp, and I waited for the next one to roll in.
Ten minutes passed, but nothing new showed. The trucks had come in and out like constant
clockwork, but the tired-looking loaders filed inside, without any fresh boxes to load.
The guards fanned out to do a cursory check of the perimeter, and a cluster of them gathered
around the entrance. Cigarettes and lighters exchanged hands.
Giselle slid up into an effortless crouch that drew my attention to just how good her ass looked
in the slinky pants.
"Looks like they're done for the day," she observed.
"Change of the guard," I agreed. "Let's wait for the civs to get out of the way."
It took another ten or fifteen minutes, but soon enough, the workers filed out of the loading bay,
and stepped through the open gate in a ragged, exhausted pack.
I'd already scouted out the best entry points around the edges of the Outreach Center. The fences
around it were tall, but at least they weren't topped with razor wire. It would have been difficult to sell
the public on a place that looked like a prison compound, and that worked to our advantage.
A pack of four or five guards headed to their cars around the front of the facility, and gave us
the opening we needed.
I nodded to Giselle, and we hit the fire escape. Giselle's natural grace and added gymnastic
ability served her wonderfully--she slid off the edge of the building like she'd been doing it her entire
life, and climbed effortlessly down the side of the escape without even using the stairs. I had to work a
little harder to follow her, and she watched me clamber down the steel structure with a smirk on her
face.
"Smooth," she commented, when I hit the ground beside her.
I slid the backpack off my shoulders, did a perimeter check for any potential eyes on our
position, and then opened up the bag for our goodies. Giselle caught the stun-gun and vest easily
enough, and I drew out my own body armor and the hand-cannon that I'd convinced Billy to let me
borrow.
He hadn't provided me with fresh rounds, but given how effective the slugs were, I wasn't
surprised. They couldn't be easy to manufacture.
I'd just have to make the one shot count.
I slid the huge revolver into a holster on my hip and helped Giselle with her vest. I strapped it
tight against her back before I set up the communication gear without too much effort. They were
already paired to each other.
"Check," I said into the mic, as quietly as I could.
Giselle flashed me a thumbs-up with a smile, and she pulled the mask down over her face. I
followed suit, appreciating the texture of the material and the anonymity it gave the two of us.
The cameras around the compound were all at the main gates, and I'd made sure to stay well
clear of them when we'd set up our position to watch the guards. The shadows were long enough now,
but leftover sun still streaked through the clouds overhead.
"How well do you think you'll be able to blend in?" I asked.
Giselle's murmur came through crystal-clear in my earpiece.
"Well enough. Guess it depends on the kind of distraction you have in mind."
We ghosted past the six-foot fence and headed for the east corner, where the Center had its
industrial trash disposal. I kept my ears and eyes out for any patrolling guards, but none presented
themselves, and we arrived at our entry point without a hitch.
I offered Giselle a leg up over the fence, but she swarmed up the fence with practiced ease.
Shadows gathered around her as she hit the top of it and dropped noiselessly behind a trash compactor.
"Slick moves," I commented.
"You coming or what?"
 I climbed up over the steel fencing, a little louder and slower, and dropped down behind Giselle.
She pressed herself up against the edge of the compactor, peeked around the corner, and twitched a
couple of fingers.
Darkness coalesced around her, blurring her outline and rendering her all but invisible in the
shadows. I went to the other side of the machine and counted the guards. Three of them stood in a
loose circle with cigarettes and what I assumed was a riveting conversation.
"Distraction?" Giselle whispered.
"Civs are clear," I muttered. "May as well keep it simple. Ready?"
I barely caught her nod in the haze of blackness around her and grinned.
"Party time. Keep your head down."
I swung out from the cover of the trash compactor, strolled cheerily to the center of the loading
dock, and made a small game out of seeing how long it took the guards to notice me. I counted out in
long breaths--the longest six seconds of my life--and one of them dropped his cigarette in sheer shock.
My first instinct was to draw the monstrous gun on my hip and drill him through the skull
before he could warn his buddies, but that wasn't the plan.
"You guys know any good bars around here?" I called out.
The trio of guards spun and scrambled for their guns. I strolled closer, thumbs tucked into my
pockets, and suppressed the urge to start whistling. Adrenaline raged into my bloodstream, and every
tactical instinct I had screamed at me to take cover, draw my weapon, and start dropping bodies.
But that wasn't the play here.
"Show me your hands!" a guard roared. "Now!"
I flicked my hands up, spread out my fingers, and grinned at him.
"Get on your knees!" the second guy shouted.
"Pay me first," I called back.
They stared at me, uncomprehending, and made their second mistake. One of them jumped off
the loading dock and advanced on me with long, loping strides. The guy had good trigger discipline,
but closing on me was a mistake.
A mass of shadows crept up beside the other guards, who had their eyes and guns fixed on me
like a magnet. The advancing guard stopped just out of arm's reach, leveled his gun at my skull, and
glared at me.
"I'm not going to ask again, motherfucker," he snarled. "Get the fuck down onto your knees, or
I'll ventilate you right here and now."
"Not gonna read me my rights first?"
"I'm not a cop, shithead. Knees, now!"
I bowed my head, as if his words actually intimidated me, and started to slowly sink into a
crouch. He kept his eyes glued on my face, just as Giselle melted out of the darkness.
She appeared on the concrete ramp behind the first guy, slammed a kick up into his balls, and
drove her stun-gun into the second guy's neck. Howls of pain exploded as they toppled over, and my
would-be captor couldn't help himself.
He looked over his shoulder to see what the hell was happening.
I crossed the space between us with a lunge, bobbed out of the way of the pistol, and smashed a
low roundhouse into the guy's leg. I caught hold of his gun hand and yanked him further off-balance,
smashed him into the asphalt, and disarmed him with a deft twist of my hands.
My fingers slid instinctively around the gun, and the guard tried to scramble to his feet to keep
the fight going. I smashed a kick into his face before he could get his feet under him, and swept the
loading zone for any other guards.
 Nothing. Although it wouldn't be long before the alarms went off.
I bent over the guard, checked that he was out cold, and then tore out his earpiece. I slid it up
under the mask, into my free ear, and sprinted toward the raised ramp near the entrance to the
warehouse. I clicked on the safety of my stolen gun, slid it into the back of my pants, and vaulted up
to join Giselle.
She'd already scrambled both of the guards with a couple thousands volts each, and she offered
me a gun butt-first as I arrived. Her teeth flashed through her mask with a grin as I checked the
chamber, and nodded my approval.
We ghosted into the Outreach Center together.
It was no homeless shelter, that was for sure.
Catwalks lined the walls, ten feet up off the ground, and steel stairs snaked up to meet them at
four critical points. Huge shipping containers were laid out throughout the warehouse in a maze-like
pattern, which made sight lines tricky. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, bathed the entire space in
a weird yellowish gloom, but blue light shone up from seemingly random sections behind the
containers ahead of us. The unmistakable smell of ozone and crackle of electricity filled the air.
I scanned the catwalks and spotted patrolling guards above. They carried carbines, not pistols,
and stood decked out in tactical gear. I counted out eight of them, armed to the teeth with the best gear
that money could buy.
Suddenly the guys outside seemed like small-timers.
I spoke as quietly as I could manage to Giselle. "Guards up above need to go. Keep your eyes
open for the super. And don't pull your punches."
"Roger," Giselle replied, just as softly.
The all-but-invisible Giselle slipped deeper into the warehouse and vanished into the shadows
of the containers around us. Her Shadow-Stealth skill concealed the sound of her footsteps.
I crept forward as sneakily as I could. A burst of static echoed through my ear, and I heard a
panting voice broadcast through the guard's channels.
"Breach, breach! Two trespassers, heavily armed, masks!"
"Where?" demanded one of the guys above us.
"They came in through the loading ramp. Armed and dangerous. And. . . I think they might be
superpowered, sir."
A cold, clinical tone came online over the comms. "What?"
"We didn't see one of them until she was on top of us, sir."
I slid past one of the containers, making sure to stay focused on the conversation. Any intel I
could wrangle out of these guys would give Giselle and me an edge against them.
The cold voice had to be the leader, and ten bucks said it was Scourge. The guy's voice
reminded me of smiling serial killers in documentaries, and the sheer lack of humanity in his tone
would have given me the heebie-jeebies if I hadn't already run across Darkstalker and Bullrush.
"That just makes you incompetent," the cold voice said.
"Shall we call for backup, sir?" the guard outside asked.
"Did you hear me ask for it?" Mr Psycho-Voice replied.
"N-no, sir."
The clatter of boots on steel steps froze me in my tracks.
One of the guards had descended down from the catwalks above. It was a miracle that they
hadn't already spotted me, but I put that down to the outfit I wore. Pure black could stand out in low
light, in some cases. But the dark gray of my clothes made me virtually indistinguishable from the
containers and the concrete, unless you looked really close.
 I slowed my breathing as the patrolling guard stalked into my sightline. He had his rifle ready,
braced up to his shoulder. He scanned efficiently for threats through a pair of tactical goggles as he
swept his head left and right.
I needed to neutralize him, and fast.
And I couldn't afford to use the kid gloves, either.

Chapter 15
I turned and sprang at the guard's unprotected back. He caught the movement a second too late.
I slammed a hand over his mouth, snaked a blood choke around his neck, and hauled him into the
shadows under the catwalk.
The guy was in shape, and he had training. He tried to plant his feet and get his center of gravity
back under him, but I just tightened my choke and kicked out his leg again. Strangled grunts slipped
out from behind my hand, muffled by the weird hum in the air of the warehouse.
A couple of seconds later, he was out like a light. I held the choke for another seven seconds,
just to make sure the guy was out for the count, and left his body under the catwalk.
I unslung his rifle from his shoulder, and a red light flared next to the fire-selector. I frowned at
it, noticing pads around the weapon's pistol-grip. I'd heard of finger-print coding for weapons before,
but in the places I'd trained, it was prohibitively expensive. Pinnacle didn't seem to have a lack of
money, though, and I muttered a silent curse. A rifle would have been a direct upgrade to my stolen
handguns.
I'd just have to improvise.
"1-B, what's your status?" another merc asked.
I ignored the question and made my way into the maze of steel in the center of the warehouse. I
was on a timer, and I needed to know where the hell the weird buzzing was coming from.
Unease slipped through the guards' voices as they tried to contact their fallen comrade. I
rounded the corner of a shipping container and found the source of the electric hum.
A wide, foot-high platform stretched out in front of me. Smaller containers, machinery, and
screens clustered around the base of the machine, but it was the source of the power that rooted me to
the spot.
A naked guy hung suspended in the air above the platform. Manacles encircled his wrists and
ankles, and he looked like he was lying flat on his back on an invisible table. Arctic lightning boiled
through his veins. Glowing blue energy rippled out of his fingertips in sparks of lightning, and the
humming platform below him drank in the electricity.
Barrel-like batteries stood in a bank at the side of the machine, and blue progress bars slowly
ticked up as the structure drank in power from the motionless guy above.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
The lightning from the naked guy had to be some kind of superpower, but Pinnacle's schtick
was to field their own heroes to fight against the nebulous threat of supervillains.
The machine had to be designed to fill the batteries from the prisoner's latent energy. That was
the source of the Outreach Center's power--they were piping batteries full of juice from supers, then
shipping them out to Pinnacle's other buildings. Batteries would ensure that Pinnacle wasn't beholden
to the city's power grid.
We weren't attacking a central pillar of Pinnacle's operation--this place was designed to be a
fucking contingency.
Giselle's voice, low and edged with adrenaline, came through the comms.
 "Dean? What's going on?"
"Found out how they get their power," I whispered back. "I'm going to start wrecking their
operation. Start with the guards up on the catwalks. Any sign of Scourge, let me know."
"Understood," Giselle murmured back.
I crept over to the control panel, found a big red button, and pressed it.
The effect was instantaneous.
The low hum of the blue energy vanished from the platform, and the naked prisoner collapsed
like a sack of bricks. His back smashed into the glossy surface, but he didn't stir.
I stepped up onto the platform, just as every alarm in the building went off. Klaxons blared
through hidden speakers, red lights exploded overhead, and shouts filled the mercs' comms.
"Breach, breach!" one of them shouted.
"They're in the building!" another howled, and his voice cut off in a sudden burst of static.
Giselle hadn't been idle, and I couldn't afford to, either.
While panic set into the armed guard around us, I swarmed up onto the platform and dropped
into a crouch next to the naked super.
I didn't know what his powers were, but whatever that lightning shit was, I needed some of it
for later. I laid a hand on his shin, glanced up onto the catwalk behind me, and saw a guy stop and
shoulder his rifle.
Instinct took over. I raised my free arm, willed a shield to appear, and a shimmering disc of
force appeared. A rifle round thumped into the shield with sparks. It spun off into the containers beside
me with a ringing ricochet, and the damn notification finally flared up around my vision.

[Transfer Failed]
[Corrupted Subject]

Another round slammed into my shield and cracked it. I dived into a roll with a curse. I still
hadn't got my head around how my power-transferral worked, but it obviously didn't work on
Pinnacle's test subjects.
I slid over the glossy floor of the machine, aimed for the batteries mounted next to the platform,
and pulled up another shield around my feet. I stomped the heavy barrel-like storage units with
everything I had.
One flew free of a socket and smashed into the ground. Lights flickered out over our heads. The
shadows grew longer.
The visibility got worse for the guy who had a bead on me, and another round whipped past my
ear as I scrambled off the energy-siphon and back to the cover of the containers.
"I have eyes on one, near unit number 3," reported the shooter.
I held a hand to my ear so I could reply back to him.
"Yeah, and you can't shoot for shit."
"Comms are compromised!" the guard shouted.
I glued my back up against the solid steel of a container and peeked out to find the tattletale. A
red laser-sight danced over the ground and my cover, giving me a pretty good idea of where he was set
up.
I double-checked the chamber of the gun in my hand, grimaced, and swung out of cover. My
shield whipped up to protect me from any stray rounds, and I fired thrice at the shadowy figure on the
catwalk. It was dark, I didn't have Giselle's eagle eyes, but I'd spent years in worse conditions with
worse weapons. The bullets hit home, and the guy staggered back.
 I couldn't confirm any killshots, but I had an opening.
I sprinted further into the maze of containers and aimed for the closest source of blue light. I'd
left the unconscious super alive, since I couldn't tell if the guy was an innocent or not. The guys in an
elevated position with hate-boners for me, though?
They were fair game.
Bullets skipped off the concrete and the steel around me. Bright sparks of light exploded against
crates, almost blinding in the half-darkness, but none hit.
The guys above were blind-firing at a moving target. So long as I didn't run into a bouncing
round, I'd be fine. Adrenaline charged through me, and I heard Giselle grunt through the comms.
A high-pitched scream echoed throughout the warehouse as a guard upended himself and
plummeted to embrace the concrete below. That counted for three definite enemies down. Five left,
with the added fun of a homicidal super with a cold voice.
"They're going for the generators, you fuckwits," Scourge said calmly.
"Sir, what about the others?" another guy shouted, panicked.
"Keep your eyes open," the super murmured. "You'll be fine."
A fierce grin stretched over my face as I slid past another container and arrived at the second
siphon. Giselle was hell on wheels. She was all but invisible in the dark, impossible to hear, and even
without the proper training, surprise was a hell of a tool in a chaotic environment.
I angled for the control panel and deactivated the field holding a painfully-emaciated woman in
the air. She dropped to the ground like a stone. I sprinted around the wide circular disc of the machine,
grabbed hold of one of the batteries, and dragged it away from the central unit. It was heavy as hell,
but I was more than strong enough. I ripped all three of the barrel-like units out of the machine.
More of the lights in the warehouse winked out.
"Interesting tactics," Scourge's soft voice murmured. "Focus fire."
Oh, shit.
I raised another shield, just in time. Bullets tap-tap-tapped into the translucent disk, shattering it
almost instantly, but it'd bought me the space I needed to dive back into cover.
Another round cracked off the container above my head, and the brief flash of light illuminated
a badge on the side of a crate that I'd seen before.
SilverSky Industries.
My dad's folded company.
My eyes widened, yards of rationalization whipped through my head, and I elected to ignore
them. What the actual fuck? How had my dad gotten mixed up with Pinnacle? Why had I found his
insignia here, of all places, in the middle of a torture-powered power station?
A cannon-like muzzle went off above my head, and a heavy round the size of a soda can tore
through the steel four inches above my head. A shower of sparks and molten metal cascaded down
over my head, and Scourge let out a small chuckle.
I heard a huge bolt roll back on what I assumed was a portable howitzer before I broke for a
thicker piece of cover.
"You can run, but you can't hide," Scourge said in a quiet sing-song.
I raised a hand to my stolen earpiece as I ran. "You can spit old cliches, but that doesn't make
them cool."
I couldn't help it. My adrenaline was up, my fight-or-flight was in full gear, and the instinctive
terror of a firefight just demanded that I talk shit. I'd have gone crazy, otherwise, become some
screaming headless chicken in the middle of a half-lit shooting gallery.
Another beast of a round missed me by two feet, blew through a container, and left a fist-sized
hole in the thick metal.
Holy shit, what did he have up there? And where the hell had Scourge set up?
I caught a flash of blue energy behind me and pulled up a Barrier just in time. A streak of
lightning smashed into my protective wall, spilled out around me in an oddly-liquid fashion. The
naked woman from the last conduit stared at me with wide, hate-filled eyes.
Oh, boy, the human batteries were waking up cranky.
Blue light shone through the veins in her skin, lit her up like a neon sign. My gut twisted a little
further as she advanced forward with an incomprehensible screech of pure agony. She dragged one of
her feet behind her, and fresh power boiled up to her fingertips.
My whole arm tingled from the first impact, but my shield had held true against the surge of
energy. I didn't know how I'd fare against a second one, and with each breath that passed, I had a
psycho with a cannon drawing another bead on me.
"I'm not your enemy!" I shouted to her. "I pulled you out of there!"
She didn't hear me. Or she didn't care.
The lightning-infused banshee launched herself across the concrete at my flank. Arcs of
electricity sparked off her body, licking her surroundings as she went. She stretched her hands out to
grab my throat.
Lightning flickered between her fingertips, and my gut instinct took over. I couldn't let her get
hold of me.
I brought up my pistol, shot her twice in the chest, and once in the skull. The science
experiment dropped like a stone, and the lightning in her body vanished, like a light flicking off.
Another hail of bullets smashed into my shield, shattered it, and one cracked into my shoulder.
The sheer force of it rocked me back like a heavyweight boxer's punch, but it didn't penetrate my vest.
I turned and I ran like hell, weaving in zig-zag to throw off the shooter's aim, and fought off the
nausea in my gut.
Whoever these new, made-to-order supers were, they weren't like the rest.
They were disposable, organic batteries for Pinnacle. They hadn't been gifted with the same
toughness, virtual invincibility, or earth-shattering power. I couldn't shake the feeling that they'd been
made, and not found in the wild. Which opened a whole new barrel of monkeys that I wasn't ready for.
Another scream of pain and terror echoed through the warehouse as Giselle dumped another
merc off the catwalk.
I made a beeline for the third siphon.
"Getting tired?" Scourge whispered in my ear.
"Getting tired of your bullshit," I fired back. "Where'd you learn to shoot?"
I skidded into a slide as he made a soft hissing noise, and another huge round whipped over my
head and hit a stack of pallets. Flaming splinters exploded into the air, as if a grenade had just gone
off, and I covered up with a shield to take the worst out of the cloud of shrapnel.
I dipped to the left, rounded another corner, and found myself face-to-face with one of the
mercs. The barrel of his rifle snapped toward me, and I lifted my shield up just as his finger squeezed
the trigger.
The shot ricocheted off the hazy barrier, and Giselle appeared out of nowhere like an avenging
angel.
She lunged down from the top of a container, half-obscured by shadows, and fly-kicked the
soldier in the face. His head snapped back, and he rocketed away from her. A metallic crash echoed as
his lifeless body smashed into a pile of crates, and slumped into them like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Having fun yet?" Giselle called out with a laugh in her voice.
 "Oh, you just made this interesting," Scourge murmured. "Two for the price of one?"
I sprinted toward Giselle, threw up a shield behind me, and tackled her just as Scourge let off
another round.
The huge bullet shattered my shield instantly, sending us both rolling over the concrete, all
tangled up in each other. I covered Giselle's head to protect her from the floor, and as we came to a
halt, I spotted a lone figure in the shadows above.
He hadn't taken up a position on the catwalks, like I'd expected. Scourge was in the maze of
rafters, way above us, like some kind of crazed bird with an artillery piece.
I got my feet under me, yanked Giselle up on hers, and we broke for cover. Now I understood
why I hadn't been able to get clear of the guy--he had a birds-eye view of the whole warehouse.
If we stood in place too long, we'd end up splattered all over the concrete with the consistency
of chunky salsa.
"Guards?" I asked.
"Mostly dealt with," Giselle fired back.
"Attagirl. Time for the main event, then."
"Main event?"
"Yeah," I said. "Need to get the bird out of his nest."

Chapter 16
I tracked Scourge as we moved through the maze of industrial crates, containers, and
technology around us. I'd knocked out the lights to make it easier for Giselle to maneuver, but the
downside was that the shooter above us was harder to see.
I could just make out his outline, crouched on a thick girder, with a huge gun that could only
barely be described as a sniper rifle in his hands. He looked like some kind of giant praying mantis, a
lethal insect poised above us, ready to strike at any time.
I fired off two or three rounds at him as we moved. One of the 9mms sparked off his armor.
"Ouch," Scourge said, without a hint of emotion.
He sent a round through the concrete a foot away from Giselle. The explosion blasted outward,
left a crater in the floor, and blew her into me. My footing slipped, and we both crashed through a pile
of cardboard boxes.
I whipped a shield up behind Giselle with my free arm, and we slammed up against another set
of SilverSky crates. A computer monitor clattered to the ground behind us, and, despite the
circumstances, I couldn't help but notice how smooth and curvy Giselle's form felt against mine.
"Nice piece of ass you've got there," Scourge observed.
I lifted my pistol, glared up at him, and half-dumped a mag at the shadowy figure above. More
shots hit his armor, and even if they didn't hurt him, they were enough to unbalance the guy.
He toppled backward, caught on the girder, and his huge gun swung into the air from a strap on
his back. It was tough to see in the dark, but his weapon looked like the kind of piece you used on
Godzilla, not a couple of humans.
"I've bought us some time," I said, "maybe a couple of seconds."
"What do you need me to do?" Giselle asked.
"Head to the other siphons," I said, "and shut them all down. Keep your distance from the
people in them, though. They're dangerous, unhinged, and dangerously unhinged."
"So they're both? What if they decide to come after you?"
"I'll deal with it," I said, and fired off another two rounds at the super above.
 "And him?" Giselle shouted.
"I'll bring him down to our level," I assured her. "Go."
Giselle untangled herself from me, gathered a fresh veil of shadows around herself, and then
lunged into the dark behind us. Her lithe form vanished a second later.
I pulled myself up, kept my gun pointed up at the stalker above us, and fired off another round.
Scourge swung himself from one girder to another, like a monkey, and climbed up around a thick
pillar.
The chatter from the guards had died. Either Giselle had already taken them all out, or they'd
split to get backup. One outcome was perfect, and the second wasn't ideal in the slightest.
I just had to trust the process and worry about the super with the bazooka.
"Sneaky little bitch," Scourge commented.
"With bigger balls than you," I replied.
Scourge snorted softly. "That remains to be seen."
Another source of blue light abruptly cut out, and a soft hiss came in over the comms. Scourge
could talk a big game, but he couldn't land a shot. Every bullet was either a miss, or I managed to bail
myself out of the way at the last second.
Or he was purposely not trying to hit me.
A blast of electricity lit up the warehouse for a second, and I saw Scourge drop down from the
ceiling. His boots clanked into the metal of a container, and I made my way through the maze of
industrial equipment toward where he'd set up.
"Where are you?" Scourge asked.
"You won't find her," I assured him. "Be the same as trying to spot Darkstalker."
Scourge's breathing stopped for a moment.
I ignored the howling alarms, flashing lights, and crept out to the edge of the warehouse. No
motion caught my eye from the catwalks, further solidifying my theory that the mercs were out of the
picture. I circled around to catch Scourge on his flank.
"What?" Scourge demanded.
"You guys were buddies, right?" I asked him with a smirk. "Hung out at the same metal clubs?
Probably got matching dick piercings or something? Come on, man, you both need therapy. Well, one
of you does."
Blue electricity scored the air, whipped into a pile of boxes on a catwalk, and immediately burst
into flames. The few remaining bars of light above us erupted into showers of sparks and found other
flammable things in the warehouse, starting a fire inside of the Outreach Center.
I drew closer and closer to Scourge's position, switching my pistol over to my left hand. I drew
Billy's big-iron out of its holster and started up one of the stairways to the elevated catwalks. A
crumpled merc laid across the top of the stairs, twitches still rolling through him from Giselle's
electric surprise, and I took cover behind one of the handrails.
Fires flared around the edges of the building, and I finally got my first good look at the super.
Scourge wore a blend of tactical gear and plate armor, all black with purple highlights. His face
was hidden behind a smooth, featureless helmet, and I could spot at least three guns strapped to his
belt and back. A long dagger-like knife was sheathed on his belt, and he even had a few canisters at his
disposal that I had to assume were nonlethal grenades. The trigger-happy super was laid out in a prone
position, with a four-foot gun with a specialized barrel spread out on the container before him.
I didn't have a clear shot from the railing. All I'd do would focus his attention on me, and the
only bullet I had any confidence in was the revolver. A long-distance shot from my elevated position
was too risky. I wanted to be 100% sure that when I pulled the trigger, the slug would hit Scourge and
give me the opening that I needed to bring him down once and for all.
Slow and quiet, I crept toward him along the edge of the catwalk.
Scourge spoke up again, and there was an underlying edge to his voice, something that hadn't
been there before.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Bit of a deep question for a firefight, isn't it?"
A short hiss whipped through his teeth. "You make me ask again, I'll tear your whore in half
from the waist up. It'll be one hell of a mess. Scorched intestines, spine everywhere--"
"Try the snuff porn on someone else," I interrupted. "You haven't got a bead on her."
He swept the rifle's barrel back and forth, searching fruitlessly for targets in the haze of smoke
and fire.
The smart play would have been to focus on the energy sources in the building and wait for an
anomaly, but Scourge wasn't used to deep water like this. He was plenty scary, but I'd coaxed him out
of his elevated position, and made it personal for him. The banter back and forth was a game, a way to
psyche each other out.
"No?" Scourge asked with a quiet chuckle.
Using the revolver to prop up my other gun, I let off a short barrage of rounds. They plinked off
the metal around him in showers of sparks, and one caught him in the back of his head. His helmet
bounced off the container, and he snarled a curse.
He rolled, whipped a gun out of an underarm holster, and let off a burst of chattering fire in
response. I dived for another point of cover, but two of the bullets hit me, dead-center, and blew me
onto my side. The vest stopped the rounds, but it hurt like hell.
"Nope," I agreed, with a grin.
"Little fucking--" Scourge stood up.
The super raised his machine-pistol and scanned the catwalk for me. I threw up a shield for
cover and sprinted across the walkway. Scarily-accurate rounds pinged off my shield, despite the high
rate of fire, and shattered it.
I pushed more willpower into a fresh one, ignored the ricochets and the flares of sudden terror
in my gut, and kept running. The more ammo he wasted on me, the less he'd have for Giselle. More
bullets chattered out of the extended magazine, but Scourge didn't stop for a second to reload.
Was that his superpower? Hacked magazines that never ran dry?
"Wrong caliber," I said. "Gonna need something juicier than that."
I spun shields off my hand, replacing each shattered and damaged field with a new one, and
kept the hailstorm of bullets from ventilating my skull. A couple might have skipped past my vest, but
I was so jacked on adrenaline that I barely felt the bruises. Everything was too crazy.
The smell of molten metal, cordite, chemically-infused smoke, and ozone hung in the air all
around us. The alarms were almost deafening, and it was borderline impossible to get a good sight-
line past twenty or thirty feet. Scourge took his finger off the trigger, and I skidded into a slide behind
another railing with metal plates.
"I'll smoke you out soon enough," Scourge said.
"Won't be an issue," I told him. "I'm coming to you."
"Good luck with that. I'll take your head off before you get within ten feet."
I peeked over the edge of the railing. He peered through the smoke, his mask concealing any
expression he might have had. Scourge hooked a foot under his huge gun, flipped it up to his hands,
and set it to his shoulder like anyone else might have done with an assault rifle. But he hadn't found
me yet, despite his ludicrous aim and razor-sharp visions.
 Man, I needed to steal his powers, and fast. Whatever he had at his disposal was a hell of a
skillset, and I wanted it for my own.
"Tell me something, Scrooge," I said. "What did you fuck up?"
"You got me crossed up with someone who makes mistakes."
"No, I'm pretty sure on this one," I continued. "I mean, you're fucking terrifying, right? Running
around in all your cool armor, waving around a gun that more than compensates for the fact that your
dick probably looks like my big toe. But why post you here, of all places? In a low-rent, back-up
facility of illegal experimentation?"
Scourge let a round off. It smashed into the supports under my perch.
I stayed perfectly still, ignoring the bone-deep urge to bolt before my footing gave out beneath
me. The super racked back a bolt on his weapon, ejected a huge shell, and slammed a fresh grenade
back into the chamber.
"Did they find out about the cocaine problem?" I taunted. "Or the hookers?"
Another blast erupted under my feet, and the platform teetered back toward the corner of the
warehouse. I had to move, but I knew that was what Scourge had in mind. He knew where my cover
was. The moment I popped my head out, he'd turn me into a Sunday special delivery meal with extra
fries on the side.
A crackle of electricity and a strangled grunt echoed through Scourge's mic, and I peeped over
the railing to see a shadowy figure spin away from Scourge's perch. Giselle rolled up onto her feet,
quick as anything, and the massive cannon vanished into a blazing mass of fire beside an energy
siphon.
"Be right with you," I told her. "Keep your distance."
I tracked the fight as I parkoured off the catwalk, sprinted across the platforms, and launched
myself down the stairs as fast as I could manage it.
Scourge didn't fuck around. He drew his machine-pistol with one hand, leaving off a chattering
burst with it. Giselle, still half-invisible even a few feet away, dodged and weaved around his aim.
Bullets scattered and skipped off the container under her feet.
I closed the distance, brought up a shield, and leapt clean through a wall of fire. I emerged from
the inferno and brought up my gun again, looking for a shot with the regular 9mm.
Scourge drew his dagger, flipped it into a reverse grip, and advanced on Giselle. She swept
shadows around herself and jumped off the container with a sudden flip. The super drew his arm back,
as if to throw his knife at her, but I cracked a bullet off his helmet and got his attention.
I used a smaller crate to boost myself up to the top of the container and bared a toothy grin at
the super. Flames reflected off his featureless black mask. My shots had scratched the paint off his
armor, but Scourge wasn't any more threatened by the 9mm in my hand than a dad facing off against
his son's toy gun.
Smoke curled around us, and he lowered the knife until it was parallel with his leg.
"You didn't answer my question," I said. "They've got a real operation here, something huge.
Very dangerous for Pinnacle's PR, if anything gets out. What'd you do? Implant some of your social
projects? Turn them into organic power turbines?"
Scourge didn't react. He stood there like a statue.
"Now it's all up in flames," I said. "Subjects are loose. Fire department has to be on its way
already, right? And what's big, badass Scourge done about it?" Another mocking grin stretched across
my face. "He played with his food. And now this is all on you."
"You killed Darkstalker," Scourge said flatly.
"No, I didn't. Someone blew him up with a remote control." I kept my eyes on the center of his
chest and waited for him to make his move. "But I did take his powers before he did a pretty good
Scanners impression. So it wasn't a total waste."
"He was my friend," the super snarled.
"Your special friend, or your regular friend?" I asked, innocently.
Scourge brought his arm up, the one holding the machine pistol, and I ripped a shield out of my
mind and into reality with a gesture. It shimmered between the two of us for a moment, and Scourge
lifted his finger out of the trigger guard.
He tilted his head ever-so-slightly to the left, as if confused, and Giselle made her move.
The athletic young woman sprang over the edge of the container, slid across it like a baseball
star, and tackled into the super's legs like a feral cat.
Scourge staggered, whipped his knife around at her, but I shot his helmet and threw off his aim.
Giselle slammed her stun-gun into his inner thigh, depressed the trigger, and got a knee to the face for
her troubles. Scourge swayed slightly, staggered forward, and trained his rapid-fire handgun at Giselle.
I lifted up the huge revolver in my main hand, drew a bead on Scourge's center mass, and pulled
the trigger. The handcannon roared in my hand before it struck into the super's breastplate and bowled
him over. I slammed the revolver back into its holster and closed the distance.
I didn't know how long the bullet would keep the fucker down for, how well it'd worked on him,
or whether or not I could even find some skin to absorb his powers.
But it was that or Giselle's life.
Giselle, for her part, didn't lay idle. She shrugged off the shellshock from a hard blow to the
head like a champ, scrambled up into a crouch, and punched the stun-gun into Scourge's neck.
The super twitched and spasmed as my partner-in-crime scrambled his brains with electricity. I
bull-rushed into the super, pinned him down with a strong mount, and pressed my stolen 9mm up
under his chin. Giselle tore the stun-gun away from him, giving me a window in which to work.
Scourge was a walking tank.
He had armor, either metal or fiber, on almost every inch of him. It must have been hell to get
into and out of.
I searched him with quick, rapid motions, until I found his gloves and tore them down away
from his wrists. The super shivered for a moment and strength flooded back into his body. Even with
Billy's magic bullet and a couple of thousand volts from Giselle, Scourge wasn't about to make it easy
for us.
I latched onto his wrist, squeezed it with everything I had, and waited for what felt like a small
eternity for the notification to turn up.
Scourge lashed out with an arm, spinning Giselle off the container and into the concrete below.
He half-sat up, oblivious to the gun under his chin. Or maybe he just didn't care. He lifted his hand
with the gun, brought the barrel closer to my face in slow motion--
A window flared over my vision.
I released my hold on his wrist and pulled the trigger.
The pistol sent two muffled barks up into his lightly-armored throat, and the rounds must have
ricocheted off the inside of his helmet, because there wasn't any exit damage to the helmet. Scourge
went as stiff as a board, and his gun fell away from his hand.
The super crumbled onto his back, dead.
I stared at the new window of opportunity with a massive grin.

[Transfer Complete ]
[Scourge Powers Added ]
 [Refill Container ]
[Darkvision ]
[Accuracy ]

I dismissed the window with a quick effort of thought as my situation awareness screamed at
me.
The warehouse was on fire, I didn't know Giselle's status, and there were more siphons to shut
down. I slid off the edge of the container, hit the concrete, and rolled to break my fall.
Giselle was already on her feet, eyes wide with excitement.
"You got him?" she asked.
"Sure did. You good?"
"Better than good. He hits like a girl."
I skirted around the edge of the container and found Scourge's huge rifle on the ground. I
hoisted it up, ignoring just how damn heavy the thing was. My later guesses about the weapon had
been right--it was some kind of grenade launcher with rifle-like precision. Overkill for any urban
environment, but just about the right size if you were hunting supers. Even if it didn't kill them, it
would mess their day up.
Howls of pain cut through the blaring sirens and flickering lights, and the smoke thickened into
an oppressive wave of smog. I hadn't brought a gas mask, but the masks we wore would give us some
kind of reprieve for a moment.
"Time to leave?" Giselle asked.
"Right after we're done with the siphons," I assured her. "Come on--we've got a facility to
annihilate."

Chapter 17
"Annihilate?" Giselle asked.
"To fuck up beyond all recognition, utterly destroy, or otherwise stick it so far up Pinnacle's ass
that they're shitting out boot leather for a week," I clarified. I bent my knees, threw the grenade-rifle
back up on top of the container, and nodded to the nearest siphon. "Do you think you can get anything
out of their computer systems here?"
"Didn't bring the right equipment to get into the setups they have here," Giselle said, with a soft
curse. "And those sparkly supers are a handful. Any chance we can catch one of them alive, use them
as evidence against Pinnacle? They've got to be some kind of experiment, right?"
"My thoughts exactly," I said, and jumped up to catch the edge of the container. "But we don't
have the gear to take them in, and if we let them out of here, they'll raise the property prices in the
Industrial District by a scenic mile. And we're trying to fuck with Pinnacle's publicity, not give them a
reason to swoop in and save the day."
"Surely they're already on their way?"
"Probably," I agreed. "Or maybe they want to sit tight and look like the victims. Doesn't change
anything. We've got to put down the threats, and hightail it out of here as fast as we can. If you can get
anything out of the machines, do it. Otherwise, unhook the sparkplugs, and I'll take care of them."
Giselle nodded, flashed me another grin, and vanished into the smoke like a wraith.
I set up on the container, laid the huge rifle out in front of me, and checked it for fingerprint
scanners. There weren't any, thankfully, and I couldn't help but smile at that. Scourge had his own
personal howitzer, but he was arrogant enough to assume that no one would be able to take it from
him.
I laid the gun to my shoulder and peeked through the sights.
A dedicated readout appeared around the edges, gauged wind resistance, and told me how many
rounds were left in the magazine. Four shots.
A flare of blue off to the right caught my attention, and I swung the cannon around to get eyes
on the threat. A naked old guy staggered out of the smoke. He leaned against a steel beam, and a bolt
of lightning crackled through the whole structure of the building.
I laid the sights on him with a grimace and pulled the trigger. The whole gun launched back into
my body, threatened to dislocate my shoulder, and blew the experiment's upper torso into bloody,
sparking chunks.
Around us, the smoke built up higher and higher, and I hoped that Giselle's Resilience ability
would shield her from the worst of it. Her steady and strangely-calm voice echoed through my
earpiece.
"Got another one here, on your ten o'clock."
I swept the rifle back to the left, found another source of blue light, and waited. More lights
winked out above us, but the steady glow of Scourge's custom scope illuminated a humanoid shape
through the smoke.
No wonder he'd been able to pick us out in the dark. His gear, added to his own inbuilt powers,
would have made it a shooting gallery. But he hadn't counted on my Barrier ability, or willingness to
close the distance and end him.
The figure ripped itself away from the platform, flinging itself to the left. I couldn't spot
Giselle--probably due to her own abilities--but I had a pretty good idea of the sparkplug's intentions. I
blew the figure apart into a cloud of gore, and did a quick head count.
I could account for three of the conduit-supers, and that left three still suspended in their fields.
EMTs, police, and Pinnacle would be on their way by now. Window to escape was getting narrow. We
could bail, get away clean, and call this mission accomplished.
But that sounded like the bitch's way out.
We weren't superheroes. Far from it. But the businesses in Empyrion had enough to worry about
with property damage from the supers, and the employees of those businesses just wanted to go home
with a hard-earned day's pay. They hadn't asked for electric lunatics on the streets.
I swung the huge gun toward the next siphon, rolled my shoulder to loosen it up, and blocked
out the howling noise and the reek of chemical fires.
"Three more," I said to Giselle.
"Two more," she corrected.
I peered through the smog, spotted another one of the conduits, and blew the naked experiment
apart before the figure even had time to drop to the glassy surface below.
Pulling myself up to my feet, I grabbed the gun up, and slid off the top of the container again.
The fucking cannon was heavy as hell, but I tossed it up onto my shoulder and trundled to the exit. I
left the huge weapon by the door, made a mental note to take it with us as a gift to Billy, before
sprinting back into the chaos of the warehouse.
I pulled the second stolen gun out of the back of my pants, flicked off the safety, and beelined
toward the last two sources of light. I leapt over a crate, skidded past the corpse of a guard, and arrived
just in time.
Giselle flew away from one of the sparkplugs, smashed into a pile of SilverSky crates, and
vanished from sight. The crackling superhuman whirled around, lightning arced from his fingertips,
and I raised my shield.
 Blinding bright electricity slammed into it a second later, the impact shoving me a few feet
backward. Arcs flickered out, and I steadied my handgun on my upraised forearm. I fired three times,
two in the chest and one in the head. The living battery dropped like a stone.
I dropped my shield and sprinted toward Giselle, but she'd already lifted herself out of the pile
of crates. Smoke curled up off her clothes, and she dusted off her shoulder.
"Ouch," she growled.
"Damn," I said. "Keeps on ticking after a licking."
"Pretty sure that's how it's supposed to go," Giselle replied with a saucy wink.
We whirled toward the last siphon, and my partner smacked my ass as she sprinted past me.
Damn, I loved this girl. She'd gone from confident corporate negotiator to a badass in two days. She'd
just shrugged off a huge surge of electricity like it was nothing. Scourge's strikes had knocked her
around, but she'd bounced back almost instantly. Even with my own Resilience ability, I hadn't been
quite that tough.
I darted after her, swept around a pile of burning trash, and held my breath as best I could. The
thick smoke burned my eyes and made my vision blurry. I hated to think what kind of chemicals were
in the air.
I'd worry about it later, once I'd had time to sit down and process everything.
The last of Pinnacle's experiments hung suspended in the air, trapped by an invisible energy
field.
I didn't wait for Giselle to unhook them. Three bullets tore through their body. I dropped the gun
back into the small of my back and tore the batteries free of the unit. Giselle bent over it and
accompanying screens for a moment.
A particularly acrid cloud hit my lungs, and a fit of coughing ripped through my chest after a
second. My vision was hazy, and if I stayed here for too much longer, I'd be out cold.
Giselle straightened up, hooked my arm with hers, and dragged me through the maze of
containers. The fires had crept through the warehouse, and a huge ball of flames flared up behind us as
the blaze guzzled greedily on the readily-available fuel.
I managed to angle Giselle toward Scourge's gun. I tried to hoist it up over my shoulder, but she
took it off me, and slung it safely over her back like it weighed nothing. I fought off another tidal
wave of coughs as we emerged from the warehouse, and onto the loading ramp outside.
Blue-and-red lights flared ahead of us.

Chapter 18
An ambulance stood at the top of the ramp and backed up to us. Its doors swung open as we
approached.
My hand went to the gun at my back out of sheer reflex, but Giselle caught my arm and ushered
me forward. I blinked away the tears and muck in my eyes, and saw a broad-shouldered giant with
tattoos in the back of the van. He flashed his teeth at me, caught hold of my arm, and strong-armed me
into the vehicle.
I wound up on a bench beside the wall as I hacked up half a lung and finally managed to wipe
my eyes. Giselle took a seat across from me, while Chuck slammed the doors shut and thumped the
roof twice. The ambulance hauled ass out of the loading zone.
I waited until the assault on my lungs passed, pulled off the sweaty balaclava, and rested my
back against the wall of the ambulance. I dragged in lungfuls of clean, fresh air. Giselle pulled off her
own mask a moment later.
 She shook her strawberry-blonde hair free of its ponytail, grinned at me, and glanced up at
Chuck. The huge merc had a grin that threatened to split his face open, and he nudged the tank-busting
rifle with a foot.
"You didn't strike me as the souvenir type of guy," he said.
"Present for Billy," I managed. "Thought he'd appreciate it."
"Scourge is down?"
"Permanently. And if the cops go looking through that warehouse, Pinnace is going to have
some explaining to do." I sucked in another breath, and a grin stretched across my features. "Mission
accomplished. Dead super, building in flames, Pinnacle mildly inconvenienced."
"Mildly?" Giselle asked.
"I think we just took out their backups," I said. "Their contingency if their bases lose power." I
cleared my throat and met Chuck's eyes. "They were experimenting on people in there. Giving them
electric powers and draining them like living batteries."
Chuck's eyes widened. "You're sure?"
"Positive," Giselle said. "They weren't normal supers."
"Any information? Anything you could pull out of there?"
Giselle shook her head. "It was a shit-show. Whole place was on fire, and all their computers
were locked in. I didn't have the time to break in, even if I'd wanted to."
"Still," Chuck said. "I thought you were both goners, for sure."
"Doubt it." I laughed. "Where we headed?"
"Back to Billy's. Gwen's meeting us there." Chuck settled down on the bench beside Giselle and
shook his head to himself. "Holy fuck, you actually did it."
"Wait, Billy lives in that storage unit?" Giselle asked.
"You seen the prices in Empyrion?" Billy called, from the driver's seat.
"Probably gone up, after our visit," I said.
The guy actually laughed, and I took a moment to just breathe. The crazy adrenaline dump
subsided into shakes, a raging libido, and clawing hunger. I'd been in crazy situations before, but the
warehouse had taken the cake.
Unhinged superhumans, a half-decent opposition, and Scourge's cannon had turned the entire
situation into a clusterfuck of biblical proportions. I'd chosen well with the Barrier ability, but the last
few minutes had been the hairiest.
I'd need to make better plans from here on out, ones that took my resources into better account.
The Basement would provide me with more options, and hopefully, a better insight into what the real
mission my dad had in store for me.
The ambulance pulled to a halt a few minutes later, and Chuck swung the back doors open for
us. Giselle scooped up the huge gun at our feet, slung it over her shoulder easily enough, and hopped
out of the van with the feline grace I'd come to expect from her.
I got out after her, and did a quick check of my equipment. I still had the handcannon in its
holster, and the stolen sidearm from the loading bay's rent-a-cop. My clothes were burned and twisted,
and half of my shoulder and a good chunk of my chest ached like one big bruise.
Chuck waved us through to the Basement's secret hideout. The rolling door slid up, and a new
face appeared behind it.
He was a thick nugget of a guy with blonde hair, blue eyes, and fiercely intelligent eyes that
betrayed nothing.
"Javier?" I guessed.
He tilted his head at that. "Not sure we know each other."
 "Fairly certain you were the wheelman when Bullrush wanted to turn me into a traffic statistic,"
I said. "I heard Billy mention your name."
"Huh," Javier said. "You don't miss much, do you?"
"Helps me dodge bullets, most of the time."
Javier's eyes came to rest on my vest with a raised eyebrow. "Might need to open your eyes a
little more, bud. The two of you look like you've been in and out of a blender."
"More like a toaster," Giselle said. "The shower better be free."
The Basement's wheelman stepped aside, and we ducked under the rolling door. I glanced
behind us, but both Chuck and Billy were busy with the fake ambulance. They rolled the markings off
the side of it as Javier closed the door down behind us.
I scanned the storage unit for familiar faces and found Gwen at the poker table. A disassembled
pistol lay in pieces around her, and she glanced up from her cleaning ritual as we stepped into her little
base of operations.
"I'm impressed," she said, without any preamble.
"Could've gone smoother," I said with a shrug. "But we made it."
Giselle unslung the massive gun from her shoulder, dropped it on the table in front of Gwen
with a smirk, and made a beeline for the half-hidden bathroom at the back of the storage unit.
I pulled out a chair at the table and sat down while Gwen stared at our trophy in complete
astonishment. She ran her fingers over the rifle's housing, unclipped the magazine, and pulled out one
of the economy soda-can-sized rounds with deft fingers. She sat it down on the table beside her and
tore her gaze away from the weapon to meet my eye.
"Where'd you get this?"
"Scourge," I said. "He liked his toys."
"This is overkill, even for him."
"I'm starting to get the feeling that Pinnacle doesn't care much about expenditure when it comes
to their people," I said. "Scourge struck me as a wetworks guy. And he loved his job."
"Past tense," Gwen noted. "You took him out?"
"And picked up his powers, with a side order of fries," I said.
I took the revolver from the holster on my hip, set it down on the table beside the massive anti-
materiel rifle, and sat back in my chair. I couldn't quite hide my smug smirk, though.
Gwen smiled. Her whole face lit up when she did, and her blue eyes sparkled merrily as she
took stock of me, in all my burned, smoked, and battered glory. It was a remarkable contrast to her
attitude toward us at the cafe that morning, and my gut did twisting things as our eyes met and we
gazed at each other for a moment.
"What'd you find?" Giselle asked finally.
"First off, it wasn't half as important as you thought it was," I told her soberly. "The place was
manufacturing batteries of bio-electricity and shipping them out. Don't know where. I'd have to
assume Pinnacle's own sites, as backups--"
"Bio-electricity?" Gwen cut in.
"supers. Held up on these big siphons that sucked lightning out of them and into the batteries
proper." I leaned forward on the table with a shake of my head. "I think they're making them, Gwen.
They were manufacturing their own supers, experimenting on the homeless that came through the
Outreach Center."
Gwen let out her breath in a hiss. "You're sure?"
"It's a working theory," I said. "You gonna tell me it's impossible?"
"I would've said so," she acknowledged. "But then, I've never heard of anyone who can drain
supers and give their powers to other people, either. All the information we've heard indicates that
Pinnacle's members are born with their powers. They manifest in early childhood, and the organization
scoops up as many as they can to 'prevent' them from being supervillains."
"That's what the media tells us, anyway."
"Point," Gwen nodded. "Did you drain any of the lightning-rods?"
"I couldn't," I said. "Not from a lack of trying, either. Something about them was off. They
weren't all juggernauts. Regular bullets put them down just fine. Which is what has me thinking that
they're new, or at least, not the same as Pinnacle's stable of underwear models."
Gwen took it in with a nod. "I'll see how well it matches up with what we have so far. On the
upside, the Outreach Center is history. Billy and Chuck said there was a battalion of cops headed
down to check it out, and I wouldn't be surprised if Pinnacle sends in their own cleanup crew to make
it look pretty for the camera."
"You're going to take credit for it?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Depends. It's an inherently weird game to play, with the journalists. Normally
we wait for whatever Pinnacle feeds them. If they say it was a random supervillain attack, then we can
slide under the radar and keep fighting the information war. If they blame us, or we take credit for it,
then Pinnacle's image takes a hit, and that'll make it harder to move around for a few weeks." Gwen
made a face. "We stay a step ahead of them, but they sure as shit don't make it easy for us."
"So you're going to take us seriously now?" I asked.
She smiled again, sending my gut into another gymnastic routine. "Oh, definitely."
The roller door slid up. A moment later, the three mercs entered the storage unit. Chuck and
Billy stripped out of their EMT disguises without a fuss, and Javier took up a seat at the command
console of Billy's Big-Brother set-up. Billy slipped on a shirt, and his eyes fell on the massive gun
between Gwen and me.
"Where the hell did you get that?"
"Scourge. Bit overkill for babysitting, though, right?"
Billy stepped over the table and glanced a silent question at Gwen. She nodded, and he lifted
the massive gun off the felt surface and hauled it over to Javier. The two of them clustered around it
and started speaking quietly to each other.
Chuck slammed a glass bottle down on the table between Gwen and me. It was a plain,
unmarked whisky bottle, its amber liquid catching the fluorescent lights above us. He placed down a
couple of glasses beside it and clapped my shoulder. I winced at the impact on my bruises and started
to unstrap the vest. I'd half-forgotten I was wearing the damn thing.
Gwen poured out three glasses of rich liquor and nudged one over to me with a grin. "It's
Chuck's home-distilled recipe," she said. "Potent stuff."
I dropped the vest onto the chair, rolled my shoulders to loosen them up, and scooped up the
glass. I'd had my fair share of paint-strippers before, but this stuff smelled amazing. Smoky with a hint
of cherry. I placed it down beside the bottle, leaned back in my chair again, and nodded toward the
bathroom.
"I'll wait for Giselle," I said.
"Good girl, that one," Chuck said, approvingly. "Where'd you meet her?"
"She met me," I said. "Running up on an old errand from my dad."
Gwen decided to join me in my wait for Giselle and set her glass down. A thoughtful expression
crossed her features. She glanced back at the bathroom for a moment, pursed her lips, and turned back
to me with a question.
"How exactly did you transfer your powers to her?" Gwen asked.
 "Not sure," I said, "but I'm pretty sure she caught it after we, uh, mingled."
"Mingled, huh?"
"Use your imagination," I said. "It's all pretty new to me. Why do you ask?"
"Wondering how it happened," Gwen said. "And if you can replicate it."
I raised an eyebrow. "You in the market for some superpowers, too?"
"I might be," she said, with an innocent smile. "So, what was Scourge using all this time? I'd
have thought it was invisibility, like Darkstalker."
"Accuracy?" Chuck suggested from his spot amongst the shelves.
"Got it there," I said. "But I'm not sure whether that one worked all that well because he didn't
manage a good hit on me or Giselle. I'm guessing he didn't actually want to take us down because he
was too curious about who the fuck we were. But yeah, Accuracy is one power. The other two are
Refill Container and Darkvision. I never saw him reload, and he was dumping rounds like a minigun
out of a PDW. My guess? He didn't have to reload, because he had an unlimited supply of ammo."
Gwen's eyes swept to Javier and Billy, clustered around Scourge's cannon.
"He didn't have to reload that?" she asked, stunned.
"He wasn't carrying extra mags. Just more guns. If you can refill containers, for free, why
would you bother with ammo reserves?"
Giselle appeared from the shower. Her strawberry-blonde hair was damp, and she'd changed out
of the vest and tight-fitting clothes, back into her hipster get-up from earlier in the day. Her skin
almost glowed in the warm light, and her eyes zeroed in on the drinks between Gwen and me with
interest.
"This a private party?" Giselle teased.
"Waiting for you so we can get it started," Gwen assured her.
Giselle pulled up the chair beside me, seized a glass, and held it up. "Well, let's not keep
everyone waiting any longer. Here's to the continued survival of the glorious Basement. Long may
you skulk in the shadows, with superheroes breathing down your necks."
I raised my glass up to hers. "Here's to another dead super, Pinnacle property damage, and
another dastardly plan foiled."
Gwen raised her own glass and clinked it against ours. "Welcome to the Basement, you two. I
know we got off to a rocky start, but I'm looking forward to working with you in earnest."
And with that, I was a step closer to completing my Story Quest.

Chapter 19
We'd become official members of the Basement, but my mission was far from over.
Giselle's eyes lingered on me after the cheers. We all took a pull from our glasses. Rich, tasty
whisky burned its way down my throat and washed away the taste of factory chemicals. A warm
sphere of heat formed in my chest from the liquor.
I let out an appreciative sigh and glanced up at Chuck. He watched us with a grin.
"I think I'll need a barrel," I said.
"Make it two," Giselle added. "It's amazing. Where do you get the time?"
"I make time," Chuck said. "It's how we recruit new blood around here."
"Give this to a couple of the supers, and I think they might change their colors." I laughed. I
took another sip and appreciated the flavorsome burn as I turned my attention back to Gwen. "So, do
we get costumes and everything? Now that we're working with the good guys?"
"I wouldn't call us 'good' by any stretch of the imagination," Gwen said. "And no."
 "Shame," Giselle murmured. "Dean would look great in a cape."
"Right up until some fuck sets it on fire. Or chokes me with it."
Gwen chuckled merrily at that. "You get what you're given. We blend in as much as we can, and
until you showed up, we were managing to keep a low profile quite well. You threw a massive wrench
straight into that." Gwen tossed back more whiskey with gusto. "But now Pinnacle has three less
supers, a hole in their operation, and a lot of ground to cover if they want to continue looking like
they've got everything under control."
"Question on that," Giselle said with a frown. "How do they manage it, exactly? I know that
they've probably got their own media people, and given how cozy they are with Empyrion PD, I
wouldn't be surprised if the police overlook things from time to time. But how the hell are they going
to cover up a clusterfuck this big?"
"Money, connections, and manipulating the narrative," Gwen said. "But it only gets them so far.
I can nudge a couple of journalists I know into getting IDs on the bodies in the warehouse. It'll put the
pressure on the bastards to explain what the hell was happening there, and that's good for us."
Giselle nodded, satisfied, and let her hand rest on my knee under the table. I noticed the
intensity of Gwen's gaze again, and suddenly felt a little like I'd been caught between two predatory
cats.
I quashed the thought in my mind and watched Gwen reassemble her pistol with quick, precise
movements.
"What's your next move?" I asked.
"We'll need to lay low," Gwen said. "This is more excitement than we're used to in a whole year,
and you made it happen in two days. Pinnacle and their people will be everywhere looking for us.
They'll stalk our pages, try and find out anything they can to pin us down."
"No new targets?" Giselle asked, crestfallen.
I gave her hand a squeeze and laughed. "You've been a fugitive for what, two days? Probably
lost your cushy job at SatSec. Now look at you. A true hardened badass criminal."
"It's the waiting that gets me," Giselle said. "I hate sitting idle."
Gwen considered that for a moment. "I'm sure I can find something for you."
Giselle's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"It'll depend. You might have superpowers, but that's no excuse for lacking training." Gwen
jerked a thumb at Chuck, behind her. "The man mountain and Billy could show you the ropes, if
Dean's not busy trying to tear Pinnacle a new one in the next couple of days."
I nodded. "It's a good idea."
"What kind of training? Kung fu?" Giselle asked. "Because these new powers have already
given me a knack for fighting. Feels like every part of me just works. . . better."
"That right?" Gwen said with a raise of her eyebrows. "In that case, I'm thinking more guns and
knives. And we'll have a good opportunity to test out your exact capabilities. See how strong you are,
what you can do with your powers. Once we've got a good idea of your baseline, we can prioritize
what we need to."
"You'll be around, right?" Giselle asked me.
"Count on it," I said. "I might have some things to follow up on, but I'll make sure that you don't
slap Billy around too much on the mats."
"Fuck you," Billy called out.
"Rather jump into a washing machine with bricks and razors," I fired back. "Probably be less
fucking sharp than you. You guys done jerking off over the metal dick over there?"
Javier pinned me with a glare, but Billy put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
 "He's always like this," Billy assured him.
"It's when I stop talking that you need to be worried," I said.
Javier grunted and turned back to the gun.
Chuck joined us at the table a moment later, poured himself out a glass, and dropped a deck of
cards and a pile of chips onto the table. Giselle's eyes lit up at the unspoken promise of poker, and
Gwen shot me a challenging look.
"How good is your game?" she asked.
"I'm not just a pretty face, sweetcheeks," I replied. "But I'd also hate to take you to the cleaner's.
Figure you guys need every cent you can get your hands on."
Gwen's eyes narrowed at my little jab, but a touch of color slipped into her cheeks.
"Just for that, I'm going to make sure you don't win. Giselle, you interested?"
"Only if there's another glass along with it," my partner-in-crime said.
"Coming right up," Chuck said, and poured her a fresh dose of his weapons-grade homemade
liquor. "Texas hold 'em, hundred buy-in. Billy, are you playing?"
"Busy," Billy said. "This thing's got a lot of moving parts, and I want her to speak to me. Javier
will sit in for me, though."
"Not a chance," Javier said with a grimace. "Can't play for shit."
"Get us started, Chuck," Gwen said, and emptied her glass.
I didn't exactly zone out as we played poker, but my heart wasn't in the game. I played patiently
and watched for obvious tells.
Gwen was a bully. She liked to intimidate people with raises, trying to eke out as much as she
could from each of us. Giselle played with a strange, chaotic style which made her hard to read. She'd
bet big on one hand, then durdle for other rounds where more was at stake. Chuck was a good middle
ground. He kept the game relatively honest, and was the first to drop out once we stripped him of his
chips. Giselle went out next, after Gwen called one of her bluffs, and that just left the leader of the
Basement and me.
Giselle poured out another two glasses, one for herself and one for Chuck, and eyed the bottle.
We'd worked through almost all of it. I had a good buzz going, Chuck barely seemed affected, and
Gwen's face was flushed from the booze. Giselle held her liquor incredibly well, something that I
chalked up to her Resilience power.
We moved through to our next hand.
"You didn't strike me as the patient type," Gwen observed.
"I can be patient," I assured her, "if the stakes are right."
I checked my hand, watched Chuck deal out the flop, and fixed my eyes on my opponent. Gwen
met my gaze with a coy little smirk, adding larger and larger bets. I matched her coolly without giving
her an inch of an idea what was in my hand.
We both went all-in as the river came out, and I won with a full house. Giselle grinned proudly
as I tucked the money into my pocket, finished off the last of my bourbon, and stood up to clear my
head.
"Not bad," Gwen admitted.
"Thought you'd be more careful for the leader of an underground resistance," I said.
"There's plenty in common with gambling," she countered. "It's all about risks. Just like the risk
I took on you two. That had every possibility of going sideways, but you pulled through." She smiled
at me again and turned to Chuck. "You in for another?"
Chuck raised his hands with a laugh. "I'm good."
"I'm going to get some air," I said, and moved out toward the roller door.
 Giselle joined me a second later, and we both slipped out into Empyrion's cool night air. The
storage sheds were empty of life, and a pleasant quiet had slid into the industrial yard. The occasional
vehicle hummed past.
I noted the three cars pulled up beside the storage unit, and thought back to my old man's sedan.
There was a connection between SilverSky and Pinnacle, and I needed to find out what it was. Giselle
bumped my shoulder with hers, pulled me out of my thoughts, and I turned to face her with a grin.
"Looks like you're immune to alcohol," I noted.
"Oh, I can feel it. But I think it'll take more than it normally does to lay me out." She stretched
with that catlike grace of hers. "Gwen on your mind?"
I noted the casual way she said it and raised an eyebrow. "Jealous?"
Giselle laughed. "She's been eyefucking you ever since you got here and started talking shit,
Dean. She's into you, no doubt about it. You tell her about the power transfer process?"
"Not all the details, but close enough."
"And I'm guessing she wants in?" Giselle asked.
I eyed her again, and my gut fluttered at how uninterested she seemed about the subject.
"That was the signal I was picking up, yeah."
"Well, you did tell her that you weren't going to work for her," Giselle reminded me. "She did
take a massive risk on the two of us, but that doesn't change the fact that we're exactly what she needs
right now. Well, you more than me."
"What are you suggesting, counselor?" I asked.
"You've got leverage. You needed to find the Basement, and now you've found it. Looks like
they've got the resources and the people that Brandon wanted you to find. If you're going to keep
playing this crazy game of following his messages around, it makes sense to make sure that Gwen
can't let you go." Giselle met my eyes with a vulpine smile. "She's cute, she's smart, and you guys
obviously have a thing for each other."
"So if she decides to take me back to her place, we're not going to have a problem?"
Giselle snorted. "Please. It's practical, and it's not like you're going to leave me behind. I'm your
first, after all, and last I checked, you're technologically handicapped. Gwen looks like she hasn't
gotten any in a while, either. If she gives you that opening, I'd take it."
"You are a devious person, Giselle."
"Smart," she countered with a smirk. "I know you guaranteed me a good night tonight, but I
think you'd be better off solidifying your position. Three of us with superpowers is better than two."
She nodded to the roller door. "Got enough air?"
I caught her arm, pulled her in close, and kissed her.
Giselle moaned softly into my mouth. The taste of whiskey, and the flavor that was just her,
washed through the kiss, and she slid her hands up over my chest to find my face. I don't know how
long the kiss went for, but when I eventually pulled away, Giselle's face was flushed, her eyes
sparkled, and she had a hungry glint in her eye.
"I might just have to reconsider my position." She giggled.
I raised an eyebrow. "That soon?"
"I'm kidding. Come on, let's get you shacked up with a terrorist."
She hauled the door back up, and we headed back into the secret lair. Billy and Javier had swept
the cards and chips off the table, and were elbows-deep in disassembling the huge cannon. Chuck
appeared from the shelves with a backpack and tossed it to me.
My reflexes snatched it from the air, and I unzipped it. Fresh clothes, underwear, and a smaller
bottle of his whiskey sat neatly packed inside. A box of 9mm sat in a side pocket, and I sidled over to
the table. I whipped out the stolen pistol, cleared the chamber, clicked the magazine out, and re-
stacked the mostly-empty magazine.
Gwen watched me with approval in her eyes, and I slid the gun back into the back of my pants.
Giselle met Chuck halfway and fought off a yawn.
"Been a long day," she said. "Who's a girl gotta stab to get a comfy bed around here?"
Chuck and Gwen exchanged a look, and the leader of the Basement stood up from the table.
She muttered a couple of quick instructions to the two mercs and pulled a set of keys out of her
pocket.
"We've got options. Chuck's place is as safe as any. You need a ride?"
Chuck glanced a question at me, and I winked at him and nodded to Gwen, behind her back.
The giant's eyes widened in sudden understanding, and a cheeky grin split his face.
Gwen glanced back at me, and a lot of unspoken questions flared up all at the same time. I kept
a cool smile on my face and looked back to Chuck.
"You'll look after her for me?"
"It'll be the other way around," Chuck assured me. "And yeah."
"Pretty confident of you to assume that I'll just take you back to mine," Gwen sniped.
I met her eyes with a smirk. "We've still got business to discuss."
A fresh blush hit her cheeks, courtesy of the booze, but she did her best to frown and look
irritated. I gestured for the keys, and she tossed them to me without argument. Javier and Billy didn't
look up from their work on the gun as I approached their table.
"How soon can you make some of those super-stoppers?" I asked.
Billy glanced up at me with a grimace. "I'm in the process of putting more of them together, but
it's tough to tell. Three days, four?"
I nodded. "They're hell on wheels. Couldn't have gotten away with what I have so far without
them. So I'd appreciate more of them, when you've got the time for it."
"I'll let you know," Billy promised. "Also, you should know something."
"Yeah?"
"If you so much as think about doing anything to Gwen, they won't find your body," he said,
with the perfect certainty of a man who knew how to deliver threats. "I don't care how good you are. I
don't care about the blonde. I'll take you apart like a fucking jigsaw puzzle."
I let the threat hang in the air for a long moment, and just looked at him.
"I don't need your protection, Billy," Gwen growled.
The lean, well-dressed merc stared me down without a hint of fear, and I couldn't help but grin
at him. Billy was a contentious prick, but he cared about his boss. That much was clear. And I found it
hard to dislike the guy, despite his demeanor.
"Roger that," I said. "Don't worry, I'll bring her back safe and sound."
"You'd better," Javier warned.
Gwen, Chuck, Giselle and I moved back to the roller door without any other parting death
threats, left the hidden base, and I hit the blipper on Gwen's key. A lean little hatchback flashed its
lights at me, and I took a moment to appreciate the car.
It was one of those newer sports hatchbacks, electric and probably smarter than I was. Giselle
and Chuck made a beeline for the ambulance. I tipped them both a salute as I opened the door for
Gwen.
"Have a good night!" Giselle called out, with a little sing-song to her voice.
I rolled my eyes. "See you bright and early tomorrow."
"Doubt it!" My partner laughed and jumped into the van-of-many-faces.
 Gwen's eyes flickered between me and the door I held open for her. "Do I look like the kind of
prick who needs a door held open for her?"
"I find it best not to assume." I chuckled. "After you, m'lady."
"I'm kinda tempted to drive, just to spite you."
"Seems childish, and beneath you."
Gwen eyed me for a moment, huffed a sigh, and got into the shotgun seat without any other
complaints.
I closed the door behind her, trekked around to the driver's side, and opened up the wonder-
mobile.
The interior was luxurious, to put it mildly. Black leather seats, all sleek panels with subtle
lighting, and no dashboard.
The car lit up as I sat down in the driver seat, and a HUD with all of the dials appeared on the
windscreen holographically. The pedals were still where they were supposed to be, and I was pretty
sure that the steering wheel did what it was supposed to, so I pressed a button on a screen that said
'start', and a subtle hum spread through the car.
No growl of a gasoline engine, no ticking over of the engine. The car warmed itself up like a
goddamn spaceship, and I eased it out of the parking lot. The hatchback lunged forward as I touched
the gas, and I grinned at the sheer oomph of the acceleration.
"Nice ride," I said finally.
"Gets me from A to B," Gwen agreed.
I pulled us out of the storage yard, found the road for the Industrial District, and my brain went
into autopilot. I'd driven countless cars before, and this one was no different. I kept my eyes on the
road and tried not to watch Gwen out of the corner of my eye.
She didn't have any such compunctions, and her gaze flickered over me as we slid past
streetlights and industrial complexes. I could practically smell the tension as it radiated off her, but I
did my best to ignore it, and act as naturally as possible.
"What are you doing here, Dean?" she finally asked.
"Driving you home," I quipped.
She growled a curse. "I mean in Empyrion, smart-ass. I spent most of today looking into you,
and Giselle. She wasn't hard to find, really. SatSec corporate type, known for being aggressive in her
negotiations and good with her team." Gwen shook her head to yourself. "But you're a ghost. Even
that picture that Pinnacle put up of you is a guess, at best. You're military, or something very close to
it, but there's no service record. You don't travel under a normal passport, and the best I managed to
scrounge up was that you were doing something with Thai gangs recently."
I raised an eyebrow at that. "Thought I was being subtle."
"You were, and that's the frustrating part," she muttered. "An international betting ring owned
and operated by a bunch of Australian millionaires, that mysteriously shut down from a 'lack of
interest' about six days ago. That's the only thing I could find."
"You've got a lot of reach, Gwen," I observed.
"Wanna tell me what it was really about?"
"Human trafficking ring," I said quietly. "Young girls."
Gwen stared at me, speechless, and gestured for me to go on.
"It's behind me now," I said. "I took issue with their business practices, and they took issue with
me. Couple of Thai boxers and some pretty enthusiastic prisoner types ambushed me in broad
daylight."
"And you're still here?"
 "Seems that way. I think once they lost their best gangbangers, and the authorities got involved,
the foreign investors decided that they were going to tap out and fold up business in the area. I didn't
stop them, not by a long shot. But I did slow them down, at least."
"I still don't get it. You don't have friends, or a team. You obviously know how to work in one,
because if you didn't, Chuck wouldn't be half as friendly as he is to you. You expect me to believe that
you just move from place to place as some kind of wetwork vigilante?"
"Sounds a lot more glamorous than it is." I chuckled. "I go to places, get beaten up, learn some
things, and move on. Nothing more exciting than that."
"But this is different," Gwen argued. "You made contact with us. Why?"
I briefly thought about lying to her, but it didn't feel right. Gwen hadn't been anything except
helpful to Giselle and I, in the short time we'd known each other, and I didn't want to jeopardize our
relationship before it even got started.
"My dad," I said. "Brandon Silver. He's the one who pulls my strings."
"The Silver?" Gwen asked, stunned. "SilverSky Industries' Brandon Silver?"
"That's him. He sets up my missions, and I follow them. He said to make contact with you, but,
as usual, he didn't mention that it more or less involved starting a war with Pinnacle." I drummed my
fingers on the steering wheel, turned the car out of the Industrial District, and glanced back at Gwen.
"Where are we headed?"
"Castillo," she said. "I've got a penthouse there. I'll give you directions once we're closer. And
don't try to distract me. Brandon Silver is one of the founding members of the Basement."
A huge surge of adrenaline almost threatened my position on the road. My knuckles whitened
around the wheel, and I let a long, slow breath roll through my teeth in a hiss.
Of course he hadn't mentioned it to me. That would have been too fucking easy.
I quashed my surge of irritation after a moment and ran through the implications.
My old man had never really mentioned anything about his work in Empyrion. All I knew was
that his company had folded, and that Pinnacle had been involved. But I'd run into crates bearing his
old company's branding in the warehouse, in between dodging grenades from Scourge and crazed
custom-built spark plugs.
"Dean?"
I snapped myself out of my reverie. "I didn't know he was backing you guys. How'd you meet
him? How did he set all of it up?"
"We were just a support group for super casualties, initially," Gwen said. "I started off in
community support, trying to get compensation for the civs who got caught in the crossfire. But we
couldn't do anything. There wasn't any company or government entity who was interested in stepping
on Pinnacle's toes."
"Except SilverSky?"
"Right. I never met Brandon, but he funneled through enough funding to get us off the ground,
and he had security hired for us. People like Chuck and Billy. They gave us the expertise we needed to
keep ourselves protected. Because Pinnacle had an issue with us, once we started taking them on in
the media."
"And you got branded as domestic terrorists," I said.
"Fits their worldview," Gwen growled. "Simple. Good guys vs bad guys."
"Can't really imagine you as a support worker," I observed. "You look like too much of a hard-
case. Tattoos, knife, fuck-with-me-and-die attitude. Hard to picture it."
"Sounds like a compliment, coming from you," Gwen countered.
I grinned. "I'm nowhere near as scary as you are."
 She snorted. "Bitch, please."
"So, you got the funding. Dear old dad made sure that you had the money you needed to take
the fight to Pinnacle." I frowned. "Did he say why? Was there an endgame?"
"Never mentioned it. The money appeared like magic, and he never said anything else to us
about it. We still get the occasional gift basket, and we can't trace where the money comes from."
Gwen gestured for me to turn left. "I figured you'd know more than me."
"Dad likes to keep his cards close to his chest. Always has. I'm still shooting in the dark myself.
But it can't be a coincidence that he told me to find you, that I developed powers the way I did, and
that we're all tied up in the same fight."
"Coincidence is for those who lack sufficient paranoia," Gwen agreed.
"I've got enough as is--I don't need you loading me up with your runoff."
Gwen smiled, and lit up the whole car with it. "There's enough paranoia running around here
that we could open up a store, with different flavors."
The car glided silently over the main arterial, and I pulled off into Castillo a few minutes later.
Gwen angled herself so she was facing me and tucked a foot under herself. She watched me as I
guided the car toward her place. Her blue eyes didn't budge from me for a second, and I couldn't help
but grin and open my mouth to break the subtle tension.
"I feel like you're trying to kill me with your gaze," I said.
"I get a feeling it'd take more than that," Gwen replied. "You strike me as someone who's pretty
hard to kill. I mean, if three supers couldn't get it done, what kind of chance do I have to make it
happen?"
"Sounds like a compliment, coming from you," I echoed.
"Might be," she said. "Right turn up here. Pull into the underground."
Callisto had opened up around us, and a massive residential high-rise sat on the right side. I
found the ramp into the underground parking, pulled into it, and watched the door slide smoothly open
as we approached. The parking lot wasn't anything special, but it was clean, neat, and I noted the other
expensive vehicles tucked into comfortable corners around us.
Gwen guided me to her own spot, and I switched the car off as I pulled it to a halt.
"Nice place," I commented. "How do you afford it?"
"Right investments in the right places," Gwen said with a wink.
"I call insider trading," I said and opened the door.
"It's amazing what you can pull off with Pinnacle's stock when your entire job is to make them
look bad."
My jaw dropped. "Wait, you have shares in the company?"
Gwen grinned. "They're the number one moneymaker in Empyrion."
I locked the car behind us and tossed her the keys. We made our way through the echoing
underground space toward an elevator. I tried to wrap my head around Gwen's personal income, and
couldn't help but laugh at the sheer audacity of it.
"So you're trying to tell me that you fund the Basement and live in a fucking penthouse by
trading Pinnacle stocks? You're fighting a war against them with their own money?"
"They've got plenty as is," Gwen said dismissively. "They won't miss it."
She slapped the 'call' button on the elevator, leaned against the wall beside it, and ran her eyes
over me again appreciatively. I barely restrained the urge to strike a pose, and instead returned her
gaze with interest.
Gwen still had the crop-top, the tattered jeans, and the ornate tattoos that whirled over her skin.
She was a walking piece of art, and I wondered silently just how extensive her tattoos were, and how
far over her body they stretched.
The elevator doors opened. I ushered her in first, and then stepped in afterward. The leader of
the Basement took up a position on the wall, away from any potential firing line when the doors
reopened, and pushed the button for the top floor.
"Penthouse with a view?" I asked.
"If you're going to live in luxury, might as well do it properly," Gwen said.
"What about Billy and the others? They just live out of storage units?"
She snorted. "No, they're pretty comfy. I'm sure you'll see their places soon enough." Gwen's
eyes combed over me again. "So, tell me how this transfer thing actually works."
"If I knew, I'd tell you. First time around was an accident. I'm not sure what'll happen if I try, or
even if I can replicate it. Anything I attempt will be a science experiment."
"Seems an awfully convoluted way to get me into bed," Gwen said slyly.
I picked up on her tone, smirked, and leaned back against the opposite wall.
"Well, I'm happy to make coffee and talk about tactics if you are," I said. "I can just try to hold
your hand and see if it has the same effect. Hell, might even be a faster way of doing things." A
thought hit me, and I grimaced. "Although I usually have to be in some kind of dedicated 'safe zone'."
Gwen frowned. "Safe zone?"
"Yeah. Billy's hideout was the first time I've seen it. Couldn't do it anywhere else. Unless my
own lock-ins for powers work differently from transferral." I noted Gwen's confused expression and
shrugged. "Guess we'll find out when we get there."
"My place is as safe as any," Gwen assured me. "Used to belong to a celebrity."
The doors slid open at the final floor, and Gwen led the way through an amazingly detailed
hallway. Old mahogany furniture lined the walls. Deep red-and-black carpet silenced our footsteps. An
honest-to-god chandelier hung over our heads to light up the space.
Gwen strolled past the luxury casually to a steel door at the other side of the hallway. It
resembled more of a bank vault than an actual apartment door. She pressed her finger against a
scanner, and a light flickered on above her head. Lasers danced over her tattooed form for a moment.
A smooth, whirring click echoed through the hallway. The steel door popped open.
Gwen pushed them open with visible effort and gestured for me to go in first.
"Mi casa es tu casa," she said, and I stepped into her penthouse.

Chapter 20
Gwen had taste.
Her penthouse was the most baller thing I'd ever seen outside of movies or TV. A huge lounge
stretched out before us, its far wall made completely of glass. The lights of Empyrion sparkled in the
distance, around an excellent view of Pinnacle's HQ building hovering in the sky.
An enormous sofa of black leather sprawled out in the center of the room, facing a TV screen
that was bigger than some walls I'd seen. A set of hyper-modern stairs to my right snaked up to a
bedroom and bathroom loft, and behind the enormous screen was a fully decked out kitchen.
It wouldn't surprise me if Gwen had a robot chef in this place, it looked so expensive.
Tattoo-inspired artwork hung from the walls, and tasteful rugs carpeted the floor in all the right
places to give the place color and life.
If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought that I'd stepped into a global CEO's
apartment, and not that of a woman who spent all of her time fighting Pinnacle with their own money.
Gwen flicked on the lights, and a soft, ambient glow filled the apartment from hidden light
sources. It wasn't bright, exactly, but it was definitely mood lighting, and a smirk crossed my face as
Gwen padded past me. She bent over to take off her boots.
Gwen had a fantastic ass. I had to give her that. Thick, muscular, and incredibly appealing, with
a strong pair of training-hardened thighs to match that her jeans did nothing but emphasize. She
unlaced her boots, left them neatly on a low shelf beside the door, and I crouched down to do the
same.
She strolled into the kitchen and out of sight. I took a quick moment to bring up my ability
window, while she raided the fridge.

Safe Zone Found!

Power Selection Enabled

Active Powers

Barrier

Stored Powers

Shadow Stealth

Lock Breach

Resilience

Barrier

Speedburst

Stamina

Refill Container

Darkvision

Accuracy

So Gwen hadn't been lying about the safety of her place. Between the elevated position,
reinforced door that was probably tank-proof, and the thick glass that passed for a window, it was as
safe as a penthouse can get. But I still had a gap in my knowledge about what constituted a safe zone
for switching my powers around.
 I tugged off one of my boots, swiped through to the power-transfer window, and changed
Barrier around to Stamina.
The words rearrange themselves on the status screen, and I noted the gradual change to my
energy levels. I'd been bruised and battered before, but the fatigue from the burst of exciting violence
earlier in the day had left me tired and slow. Now, a subtle vigor welled up inside me. It chased away
the tiredness and continued to build.
I kicked off my other shoe, left my boots comfortably nestled beside Gwen's, and straightened
up.
"You want another drink?" Gwen called from the kitchen.
"I'm good," I replied. "Had plenty of Chuck's homebrew."
"Suit yourself," she said, and appeared with a can of bourbon.
She sauntered over to the couch, with a little extra swing in her hips, and vaulted over the back
of the couch. Gwen fell back into the comfortable black leather with a contented sigh, pulled her legs
under her, and gestured for me to sit down.
I strolled around the edge of the couch and settled down within arm's reach of her with a grin.
We sized each other up for a moment, and Gwen cracked open her drink.
"So, this power transfer thing," she said casually.
I chuckled at her tone. "Should we start by holding hands?"
"Can't hurt," Gwen said, and reached over to me.
Her fingers touched mine, and a lightning-bolt of sensation rolled up my arm. It wasn't anything
superpowered, just the feel of her fingertips. Roughed from hard work, callused from hours of use of
weapons and equipment. But as mundane as it was, the touch was laden with unspoken anticipation.
I curled my fingers around hers and brought up my notification screen, but nothing had
changed. I stared at it, half-willing it to work, but the translucent readout of information just sat in the
air, static.
Gwen watched me with a smirk, swigged her bourbon, and waited.
My eyes drifted down to her tight, taught belly, rippled with muscle from workouts. A snaking
dragon tattoo circled around her hips, curved behind her jeans in a flash of blue and green ink, and
beckoned me to find out where it ended. My fingers ghosted up her hand, caressed another tattoo of
whirling birds, inked with breathtaking attention to detail.
Gwen's breath caught in her throat for a moment as my fingers curled around her wrist, and my
smirk widened as I studied the art on her skin.
"Must've taken you years to get all of these done," I observed quietly.
"It's pretty consistent work, yeah," Gwen replied, her voice low.
"Why?" I asked. "I mean, more power to you. They're amazing. But doesn't it make you stand
out in a crowd? Pretty easy to ID you if you're running from a super or some kind of clusterfuck in the
field."
"I don't get involved, usually. We're not in the habit of attracting attention like you, big guy. Our
whole operation was under wraps until you showed up and flushed us out into the open."
I lifted her hand to my lips, and kissed one of her knuckles. Gwen's face flushed, a combination
of the alcohol and something else. Slowly, softly, I worked my way over each of her knuckles in turn.
Her fingers tightened in mine as I turned her hand over, pressed my mouth against the inside of her
wrist, and let my teeth dig into her skin a little.
"Enjoying the taste?" Gwen asked. Her tone tried to stay flippant, but her voice was too low, too
raw for that.
I nodded, kissing my way further up her arm, to the inside of her elbow. She inhaled sharply as I
bit her again, carefully, gently. She leaned back, dropped her drink onto the wide coffee table of glass,
and returned as I made my way up her bicep and to her shoulder.
Her free hand found my face, and she dug her fingers into my cheek with a purring growl. I
lifted my lips from her shoulder and locked eyes with her. A bright, almost predatory hunger settled
into her gaze, and she pulled me closer to her with a surprisingly amount of strength for a smaller
frame.
Our lips met, and time turned to honey around us.
Gwen wasn't gentle about it. Her mouth devoured mine, hungrily, and her teeth stung my lip as
she bit down into it with a moan. I gave it right back to her, every nibble, every lick, every hungry
bite.
My hands found her shoulders, dug into all the strong, wiry muscle there, and I pushed her back
away from me after a long, deep kiss.
Gwen caught a handful of my shirt and pounced onto me like a hungry tigress. Her hips crashed
into my guts, pinned me back against the sofa, and kissed me again. Gwen's fingers hooked into the
hem of my shirt, and she tore it over my head with a swift tug. She drove herself against my chest,
grinding her hips into my lap, aggressively. Her teeth sank into my shoulder.
A cascade of pain and pleasure rocketed down through my body. Instinct had me catch a
handful of her hair and pull her head away from me. Gwen moaned at the sudden jerk on her head,
and a crazy grin slid over her features, lighting up dimples I hadn't even known were there.
"That's more like it," she breathed.
She ground her hips into me, harder, faster. I grabbed her ass with my free hand, my fingers
sinking deep through her tight jeans. Gwen's mouth fell open in a loud, hungry moan, and her nails
dug into my bare chest, pushing all my buttons just right.
I released her hair, caught hold of her tank top, and tore it up over her head. Gwen's breasts
spilled out from under it, bare, and she kissed me again in a rush of ravenous lips.
Her rhythm in my lap grew harder, more desperate, and growling moans slid out of her throat in
pulsing waves. Sheer, primal desire sparked up in my blood, and I twisted my hips to toss her back.
But Gwen kept her balance, so I trapped her arm and rolled her over onto her back with a quick twist.
She got an arm under her as I hauled myself up off the couch, and launched into me. I couldn't
turn fast enough to stop her momentum, and my legs crashed into the coffee table. We both went over
it in a tangle of arms and legs, hit the carpet, and Gwen wound up on top in mount.
She caught hold of my throat with both hands and kissed me again with abandon. I savored her
mouth, her tongue, the warmth and mad heat of her lips, and then broke her grip with a spearing twist
of my arm.
She adapted, pressed her bare chest against mine, and got her teeth into my neck.
Part of my hindbrain wondered whether or not this was a fight or a fuck, but I quashed it and
brought my palm down on Gwen's ass with a loud fleshy smack. She yelped at the contact.
Seizing the opening, I hooked my ankle around her calf. Gwen didn't even notice as she ground
her crotch into my abs, faster and faster. I swept her onto her back with a rapid torque of my hips. I
seized her wrists in a tight grip, pinned them up above her head, and paused to look at Gwen.
A hot, horny mess glared up at me.
Her breasts rose and fell with each breath she took, perfect handfuls of skin and hard nipples,
adorned with countless lines of ink. Dragons circled up over her chest and down her sides in blues,
greens, and reds. Each scale of each death-lizard was rendered in excruciating detail, and I stared
down at her with a mixture of awe and raw lust.
Gwen bucked her hips up into me in a silent demand for more, but I just held her down and
smiled at her frustration, enjoying the sight of her struggle.
"Fuck me," she growled.
"When I get around to it," I replied.
She strained up against my hands, but I had the edge in weight and strength, and she couldn't
have broken free, even with a good set of techniques. I released one of her hands, and Gwen's hand
instantly snaked up to catch hold of my neck. She dragged me down to kiss her, and I went willingly.
Hips shifted under me as she growled into the kiss that made my mouth buzz. She snaked her
legs out, hooked my own ankle, but I was wise to the trick and shot out a supporting arm to stop her
from sweeping me onto my back.
We struggled for a moment as we made out, tongues dancing around each other, until I relented
and released her other hand. A victorious gleam in her eye, Gwen twisted under me again, but I swept
a leg over her body, caught her in an armbar, and held her there for a long moment with plenty of
pressure on her elbow.
"You going to calm down a little?" I asked, my voice rough.
"Not a fucking chance," Gwen snarled.
I released my pressure on her elbow, shot over my shoulder in a backward roll, and wound up in
a crouch with my back to the window of the penthouse. Gwen scrambled back to her feet a second
later and launched herself at me.
My hands found her ass, catching her in mid-air. I whirled around and pressed her against the
smooth glass behind me. Her legs clamped around my waist for a second, but then she released her
hold, dropped back to her feet, and attacked my belt without so much as a blink.
My hands found the waistband of her jeans, and I unbuttoned them with a quick flick of my
thumb. Gwen yanked my pants down around my hips, took my briefs with them, and ripped them all
the way down to my ankles. I kicked them off without a second thought, caught one of her arms, and
twisted it into a shoulder lock.
Gwen's moan echoed through the apartment as I rotated her around and squashed her face
against the glass. I used my free hand to yank down her jeans and panties, and paused again.
"Do it," Gwen panted. "Do it fucking now."
I slid the head of my shaft against her warm, tight pussy, and she gasped at the sensation of it.
She pressed herself harder into the window, shoved her hips back desperately, and took me into her
with one, smooth stroke.
The sheer tightness and wetness of her womanhood engulfed my head in a storm of pleasure
and sensation, and I smacked her ass with my free hand. Gwen moaned at that, jiggled her hips, and
drove her ass back against my hips. Her legs trembled, a shiver rolled through her body, and she didn't
seem to care about the pressure I had on her shoulder.
Or maybe she did. Maybe she liked it.
I drove into her like I meant to break her hips, and Gwen's scream of pleasure lit up the
penthouse like a call to arms. Her free hand found the glass. Her fingers curled against the flat surface.
Her panting breaths just begged for more.
I set myself into a steady, hard rhythm, and Gwen's spine arched into a perfect bow as she took
me in from behind.
Her ass, reddened from my earlier attack, crashed into my hips, over and over again. Her
tightness smoothed out into slick wetness after a few seconds, and I fucked her from behind with the
best city view I'd ever had laid out before me.
She swore, she cursed, and she moaned like some kind of tortured animal, but Gwen never
stopped to ask for mercy.
 Steadily, my hardness climbed toward pleasure. As it did, I started feeling it, the tell-tale signs
of little orgams muscles tightening inside a woman. Seconds later, she came. Gwen's sex squeezed
around my cock in a series of spasming contractions, her knees shook under her, and she came in a
burst of warmth and sound.
"Fuck!" she screamed.
I pulled out of her before I could explode, and released my grip on her arm.
With a sweaty squeak of breasts on glass, Gwen slid down the window and let out a trembling
moan. Her jeans and panties tangled up her knees, and she twisted to face me as her bare ass hit the
floor. Orgasmic aftershocks shivered through her body in a series of twitching moans, and Gwen
closed her eyes to enjoy the waves of bliss.
"I could get used to this," she murmured.
Gwen cracked an eye open, glanced up at my hips with a smirk, and then her baby blues found
my gaze with a new, intense hunger. She slid out of her pants with quick, precise motions, and got
back to her feet in all of her naked glory.
Tattoos whirled over her body, so tightly wound and intricate that they resembled clothes all on
their own. Dragons, birds, and angels colored in black, red, blue, and green stretched around her skin,
and my breath caught in my throat as she pushed off from the window with shaking strides.
Gwen attacked me again in a rush of grasping hands and her hot, sweet mouth, and I lost track
of where we were for a moment. She drove me out of the lounge room and into the kitchen. I lifted her
up onto the wide, futuristic counter, and she lifted her legs up until they were over my shoulders. Her
hands found my hips, pulled me back into her, and this time, I didn't hesitate.
I plunged into her tight, wet slit again, and she dropped back against the splashback tiles with a
rippling moan of pleasure. I filled her, took her, slammed into her with everything I had. The back of
my mind did cartwheels as I pounded Gwen into submission.
My newly-selected Stamina power took the edge off the cardio, and my body brimmed with
energy. I could have done this all night, and Gwen hadn't slowed down for an instant.
Her nails clawed at my chest as I fucked her. They bit hard enough to leave long, raw scratches
on my skin, and a minute or two later, she arched her back into another shivering, screaming orgasm.
I was close, so close, but I had no intention of letting myself finish.
Not until she begged for mercy.
Details became fuzzy after a while. I don't know how long we were at it for, but Gwen's stamina
finally gave out when we stumbled upstairs, and I dropped her into her bed. She gasped as I pried her
sticky thighs apart, slid my cock into her again, and fucked her until another orgasm ripped its way
through her body and left her a shivering mess.
I pulled out of her at the last second, but she didn't let me escape.
Her hand found my shaft, her eyes locked on mine, and she stroked me as fast as she could over
her naked, tattooed body. A snarl rolled out of my chest at the sudden stimulation, and Gwen's eyes
twinkled as she gripped tighter, pulled harder.
"Come on, big guy," she murmured. "You've earned it. I need this, I need you to--"
She didn't have to say anything more than that. I spread my seed all over her breasts, and stayed
on all fours over her, staring down into her gaze.
Gwen's catlike smirk widened until it split her whole face, and I finally relented. I dropped into
the wide, cloud-like mattress beside her, let a deep sigh of contentment roll out of my chest, and laced
my arms behind my head.
The sheer intensity of the release played pinball with my nervous system for a while, and a zen-
like calm rolled in after it.
 My thoughts slipped to the power transfer after a second, and I brought up my status screen
with a simple thought. A fresh thrill of excitement rolled in as I saw a new layout, something
completely different from what I'd seen with Giselle.

Imprint Pending

Select Powers to Transfer:

Shadow Stealth

Lock Breach

Resilience

Barrier

Speedburst

Stamina

Refill Container

Darkvision

Accuracy

"Gwen?" I said.
"Mm?" she murmured.
"I've got a list of powers here, ready to transfer. What do you want?"

Chapter 21
Gwen lifted her head, her eyes suddenly sparkling with excitement. "What do you have?"
I rattled them off quickly, and her jaw dropped a little more open with each one. She dropped
her head back onto the pillow, stared up at the ceiling, and didn't speak for a long moment. I could
almost hear the wheels in her mind spinning at the possibilities.
Gwen finally spoke up, her voice thoughtful. "Before I go locking anything in, what do you
think I should take?"
"There's a lot here," I admitted. "And from what happened with Giselle, I'm guessing you can
take three. I haven't seen you in the field before, but I'd guess you're the kind of person who likes to
fight at a range."
She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Come on, you're tiny," I teased.
 Gwen dropped an elbow into my bicep, found a nerve cluster, and I flinched as my arm went
numb. "Get to the point, genius. What do you think I should do?"
I shrugged. "Scourge's power-set is a nasty one. It'd be perfect for a sniper or a heavy gunner,
someone who believes in superior firepower at range. Giselle's a lot better suited for close-up work,
but she needs training in that. So, maybe take a modified version of Scourge's abilities?"
"Refill Container, Accuracy, and Resilience?"
I grinned. "Got it in one. Scourge kicked Giselle off a seven-foot drop onto concrete, and she
bounced back like a rubber ball. If you can't run out of ammo, that makes you a walking pile of
ordnance. And if you're finding it had to miss--"
"Do it," Gwen said. "Resilience has an extra layer to it, too."
"Confirm power transfer," I said, aloud, and the screen in my vision shifted.

Imprint Complete

Resilience

Refill Container

Accuracy

Gwen blinked, and she glanced down over herself. Nothing had visibly changed. But Giselle
hadn't noticed that she'd been implanted with abilities until the next morning. Maybe they took some
time to kick in.
I glanced around us, spotted a knife on her bedside table, and rolled toward it. Gwen caught the
switchblade with a raised eyebrow, and I cast my gaze around for a good target. She caught my idea,
straightened up, and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She opened the knife with the press of a
button and sent it end-over-end at her desk.
The blade sank point-first into a tin of pens, knocked it over, and scattered them everywhere.
Gwen stared at her target, then at me, and then at her outstretched hand.
"Well, fuck," she said quietly. "That's really something."
"We'll have to get you a gun tomorrow," I said. "Put you through your paces."
"Sounds good to me," Gwen said, and dropped back into bed with a sigh.
I stretched out my muscles. I still felt wired, but Gwen's Resilience probably hadn't yet kicked
in enough for a round two.
She passed out beside me with a sleepy murmur goodnight, and I spent a while just watching
her.
There was a lot to love about her. She was tough as hell, trained, cute as anything, and an
absolute animal in bed. Gwen had resources that I could only dream of, and now we were working as
a team.
Form a Party, Find the Basement.
Well, I'd done both. I had the mercs, two gorgeous women with superpowers on my side, and a
large floating target in the sky.
Giselle had information on fresh supers to track down, and with any luck, I could add new
powers to my rapidly-expanding pool of abilities. I dropped my head back down on the pillow, let
sleep slide in, and drifted off into dreamland.
 ***

I woke up early the next morning. Light streamed in through Gwen's windows, lighting up the
whole apartment with a golden hue. The pretty picture was dashed when my gut snarled at me for
food. Gwen was still asleep, her breast rising and falling with each breath.
As quietly as I could manage, I slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs to find my pants.
I got half-dressed and strolled into the sleek, hyper-modern kitchen in search of coffee. The fridge and
pantry were all embedded in the walls without handles, but a gentle touch slid them open with a
smooth, automatic click.
I found a jar of beans and dug through the cupboards until I sourced a grinder and a couple of
mugs. By the time I got the kettle boiling, I heard the shower start upstairs.
I smiled to myself as memories of last night cascaded through my head. While the kettle boiled,
I gathered up the clothes and spilled drink from last night's romp.
Bruises had settled in earnest on my shoulders, vicious hickeys of purple and red, but I simply
accepted that as the cost of doing business with Gwen. I poured out a french-press style decanter of
coffee, set it down next to the sofa, and waited for Gwen to emerge from the shower. She did a minute
or two later, wrapped in a towel and nothing else, and she sauntered down the stairs with an extra skip
in her step.
"How'd you pull up?" I asked.
"Fine," Gwen snorted. "You'd have to go harder than that to make me sore."
I frowned. "Pretty sure you tapped out first."
Gwen's eyebrows lifted at that, and she looked down at herself. "Huh."
"Any way to get news in here?" I asked.
"Easy enough. TV, news channels. Keep it brief."
The huge screen before us lit up in four distinct quarters, all from different news channels. One
of them was Pinnacle-owned, and it displayed the wreckage of the Outreach Center from the sky.
Smoke clouded out of it as fire trucks poured water onto it. The police had cordoned off the
street. I observed the wreckage with a grin, but Gwen frowned as a stunning blonde in a super
costume hovered into frame beside the camera.
Air rushed around her miniskirt and threatened to flash the entire world, but there must have
been some magic that kept it down just enough to stay PG-safe. Gwen made a gesture, and the
Pinnacle news channel took over the entire wall-sized TV.
"--and as you can see here, from the sky, the Basement and their supervillain friends attacked
one of our outreach programs," she said, in an adorable British accent.
"Phenomenon," Giselle growled. "Queen bitch of Pinnacle."
I stared at the screen intently. "Powers?"
"Elemental shit. Air, fire, water, earth."
"This is just another disgusting display of an underground terrorist network and their hatred of
the people of Empyrion," Phenomenon continued. "We're working tirelessly to find the perpetrators of
such a heinous act. Pinnacle personnel were casualties in the event. Jobs were lost, and some of the
poor and disaffected of Empyrion died in the attack."
Another voice, weedy and male, came out from behind the camera.
"What are you going to do about it, Phenom?"
"We're petitioning the mayor to allow us a week of curfew," the superhero continued. She stared
right into the camera with ice-blue eyes. "Whoever did this, we'll find you, and we'll bring you to
justice. That's a guarantee from all of us. You'll pay for what you've done to the people of this city."
Phenomenon swept out of frame in a flash of amazing legs, blue and red.
Gwen made a sound like she was about to throw up, and I depressed the plunger and poured out
a couple of cups of coffee. She accepted hers with a murmur of thanks, curled her legs up under her on
the couch, and shook her head.
"This is what we're fighting against," Gwen said, disgusted. "Fucking hypocrites."
I watched the camera angle itself back down to the wreckage below again.
"A curfew?"
"This is new, even for them. People will roll over for it, of course. Helps them feel safe.
Although I'd guess that the EPD is gonna be pissed. They'll have to pay everyone overtime."
"Could be an advantage in it," I said thoughtfully.
"What kind? They're going to be looking everywhere for you. Even if they don't have your face,
they'll have an idea of your build, and Giselle's. Every camera and every supercomputer in the city
will be turning numbers over trying to pinpoint you."
I grinned. "Yeah, they will. Which means they'll leave openings."
Gwen glared at me. "You're going to use yourself as bait?"
"That's not on the top of the priority list, but it could be useful if we need to head out into the
field again, is all I'm saying." I sipped coffee, studied the screen again, and thought through the
implications of a curfew in Empyrion. "Could you win points on this? Online, I mean? There'll be
plenty of people who are pissed about being locked inside at night."
"So far as most people are concerned, we bombed out a homeless shelter and killed a bunch of
Pinnacle's people. If we deny involvement, we're liars. If we say it was us, we line up with their
narrative and lose face." Gwen shook her head. "It's a dicey situation either way."
"Worth a try," I hedged. "Get the conversation going, at least."
"I'll look into it. What's your next move?"
"Head to Chuck's place, I think. Best if we all put our heads together. Giselle's the one with the
information on a fresh pack of supers. If we're going to go hunting for new powers, that's a good place
to start." I grinned. "They might have a better idea of what Pinnacle is planning. And supers tend to
freak out when they realize they're just as mortal as the rest of us. Might be an idea to shake them
down for information, see what leverage we can get on them."
Gwen nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a solid plan. Hit the shower, big guy. I'll get us
warmed up for the trip over."
I nodded, slugged back the rest of the excellent coffee, and wandered upstairs into Gwen's
luxurious bathroom for a long, broiling-hot shower. My mind raced over the options before me as I
scrubbed yesterday's dirt and muck from my skin, and I switched my active power back over to
Resilience as I went.
The Barrier ability had been excellent in the battle against Scourge, and Stamina had been
nothing but superb when I was busy with Gwen, but you couldn't beat increased durability as a
standalone between ops. I moseyed my way back downstairs and found Gwen fully-dressed, with her
keys in her hand.
We slid out of her penthouse, locked the enormous steel door behind us, and took the elevator
back to the parking garage below. Her car wasn't exactly subtle, but the vehicle owners in Callisto
liked measuring socio-economic dicks, so we didn't stand out in the region, either.
I rode shotgun, and as Gwen pulled out of the parking garage, she surprised me with another
question.
 "What do you do for fun?" she asked.
"What?" I said, confused.
"When you're not running around trying to save the world on a shoestring budget and chasing
down an invisible man with all the money in the world," Gwen explained. "I mean, you've got to have
hobbies. Shit you like doing, things that help you relax."
"Competitive pole dancing," I said.
She blinked at that. "You're pulling my leg."
"Obviously. The exotic dancing union would have me out of a job in a week due to the sheer
competition they'd be facing."
"I'm serious, Dean."
"So am I. Strippers can be a cagey bunch."
Gwen pinned me with a glare, and I relented.
"I like whiskey. I like company. And reading."
"That's it?"
I shrugged. "I don't really have time for anything else. Too busy recovering or working the next
mission. If there's a local bridge club or something, I guess I could sign up. But we're a little busy,
right?"
"Just wondering what kind of toll it takes on you," Gwen said. "I've seen guys like you before.
Hell, even Billy knows how to relax, and he's one of the most tightly wound people I know."
"You don't say."
Gwen steered her car out of Callisto and onto the main arterial. Cars, billboards, and
skyscrapers flitted by as we rolled toward Downtown, and Gwen checked her mirrors reflexively
every thirty seconds or so.
I kept my eyes open for any suspicious driving activity around us, but I couldn't spot anything
that looked out of the ordinary. Most people were on their way to work, but Empyrion was one of the
few cities where the rat race didn't inconvenience people trying to get in and out of the suburbs.
Gwen's pocket buzzed, and she quickly shifted her hips to dig out something. It was an old-
school smartphone, still pretty common outside the US, but a big departure from the holographic
interfaces seen all around Empyrion.
"It's Chuck," she said. "Get that for me?"
She tossed me the phone, and I caught it and hit the 'answer' option.
"Gwendolyn's Gourmet Goodie Mart. How can we help you today?"
Giselle's voice surprised me on the other end. "So you had a good night, then?"
Gwen and I shared a wink. "You could say that. What's happening?"
"Well, aside from nursing a nonexistent hangover, and playing way more poker last night than I
should've, someone left something here for you," Giselle replied.
I tensed. "Did you see who it was?"
"No sign of them. But you're going to want to see this."
"Not a present from Pinnacle?"
"Not unless Pinnacle likes being all mysterious with silver briefcases," Giselle said.
I stared ahead, quelled the excited surge in my gut, and let a long, slow breath hiss out through
my teeth. "You haven't opened it yet?"
"I'll be honest, I tried."
"You must be a terror at Christmas."
"But it didn't work, Dean," Giselle said. "I should be able to get through just about any kind of
lock, right?"
 My eyes widened. "Wait, what?"
"I can't open it," Giselle said, and I noted the frustrated edge in her voice. "I should be able to.
But I can't. Which makes me feel like it's from Brandon, for you."
"Sounds like we've got a new mission. Gwen, ETA?"
"Fifteen minutes," Gwen assured me. "What's this about?"
"We'll see you in fifteen," I said to Giselle and ended the call.
Gwen glanced a question at me, and I grinned.
"Looks like dad got in touch. And unless I miss my guess, he'll have left instructions behind." I
settled back into the car seat and nodded to the road ahead. "And dad's always been big on presents.
Especially when things get hot."
Gwen put her foot down on the gas, and we wove through the traffic.
Dad had been in touch, and hopefully, he'd have some kind of explanation.
I wasn't about to hold my breath, but who doesn't like a gift from time to time?

Chapter 22
Gwen took us through the main arterial and forked off onto an exit that led back into the
Industrial District. She didn't say anything for a few minutes. I contained my excitement, kept my eyes
open for any tails or suspicious driving activity around us, and found nothing.
We'd torn through Pinnacle's sense of invulnerability three times in a row, but they still hadn't
managed to lock us down in one place. I'd have half-expected supers to patrol the sky, or at least an
army of flying drones with facial-recognition cameras overhead, but they hadn't deployed either,
which puzzled me.
They had the resources, the cozy seat with the government, and all the apparent justification
they needed to start violating civil rights. But they hadn't started yet.
"No chance that this silver case is a trap?" Gwen asked me finally.
I blinked at that. "I mean, if it belonged to anyone else, Giselle would've opened it. So I'm
pretty damn sure it's dad. Which means two things, at an absolute minimum."
"Christmas come early?" Gwen guessed.
"That, and things are about to get a lot more complicated," I agreed.
"How so?"
"I wouldn't have thought to find you guys until my old man told me to. I found one of these in a
safe house, three days ago. Next thing you know, Darkstalker's dead, I've got his powers in my ATM
machine, and Giselle's now running around as the new ninja. And, in retrospect, that was pretty
fucking normal compared to what we have now."
"True," Gwen admitted. "So, what next? What do you think he's got for you?"
"It'll be equal parts fun and terrifying. That much I can tell you."
Gwen guided her little electric spaceship past a series of industrial yards loaded to the fences
with trucks, shipping containers, and other mechanical junk. We arrived at an old warehouse at the
edge of a weed-choked block.
Eight-foot chain-link fences sagged around the edges of the property, topped with razor wire,
and a dilapidated warehouse sat squarely within the fence. It was a monument to American
manufacturing. There wasn't a single window that wasn't boarded up, a single wall untouched by
graffiti, or a roof sheet that wasn't rusted and full of holes. Gwen pulled the car up to the main gate
and tossed me a key from the center console of her car.
"Always wanted to be a footman," I chuckled, and pushed the door open.
 "You've got the right personality for it," Gwen replied with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.
The main gate was locked with a rusted chain and padlock roughly the size of my kneecap. I
wrestled with the lock for a few seconds before it came open with a grinding click, and I hauled the
gate open. Gwen's car slid through the space, and I closed and locked the gate behind us.
A short stretch of driveway led over to the warehouse entrance, with doors that reminded me of
a WWII-era bunker. A sea of weeds and stringy grass fought for dominance at the edges of cracked,
scarred concrete, and when I stepped out of Gwen's car again, the age-old smell of molten metal,
gasoline, and lubricant washed over my senses.
The warehouse was a relic of times gone by, and the whole building should have been stashed
in a museum somewhere for careful preservation.
The doors rattled open like grinding thunder as we approached them, and Chuck stepped into
view with a bright grin on his face and two takeaway cups of coffee. Gwen took them with an
appreciative nod, and Chuck stepped back to allow us into his lair.
The inside wasn't anything special. More busted concrete and puddles of molten slag. Oddly-
spaced shafts of light washed over the floor. Machines had been cleared out long ago, but the supports,
benches, and leftover infrastructure for what had once been a welding shop still stood in proud,
scattered formations across the warehouse floor.
"Hell of a cover," I observed. "Why haven't they knocked this place down yet?"
"Privately owned," Chuck said with a wink. "Come on, Giselle's jumping out of her skin to see
you." The giant hauled the doors shut behind us and leaned back to press a button hidden under a
rusted bench. "Welcome to my lair."
One of the benches slid back, took a chunk of the floor with it, and opened up a set of stairs that
snaked down into a dark passage under the ground.
Gwen handed me a coffee and effortlessly ducked into the narrow underground tunnel.
I raised an eyebrow at Chuck and nodded at the hidden entrance to his home.
"How do you fit in there?" I asked. "Genuinely curious."
"You'd be amazed at where I can fit when I feel like it," he replied.
"I'd hate to see your stretching routine."
"Then don't turn up to the next gymnastics comps in town. You'll blow a gasket."
"Maybe you and Giselle can form a team," I said, and stepped down into the dark.
The stairs were steep, dropping me unceremoniously into a concrete corridor underground. It
was surprisingly large for what looked like a bolt-hole, but I figured Chuck's bulk probably had
something to do with it.
You could be seven feet tall and flexible, sure, but it didn't mean that you wanted to constantly
be ducking under light fittings and scraping your elbows on roughly-rendered walls. I followed
Gwen's fantastic ass further down the corridor, which forked right, and ended at another bomb-shelter
door. Gwen cranked a handle, slammed her shoulder against it, and bullied it open with a grunt.
The next room caught me off-guard. I'd expected a cramped room, but it was a massive space,
well-lit and decorated, and looked like every doomsday-prepper's wet dream.
An honest-to-god firing range opened up on the left, with separate cubicles and almost a
hundred yards of length to it. Racks of highly-illegal weapons lined the walls on the right, all
meticulously maintained. I spotted everything from regular AR15-pattern rifles to pistols to an actual
rotary grenade launcher.
An antique mahogany table sat in the closest corner on the right. Giselle sat there, sipped a
coffee, and puzzled over a laptop. The silver case she'd told me about sat at her elbow, and she glanced
up as we stepped into the room. Her face lit up with a radiant smile.
 "Morning, sunshine," she said with a grin. "Good night?"
"Excellent. Rough, though. Feel like I've been hit by a train."
"You look like it." Giselle laughed.
I scanned the rest of the cavernous room behind her. Two doors led to other rooms, which I
guessed were living quarters, and a fully-stocked industrial kitchen took up the far right corner. I
briefly had a mental image of Chuck in an apron and chef hat and tried not to laugh at it as I glanced
up at the ceiling.
Warm halogen lights hummed overhead, and subtle venting snaked through tactical points that
probably helped provide the airflow to Chuck's underground bunker.
My gaze drifted down, where rich, warm-red carpets were arranged tastefully throughout the
pale concrete. If you looked past the huge arsenal, firing range, and military-style kitchen, it was
actually a damn nice place to live.
I pulled out a chair across from Giselle and sat down. She pushed the silver case to me, snapped
her computer closed, and watched me spin it around. Gwen leaned on the edge of the table, and Chuck
swung the heavy steel door closed behind the four of us.
Every eye in the room fell on the case, all excitement and nerves and adrenaline.
I pressed my thumbs onto the sensors where the locks were supposed to be.
The same soft, smooth click opened the case.
I pushed it open without any special ceremony.

Chapter 23
A slip of paper sat beside another hefty roll of cash, a small flash drive that had to be at least 30
years old, and a whole lot of nothing else.
I pried the flash drive out of the foam and tossed it to Giselle.
She caught it with a blink of surprise. "What's this?"
"No idea," I told her. "Can you get into it?"
"I'd need a prehistoric computer," Giselle said.
"Done," Chuck said. "I'll get it for you."
The huge merc disappeared into one of the side doors, and Giselle glanced at Gwen.
"You struck me as someone who didn't mind the new stuff."
"Never hurts to have redundancies," Gwen replied. "Pinnacle has enough of them, and people
like SatSec have backdoors into every cloud and server you can think of."
"We made sure there weren't any backdoors," Giselle said hotly. "That was my job."
"How many people did you have to fire for tinkering?" Gwen countered.
Giselle's jaw clenched. "More than a few."
"So they were shit at not being caught. I'm not saying you were bad at your job, Giselle. I'm just
saying that Pinnacle have their fingers in everything. Especially tech, because that's the easiest way
for them to keep support amongst people."
I opened the fold of paper. A smirk crossed my face at the words. Dad had made the message
nonspecific, as usual, and of course he'd just had to make things more complicated for us.
"What's it say?" Giselle asked.
"Complete the Party. Obtain loot. Begin the raid," I read aloud.
Gwen and Giselle blinked at me, confused. I tossed the slip of paper back into the suitcase with
a chuckle. These weren't exactly the normal kind as far as Dad's instructions went. He'd originally told
me to form a party, which I had. But the next two suggestions were a lot less specific.
 I gestured for Gwen to sit down with the rest of us. She did, just as Chuck appeared with a
dinosaur of a laptop. The thing probably still had a disc drive. It'd also work as a pretty good
bulletproof plate, if it came down to it.
"This is nerd-speak, right?" Gwen asked.
"Brandon loves it, especially with Dean," Giselle said. "Same kind of language as the first
message we got from him. But don't we already have a 'party' with Gwen and the others?"
I thought about it for a moment. "We might be mixing our nerd metaphors."
"How so?" Gwen asked.
"This is a guess, not a fact," I said. "But it'd depend on how many people Dad thinks should be
in a party. In the game we used to play together, his go-to, it was four."
"We've got more than four," Gwen pointed out.
"But only three supers," Chuck supplied. "Right? You, Giselle, and Dean?"
"Which would mean that we're still one short," I said.
Chuck opened up his brick of a computer, slotted in the flash drive, and slid it over to Giselle.
Her fingers danced over the keys and rubbed the worn-out trackpad. I tried not to chuckle as her brow
knitted into a frustrated expression. She was obviously used to much more interactive, ergonomic
technology, and the old stuff tested her patience.
"Let me know what you find," I told her.
"So you're just supposed to be able to find another super? Just like that?" Gwen asked. "There's
dozens of them, still out there, looking for us. Wouldn't be hard to isolate one. But who are you going
to transfer the powers to?"
"Not sure," I said. "I'm hoping dad's got some better information for us. He wouldn't have sent
the drive for nothing."
Giselle growled a curse. "Fucking thing isn't encrypted, but it's taking forever to unzip. What do
you think Brandon means by 'loot'? Is that a code for weapons?"
"Usually weapons and armor," I confirmed. "Which we already have plenty of. So he's probably
talking about specialized equipment. Something that we need and don't have. Which doesn't make
much sense, because there's a fucking grenade launcher behind us, and I'm pretty sure Billy could
cook up any number of anti-super weapons with enough time."
Gwen shook her head. "Sounds really vague. And what the hell does he mean by 'raid'? Is he
asking us to take on Pinnacle HQ? With our current resources?"
"That'd be a suicide run, Gwen," Chuck said. "And I'm guessing Mr Silver isn't in the habit of
pushing people into throwing their lives away aimlessly."
Gwen eyed me. "Oh, I don't know about that. Dean's almost got the monopoly on insane shit
that should get him killed."
"Patent pending." I chuckled. "But Pinnacle's Magical Flying Dick is a little out of our reach.
Literally. But I don't think that's what Dad is referring to, either. It's got to be another mission,
something a little lower to the ground."
I stretched and glanced over at Giselle. "How's it going?"
"Taking its time. How the hell did people live with this?"
"You'd be surprised how many still do. Plenty of places without as much money as the US are
still on older systems. Technology isn't the great equalizer that they want us to believe it is, trust me." I
stood up and turned my eyes to Chuck. "How often do you dust off those targets?"
"Often enough," Chuck said. "You want to burn some ammo?"
"Depends, do we have a shortage?"
Gwen snorted. "Please. We've got bullets and then some."
 I slid the 9mm out of my waistband and strolled up to the targets suspended from the ceiling.
They were all human-shaped, built into a mechanism on the roof that allowed them to move, flip up
from random directions, and whip around along sleds. I noted an analog control panel beside me,
bumped it with my elbow, and waited with the pistol at my side.
An alarm blared, and four targets dropped down in quick succession. I let thousands of hours of
training take the driving seat, smoothly lifting my gun up to shoulder height. My finger hit the trigger
in the same instant my sights lined up on the snarling superhero cutout, and a bullet slammed into the
steel in a flash of sparks and sound.
Flowing with my reflexes, I shifted targets, pinged the three other targets, and heard another
alarm blare across the space. The targets snapped back into place, and Chuck appeared beside me with
a box of 9mm and a slap on the shoulder that sent me reeling.
"Interesting drill style," he said. "Doesn't look like anything I've seen before."
"Picked it up from a lot of different places," I said. "Nice setup you've got here. Anyone would
think you're looking to train people here or something."
"Most people we get in don't start from scratch. But it's a good way to stay sharp."
I glanced over my shoulder to check on Giselle and saw Gwen wave me back over. I dropped
the magazine into my hand, cycled the round in the chamber, and caught it. I set down the 9mm on a
small shelf in front of me, clipped the round back into the magazine, and left both of them close to the
range.
Gwen circled around to stand behind Giselle as I approached, and she peered down at the
screen, excitement in her eyes.
"What are we looking at?" I asked.
"It's a Pinnacle property," Giselle said, her voice tight with enthusiasm.
"Where?" Chuck asked.
"Queensby, looks like," Gwen muttered. "Zoom out for me?"
I took up a spot on Giselle's left and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Gwen. The old screen
displayed satellite imaging of a wide space with a manor at the very center of it. A maze of garden
walkways spiraled out from the central house, all hedges and paved walkways, and woods dotted the
edges of the grounds. A half-dozen small structures clustered themselves around the large central
structure, and a brick wall spanned the whole way around the acres of land.
It reminded me of a British-style mansion, but cameras bristled at every entry point, and the
satellite showed swarms of flying quadcopters. Sentry drones, more than likely. It'd be borderline
impossible to get into the place without being spotted or seen by digital eyes.
Giselle scrolled down and showed outlines of armored guards with sleek, high-tech rifles.
Pneumatics and electronics were built into the steel of their outer shell, and Gwen inhaled sharply as
she looked closer at them.
"Shit," she said.

Chapter 24
"Pretty strapped-up looking mercs," I observed.
"We heard something about exo-skeletal armor systems on the grapevine," Chuck added. "Last
we checked it was in prototype phase, with nothing that actually worked."
"Looks like your information is out of date," Giselle said.
"You know anything about this through SatSec?" Gwen asked.
Giselle shook her head. "We're software security people. Or I was, rather. There's no way they
haven't fired me after not turning up in the last two days without a reason. But we didn't have anything
to do with this."
"Must've been recently fielded, then," Gwen said.
"Just for us?" I asked. "Not sure whether to be flattered or concerned."
"Pick concerned," Chuck warned. "They're made from the same stuff that the supers use in their
costumes, boosts their strength and takes half the strain out of moving. They're going to be faster,
stronger, and probably more accurate with those rifles than if they were just vanilla mercs." Chuck
jabbed a sausage-sized finger at the screen to highlight his point. "Smart-rifles. They'll run sensors that
feed directly to a HUD system in the helmet. Means that aiming from the hip is actually a viable
strategy."
I sucked in a breath through my teeth. "Shit. Okay, resistance is high. Why has Dad sent us after
this place in particular? What's so valuable inside that Pinnacle has it under high-security lockdown?"
Giselle clicked through a few menu windows, and a new face appeared on the screen. She was
gorgeous, had caramel-colored skin, dark hair, and bright, intelligent green eyes. Her name appeared
beside her picture. Piper Cervantes. A Pinnacle superhero, if the files were to be believed, with healing
powers. The words 'PR' and 'damage control' appeared in her bio, and I narrowed my eyes as I scanned
her information.
"superhero liaison with press, image consultant, and casualty cleanup unit," I read aloud. "So
she's the one responsible for all of the pro-super propaganda?"
"There's more than one," Gwen assured me. "And look."
Giselle opened up a blueprint-like map of the compound, and a glowing pin appeared in one of
the dorm rooms. The place must've once been some kind of private residential college, or maybe a
school for the super-elite. The glowing dot was comfortably nestled in the center of a wide range of
rooms and corridors, and highlighted exactly where Piper was located.
"She's not working with them," I realized. "She's a prisoner."
"She could just be staying there, to keep her safe," Giselle suggested.
I shook my head. "Eight foot brick walls? Armored super-guards with guns smarter than they
are? Located in the exact center of the whole fucking complex? No, she's a prisoner for sure. And it
looks like she's got the information we're going to need."
"Press liaison," Giselle said, slowly. "And an image consultant. She'll know things."
I nodded. "Could be that she knows too much already. That's why they locked her up."
"Or she could be such a loose cannon that she needed to be kept under guard," Gwen pointed
out.
"With healing powers?" I countered. "Doesn't seem likely."
"Dean," Giselle pressed, "aren't healers normally an important part of RPGs?"
A grin spread across my face. "They sure are. And we've already got a couple of the other
classics in play at the moment. Gwen is ranged DPS and support, you're a critical damage CQC type.
It makes sense that Piper would fit in as the healer."
"What does that make you?" Chuck asked.
"Probably the tank," I said. "Draw aggro, let the others do the work."
"You're pretty talented at that," Gwen admitted. "But what makes you think she's going to want
to work with us? We're wanted terrorists, remember? Domestic threat to security, enemies of Pinnacle,
power-stealing lunatics who've left a trail of bodies in their wake?"
"In my defense," I replied, "I only killed one of them. One's still alive and the other guy got his
brain blended by remote-control. But I see your point. She's likely not going to want to cooperate with
us in a hurry. We'll just have to persuade her."
 "Next question," Giselle said. "Is this the raid that Brandon is talking about?"
I thought about it. "No, because the instructions are in sequential order. Dad doesn't ever loop
two objectives together into a pile. It's always A followed by B. So this is the first step. Piper's the key
to getting an idea of what the second two mean, I'm sure of it."
Gwen and Chuck didn't look convinced, but Giselle nodded her agreement.
"So we have a target," Gwen said. "Next question is the plan of attack."
"We need recon," I said. "Having plans to the place is great, but we need eyes on the place,
guard and drone patterns, and we need to know where the entry points are. Are Javier and Billy doing
anything today?"
"You want to do this in broad daylight?" Gwen asked, astonished.
"There's a curfew on, haven't you heard? We're not allowed to move around at night."
Giselle stifled a laugh at that. "He's got a point. They'll be on higher alert when it gets dark. My
guess is they'll be looking for patterns. The daylight run against Pinnacle's building was a disaster, but
the Outreach Center was a different story."
"Higher visibility and better sight-lines for their drones," Gwen warned.
"Billy's been working on something for that," Chuck told her. "An EMP device."
I grinned. "So if we can brick their cameras and their armor, that gives us a window."
Gwen gritted her teeth. "You're all insane, but all right. Even with that, we don't have the
numbers to take on a small army of armored fuckers at once. At most, we can manage six in the field
at once. I hope you're not planning on just knocking on the front gate."
"Let's plan it backwards," I suggested. "Do you have any safehouses in the area?"
"Two." Gwen nodded. "A bed and breakfast maybe a mile away, and another stocked apartment
in the other direction."
"Then those are our exfil points," I said. "Vehicles?"
"Van, couple of sedans," Chuck supplied. "Innocuous enough, nothing that'll catch any attention
on radar. If they run the plates, they'll be shit out of luck. That'll get us out of there in a hurry, and if
we position it right, we could even use rush hour to our advantage. They might shut down the suburb,
but if they have to blockade an entire main arterial and check every car, there'll be riots."
"Even in Empyrion?" I wondered aloud.
"Definitely. It's Friday. It'll be the weekend tomorrow," Giselle confirmed.
"So we've got our endpoints, and our transport to said locations," I said. "Ideally, we're going to
want cover. A distraction to pull the guards away from the house as best we can."
"They're not going to be total idiots about it," Gwen said.
"But it'll still lessen resistance on the way in," I said, "which is good for us. Better yet, maybe
we can have two distractions. One fireteam with conventional weapons, to boost their confidence and
give them an opportunity to try out their new toys. Then the real overwatch comes in." I nodded to
Gwen. "If you take Scourge's cannon and set up on the other side of the property, you'll be able to
knock them down like cans on a fence. That gives us the cover we need to get Piper out of there and
into a vehicle."
"We don't have any eyes on the inside," Giselle pointed out.
"Then it's a good thing we've got a ninja who understands computer systems and ignores locks,"
I replied with a smirk. "You can split off, find their command console, and blind them once we get it.
It'll provide cover on the way out, slow down the mercs enough to help the first fireteam get the fuck
out of Dodge, and make it easier to extract our target."
"Any details on supers guarding the place?" Chuck asked.
"Nothing I can see," Giselle said, "but it makes sense that they'd keep some around. Especially
if the place is actually a kind of prison compound."
"And if they're there to hold dissident supers," Gwen added, "they're probably going to be hell
on wheels in a fight. Which also complicates things."
"We'll deal with it. I'll feel a lot better knowing that you can cut people in half from a distance,"
I said to Gwen. "Even a super's going to feel one of those rounds when you hit them with it. Giselle
and I will go in on foot, after the four of you create two staggered distractions. Lure them all to one
area, Chuck. Gwen cuts down any of the stragglers and gives me and Giselle cover to get inside."
"Pretty fucking close to Pinnacle HQ," Gwen said. "They might send Patriot or Phenomenon
after us, you know. And we're not equipped for that. There's no way we outrun them, and they'll take
us apart the second they know what we're up to."
"Another distraction at the other side of town?" Giselle suggested.
Gwen rubbed her temples with a grimace. "It's a lot of resources for one girl. It can be done, but
I don't want to lose people on this. We're short staffed as it is. I'll see what I can do about it. So, two
distractions, you sneak in once the outside camera network is fried, secure the girl, and we dash away
in a blaze of glory with a potential pack of supers on our tail."
"You never know, it might go smoother than that," I said.
Gwen eyed me. "I doubt it's ever that simple when you're involved."
I shrugged. "It could be. It's ballsy, they're still on their heels from everything that we've done to
them. After this, we'll lay low and let them spin their wheels trying to find us."
Chuck nudged Gwen with a grin. "It's actually a pretty good plan, you know."
"It's not bad," she said, "but there's a million ways that it goes wrong. We might have a better
edge than we did before, but that doesn't change the fact that we're in the frying pan already. Pinnacle's
looking to push back."
"You're afraid of them?" Giselle asked.
"I'm afraid of my people getting hurt," Gwen replied sharply.
"We know what we signed up for, Gwen," Chuck said. "And be honest. You're loving the
opportunity to stick a thumb into Pinnacle's eye. You haven't had this much fun in ages."
Gwen frowned for a moment, but a hesitant smile threatened to push its way through to her
face.
I put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed gently, and placed the other on Giselle's. She hummed
happily, closed the ancient laptop down, and turned in her chair to face the three of us. Her eyes
flickered up to the firing range behind us, and then fell to Gwen.
"We still haven't seen what we're all capable of, yet," Giselle said.
"That's a good point," Chuck agreed.
Gwen rolled her neck around her shoulders. "All right. I'm going on record as saying that if this
blows up in our face, I'm blaming you, Dean. I'll call Billy and a couple of other people, see what they
can come up with."
"And then we'll do some training," I said. "Never hurts to learn a couple new tricks."
Gwen slipped her phone out of her pocket, and Giselle stood up and followed me to the firing
range. Chuck vanished back toward the industrial kitchen, lit up some burners, and opened a fridge.
I guided Giselle to the unloaded 9mm and nodded to it.
"Alright," I said. "Time for you to learn how to pew."

Chapter 25
"I'm not all that familiar with guns," Giselle warned me.
 "But you know the basic safety rules already," I said. "Point it at something only if you want it
dead. Always check your chamber for loaded rounds. Always assume it's loaded even if it hasn't got a
magazine in it."
Giselle nodded, picked up the pistol, and racked the slide back to check the chamber. The
weapon looked good in her hands. Sleek, black, and compact, it was the perfect size and had the right
kind of weight and balance for her.
Her pianist fingers scooped up the mostly-full magazine and slotted it in. She flicked the slide
closed with a thumb. She kept the gun downrange and placed another hand under the other to support
it.
I stepped in close behind her, reached under her arms, and adjusted her grip slightly. "Thumbs
together on one side. Blade your stance a little, one foot forward, another back a little. Yeah, that's it."
I couldn't help a chuckle as she pushed her ass up against my hips suggestively. "Maybe a little too
much. Now, don't pull the trigger. Squeeze it gently. Line up the sights."
I smacked the button beside us, and two targets popped up from the range's floor.
Giselle swiveled on her heels, drew a bead on the closest one, and pulled the trigger. The gun
went off. Her round skittered off the concrete a foot to the left and ricocheted harmlessly into the back
wall.
"Shit," she muttered to herself.
"You're going too fast," I said.
"You're going fast all the time," she countered.
"True, but I learned slow and smooth." I took a half-step back away from her. "Take your time.
In the pocket, you're going to be pumped on adrenaline. Your hands'll shake, you'll find it hard to get a
bead on things, and you'll struggle to hit stuff as it is."
"You don't miss. Like, ever."
"Again, because I've practiced. A lot. Try again."
Giselle squinted down the sights, lifted the pistol, and took a deep breath. Air hissed out through
her teeth. She yanked back on the trigger again. The bullet missed, but it was a closer miss, and almost
took out the target's leg.
I ducked back to the racks of weapons and found a Glock-variant that looked close enough to
what I wanted. A spare magazine and a box of ammo sat beside it, and I rejoined Giselle with them.
She'd found and put on a set of earmuffs beside her to take the edge off the sound.
I found a fresh set, placed down my spoils from Chuck's gun-rack, and quickly put the gun
together. It was oiled and well-maintained. When I dry-fired it, the gun clicked beautifully in my hand.
I dropped the magazine and thumbed fat 9mm rounds into it.
A wave of my hand caught Giselle's attention. She dropped out her own magazine, cycled the
round in the chamber, and set it down in front of her carefully.
I nodded and grinned my appreciation of her weapons handling.
I demonstrated a couple of drills with my newly acquired pistol. Chuck hadn't skimped on the
budget for his guns.
The pistol was an older-style model, though the last fifty years hadn't really changed kinetic
weapons all that much. Solid projectiles were fantastic killing tools against just about everything
except supers.
I lifted the gun, slid instinctively into a shooter's stance, fired at a target, knocked it down, and
brought the weapon back into retention. Then I extended it out again, almost like throwing a punch,
and fired again. I dropped out the magazine, reloaded it smoothly, slowly as I could. Then, I repeated
the exercise.
 Magazine empty, I laid the gun down and gestured for Giselle to run the same drill.
She pulled off her hearing protection for a moment. "How long have you been doing this for?"
"Years," I said. "Probably since I could hold a gun, to be honest. But don't measure yourself
against me. We'll get you drilling this consistently until it becomes second nature. It's like the gym.
Slow, smooth, correct reps are always better than trying to go harder and faster. You're trying to make
it instinct, and that takes time."
Giselle frowned. "We don't really have that kind of time."
"Better you know shooting basics than not knowing them," I said.
She nodded, put on her earmuffs, and got to it.
I watched her for twenty minutes, adjusted her form and her stance a few times, and found
myself impressed at how quickly she picked it up. Giselle had a natural agility and grace about her,
probably from years of training on the gymnastic mats, and she applied it well to the gun in her hand.
Over and over again, she focused on each movement and forced herself to slow down. There
were fumbles, here and there, but nothing crippling. I had to admit that she might have been a natural.
I'd need her to be better than this--much better--and she wasn't shooting under stress, but everyone had
to start somewhere.
Gwen appeared from the hallway.
She watched Giselle with something close to approval shining in her eyes. She collected her
own gun from the racks behind us and sidled up to join the cubicle next to mine with a full mag of
ammo and a fierce glint in her eye. She plugged her ears and stuck out her jaw in a belligerent
challenge.
I grinned at her, gestured at the targets, and hit the button beside her head.
A klaxon sounded. Targets dropped.
Gwen landed six headshots in a little under three or four seconds. She moved like magic, and
her aim seemed magnetized to target after target. Her eyes widened after the third one, and she set the
gun down.
I called a halt to the shooting, and we took off ear protection to talk.
"How's it feel?" I asked.
Gwen stared back at the targets, dumbfounded. "I mean, I'm good with a gun. But this is
ridiculous. I barely have to try anymore. It's just point, shoot, and it hits what I want it to."
"Similar with the knife throw?"
"Exactly the same," she confirmed. "It's crazy."
"Try snap shooting," I said. "Get a good look at what you want to hit, shoot, but don't take too
long to aim. Just dump rounds."
Gwen nodded, slipped her hearing protection back in, and raised the pistol again. She snapped
off three shots in the space of half a second with barely a glance at her targets. Each super-shaped
target got tagged dead-center in the skull.
My eyebrows went up at that. It was superhuman accuracy, for sure. I'd seen some of the best
shooters in the world, combat and competition. None of them could have boasted that kind of insane,
blink-and-miss-it accuracy.
Gwen glanced down at the gun in her hand, stare focusing. I heard a small click from the
magazine. She dropped it, checked the top, and found it brim-full of 9mm.
A crazy grin stretched over her face as she reloaded. Her eyes swept over the targets, and she
fired at everything she could see. The trigger slammed back as she blew away one target after the
other, snapping to each target like she'd enabled some kind of hack in a computer game.
Another glance at her gun, and the magazine was full again.
 Gwen slipped the magazine out. She dropped every bullet she could onto the small shelf in front
of her, reloaded, and tried the same trick. The gun clicked empty and the slide went back, and she
frowned.
She thumbed one round into the magazine, focused on it, but nothing happened. The magazine
didn't magically refill. Gwen slapped the mag back into the pistol, glaring at it hard. That soft click
came through again.
So Refill Container had its limits.
It couldn't fill an empty container. The container had to be, well, contained. If it was open to the
air, she couldn't refresh her rounds. But inside a contained package, with something remaining in it,
Gwen had functionally unlimited ammo.
I watched her blitz targets for another two minutes. She aimed, turned her whole head to look at
Giselle's stunned expression, and then fired. Despite a complete lack of vision on her target, with no
effort, her bullet still crashed into a steel plate and knocked it down.
Giselle reloaded her own pistol with a look of determination before she went back to the drills
I'd shown her. She didn't speed up, staying almost aggressively slow and smooth.
The two gorgeous women burned through their bullets, over and over again. The shooting range
rang with the sound of lead striking steel.
Chuck strolled up, made a chopping motion, and the girls lowered their guns. The echo of the
rounds and the strong smell of cordite faded, and they unloaded their pistols with smooth
professionalism.
Gwen looked like a kid on Christmas. She bounced from foot to foot with a wicked grin on her
face. She winked at me as she slid her hearing protection out and hung it up on a hook below the small
shelf at the front of the firing range.
"I don't think I've ever seen something so fucking cool," she said. "Let alone done it."
Chuck had a thoughtful expression as he nodded to Gwen. "So, doesn't work if you're empty?"
"That's right," she confirmed.
"Need to keep a clear head in a firefight," I said. "Not having to worry about an ammo count is
amazing, but if the adrenaline takes over and you run dry, you're still just as fucked as the rest of us
would be."
"Good thing I'm working from a range, then, isn't it?" she said.
I thought about Gwen's petite form on the other end of Scourge's monster-hunting cannon. She'd
have ludicrous range, accuracy, and the ability to refill the enormous rounds without the drawback of
lugging said ammo around.
"Might even be an idea to get you a SAW," I said. "Big rounds, inhuman accuracy, no ammo
count on a belt-fed weapon? If you can reload it, that'd be fucking insane."
Gwen's grin just widened. "Or a minigun?"
"Jesus," Giselle muttered. "Wouldn't be a thing alive that wouldn't end up looking like Swiss
cheese after you're done with it." She watched Chuck as he stepped over to the opposite corner,
dragging out a bunch of padded mats. "What are those for?"

Chapter 26
"CQC," Chuck explained. "Hand-to-hand stuff. Figured that it wouldn't hurt to give everyone a
brush up. Or an introduction, if it's needed."
I grinned at Gwen. "I think he's talking about you."
"Oh yeah? Step on the mat and let's see how you fare against someone who knows what they're
doing."
"Maybe later. It's Giselle's turn."
I slid out of my shoes, stepped onto the mats, and gestured for Giselle to follow me. She shook
herself out of her cons. I asked Chuck for a dulled knife for training purposes, and he got one for me
in a minute and a half. I admired the bit of gear. It was dulled, sure, but it had the right weight and size
to it for an average knife.
Giselle raised her eyebrows as I tossed it to her, and she snatched it out of the air. She tested the
edge, just as I had, and lowered it close to her thigh.
"Why a knife?" she asked.
"You're the most likely out of all of us to get in close with people," I said.
"With the exception of you," Gwen called out.
I shrugged at the point. "Fair enough, except me. Knife's pretty much the best thing you can
have in close quarters if you need a killing tool. If we were going really hard into the whole ninja
thing, I'd ask Chuck to dig out a katana, but those take years to learn to use properly."
"I mean, I've got one--" Chuck began with a grin.
I cut him off. "--so we're working with the knife."
Giselle eyed me for a long moment. "Okay, so, pointy end in other person?"
Chuck choked on a laugh, and I grinned. "There's certain points you want to aim for."
"Throat and eyes?" Giselle asked.
"Good start, but a lot of the people we're up against like helmets," I said. "The throat is always a
good target, but it can be rough to hit it properly. So I'd suggest looking for where armor is usually the
weakest on an opponent."
I lifted an arm and gestured to my armpit. "Either side is good. If you can get a couple of inches
of steel into someone's chest cavity, it'll tear up all kinds of nerves and arteries. And people don't
normally armor it up, either, so it's a good target."
"Okay, armpits. What else?"
"Groin is a good option," Gwen suggested. "Insides of thighs, plenty of arteries there, too. If
you can get a knife up under someone's chin, they're in for a bad time."
Giselle took the suggestions in stride, to my honest surprise.
Most civilians, especially a proper young lady like Giselle, would have blanched at the idea of
chewing someone up with a knife. But my shadowy partner had seen her fair share of violence at close
quarters, and she took our suggestions with serious nods without a single ounce of squeamishness in
her eyes. She had the look, one I'd seen in the eyes of people who knew that violence was one of their
best options and were willing to accept the consequences.
"Alright, come at me," I said.
Giselle smirked. "You sure?"
"Dead certain," I assured her.
Giselle lunged off her front foot with a spearing stab. The sheer speed and grace of it took me
off-guard, but my instincts held true.
I pivoted my hips out of the way of the blade. The practice knife hissed past my gut. I caught
hold of her wrist and cut her feet out from under her with a rapid sweep. Giselle's legs rocketed out
from under her, and she hit the ground with a surprised whuff of breath. I pulled the knife from her
stunned fingers and helped her back to her feet.
"What was that for?" Giselle asked.
"First lesson for you," I said. "Don't hit people head on if you can help it. I'm better than most,
but if they've got fighting ability that's better than yours, and they're serious--"
 "--and they're supers," Gwen added, helpfully.
"--then they'll twist you into knots," I finished.
"Would've been nice to hear that the first time," Giselle muttered.
"Now you know," I said. "Chuck, borrow you for a minute?"
The huge merc stepped onto the mat with a small bow and a slap of his thighs, which
immediately told me that he was a grappler of some kind, and trained old-school.
I had him spin around, and we demonstrated a couple of quiet sentry-kill techniques. My hand
snaked around Chuck's mouth and chin. I slammed a knee into the back of his and hauled back on
Chuck's center of gravity to bring him down to my level. The move ended with my knife resting
against the soft flesh behind Chuck's collarbone, and I glanced up at Giselle.
"Lot of important real estate in the chest cavity," I said. "If you can get past the neck and behind
a plate, you're looking at a lot of internal bleeding very quickly."
Giselle noted my pressure on Chuck's neck. The big guy was being real accommodating--he
probably could have easily tossed me over his shoulder with a good swing of his hips--but he
understood the importance of the training.
I moved through a few other surprise attacks with a knife, always finishing with a devastating
blow to an artery, or a cut that would open someone up like cheap plastic packaging.
Giselle asked intelligent questions, and I quickly traded the knife over to her so she could try it
herself. Chuck was an amazing coach and soon relieved me from the duty entirely.
I stepped off the mat to join Gwen, to watch the two of them move through a series of moves.
Giselle stuck by my smoothness ideal from the shooting. With each new move, she made very sure to
take it slow and note the small details as she worked on straightforward kill techniques.
"She's strong," Gwen noted as Giselle whipped Chuck's legs out from under him.
"And a fast learner, yeah," I said, a note of pride in my voice.
"I mean, strong enough to keep up with you and Chuck," she said. "Not quite Patriot strong,
obviously, but she looks like she'd be a handful against any vanilla threat."
"Which is what we want," I pointed out. "Especially if Pinnacle is going to be fielding their own
teched-up supersoldiers to try and stop us."
"Point." Gwen nodded. "Was she always like this, since you gave her powers?"
I watched Giselle whip Chuck's arm up, trap it with her body, and jab the knife painfully into
his armpit. Chuck tapped with a roar of approval, and Giselle released him with a flushed grin on her
face. They went at it a couple more times as I considered Gwen's question.
"I think she's gotten stronger," I said. "Almost like she's growing into it."
"Interesting," Gwen said thoughtfully.
"Definitely the case with the stealth thing," I said. "So it might be a case of adjusting to it,
getting used to the powers. Or maybe they just strengthen the more that you use them."
"Which would make sense," Gwen said. "Look at the Big Three. They were the first of the
supers, first for Pinnacle, and they're the ones in the S-tier. Everyone else is trying to get up to their
level inside the company, but most don't get the opportunity to use their powers nearly as much in the
open. They've all got covers to maintain, and they have to keep out of the public eye to avoid their
fans."
"Rough time for celebrities," I said.
"Especially if their heads are exploding," Gwen agreed.
She turned her eyes back to the training partners in front of her, and I saw her shift from foot to
foot, like she was raring to get in and test herself.
I called time and gave Gwen a cheeky push on the ass to propel her onto the mats. Gwen shot
me a grateful look as Chuck extracted himself from Giselle. Rubbing his neck, the giant shot her a
grin full of admiration.
"Damn, girl," he said. "You're a quick study."
"Appreciate getting to use you as a punching bag," Giselle rallied back.
Chuck joined my side as my two superpowered partners-in-crime faced off against each other.
Giselle raised the knife with an unspoken question, but Gwen told her to keep it, and prowled around
her in a half-circle. Chuck huffed a laugh as he squatted down at the edge of the mat.
"Keep it civil, ladies," he called out. "We've got things to do later, and we don't want anyone
losing an eye or breaking a bone. Just play, nothing too intensive."
Gwen, to my surprise, nodded at that, but Giselle looked unsure.
"Be polite and you'll be fine," I told her with a grin.
"How do you be polite when you're training to kill someone?"
"Like this," Gwen said and pounced.
Giselle swept her eyes back to Gwen with a yelp, slid her feet back, and struck. But Gwen had
already changed levels and gone low. Giselle missed Gwen by a few inches.
The tattooed blonde rammed into her leg, swept out the other one with her own, and tackled her
to the ground. Giselle ripped her knife down at Gwen, but the leader of the Basement rolled off her,
and the dull blade smacked into the cushioned mats without any effect.
Gwen stood and backed up with a grin, and Giselle pulled herself up to her feet with wariness in
her eyes.
Chuck and I sat back to watch them work with grins on our faces.
It was pretty obvious that Gwen had the better training, and that Giselle had the better physical
attributes. Gwen treated the knife as the threat that it was, and did her best to close the distance only
when she had Giselle's blade isolated or out of the danger zone. But Giselle's flexibility, reach, and
sharp hand-eye coordination made it challenging for the smaller woman to close in where she had the
advantage.
I glanced at Chuck as Gwen shot in for another takedown. "You train her yourself?"
"Whatever gives you that idea?" he asked innocently.
I thumped his arm, where a familiar dragon tattoo snaked over his skin. "She's got a tattoo a lot
like that one, and you knew proper tradition when you got onto the mat. Old-school BJJ guys know
that stuff, and now that I see how she scraps--"
"You're sharp, Dean," Chuck said with a grin. "Yeah, I taught her."
"So you were the first merc she hired?"
"Sure was. She needed a bodyguard, back then, especially when Pinnacle was breathing down
her neck. Gwen figured it was a waste of my talents, and got me to train her so she could look after
herself, for the most part. Hoo, d'you see that?"
Gwen and Giselle detached themselves from each other, and Gwen fired up off her hands in a
donkey-kick, straight to Giselle's gut. The gymnast flipped into a one-handed backward handspring,
effortlessly, and landed on her knees with her practice knife at the ready. Gwen's eyes widened as she
scrambled to get back to her feet, but Giselle wasn't having any of it.
She caught the other woman in the ribs with her faux-blade, and Gwen raised her hands in
surrender. The two of them found their feet, just as Gwen's phone went off in her pocket.
Gwen raised her hand to halt Giselle, answered it, then flipped it over into speakerphone.
"Got you what you needed, boss," Billy's voice crackled.
"Give us the details," Gwen ordered.
"It's not good," Billy assured her. "Everything you described, absolutely in play. The drones are
all on a hive-mind AI, which means that they're going to be adapting to our patterns when we're trying
to knock them out of the sky. Looks like the camera lattice is difficult to mess with from the outside,
too, but we're looking into ways around that." Billy paused. "Dean, you sure about this?"
"Dead certain," I assured him. "Found a place with decent cover?"
"Plenty, but the wall's the issue. If it was just a normal fence, we'd be fine. But it's brick, and it
looks reinforced. Getting over it is going to be fucking painful. Razor the whole way around, and
more besides. You'd need a ladder, or a way to fly, to get through the stuff. And they'd probably see
you coming anyway."
"Guards strike you as serious types?"
"Hard to see through all their fucking armor, but yes. I don't want to get into a shootout with
these guys. If I had rifles like them, maybe. But this isn't going to be a picnic no matter how you slice
it."
"What about the outside distraction?" Giselle asked.
"Got that already sorted. Couple of enthusiastic nerds are going to play around with Pinnacle's
comm frequencies at the other side of town. Nothing serious, but annoying enough that they'll
probably have to send people over to check it out."
"So we can count on the Big Three keeping out of our faces?" I asked.
"It's a calculated risk if anything," Gwen said, "but I think it'll be enough."
"Have you met this guy?" Chuck asked. "Not sure he believes in anything else."
"When do you want to move, Gwen?" Billy asked.
Gwen glanced at me for a moment, and then her face hardened into a determined mask.
"1400 hours," she said. "The sooner we get this done and put it behind us, the sooner we can
focus on keeping our heads down and letting Pinnacle spin their wheels to try to find us."
Billy swore quietly under his breath, but he didn't argue. "Roger that. See you then."
He ended the call, and Chuck clapped his hands together in the short, sharp silence that
followed. A huge grin split his face, and the damned expression was contagious. Giselle and I joined
him, but Gwen's face stayed as a hard mask.
She knew it wasn't going to be easy, and that our plan was borderline insanity.
But it'd work.
I had a dedicated crew, plenty of firepower, the element of continued surprise, and superpowers
at my fingertips. Pinnacle might have had all the supers in the world, but they were self-interested. All
they cared about was looking good, and consolidating their control over the citizens of Empyrion.
From what I'd seen, they didn't know the first thing about working toward a common goal. We'd
used that against them with minimal casualties on our side, and if being bold had worked for us
before, it'd continue to work for us.
We headed toward the table, and Chuck vanished into the back rooms to find us new sets of
body armor. I found a double-edged knife for Giselle with a decent sheath, put a couple of guns
together for Gwen and myself, and collected the right belts and rigs to add to a harness.
Gwen said something about stopping by at Billy's place for some extra gear, and half an hour
later, we were on our way up to the warehouse that shrouded Chuck's base of operations.
It was time to stick our thumb into Pinnacle's eye yet again.

Chapter 27
Two hours passed fast, and Giselle and I found ourselves parked outside the walled manor
estate. My partner's knee bounced impatiently as she worked out her jitters and the two grandes she'd
put away.
We'd made casual, surface conversation for an hour or two, but it always looped back around to
patience and how important it was. Giselle wasn't cut out for stakeouts. She was too much of a self-
motivated go-getter, and I knew that she'd have been over the wall and into the property in under a
minute if I'd given her the go-ahead.
"We're in position," Billy's voice whispered through my earpiece. "Let us know when you want
to get this clusterfuck started."
"Gwen?" I asked.
"Set up and ready," she affirmed. "Got eyes on five guards, moving past the east gate. Say the
word, and I'll drop them."
"Keep us posted," I said.
Giselle met my eyes with an excited grin, but I gestured for her to relax, raised my fingers to
my ear, and kicked off our mission in earnest.
"Go, Billy."
"Moving."
I sat back in the driver's seat of our borrowed, Basement-spec sedan, and waited. Giselle craned
her neck to try and see what was going on over the wall, but she needn't have bothered. If we did this
right, we wouldn't even see what Billy and Javier had in mind.
Soft whump sounds echoed over the comms, and I noted a few flying specks above the manor.
They dropped out of the sky like stones.
Javier and Billy had kept tight-lipped about their intended tactics, but they were taking care of
the most important defense that the compound had against us--sightlines. With the drones out of the
sky, we'd have a much easier time approaching on foot.
"We going?" Giselle asked.
"Check your gear," I suggested. "We've got a while to wait yet."
I took my own advice and triple-checked the gear that Billy and Chuck had offered us for this
mission. The super-stopper sat in a dedicated holster on my thigh, and I had a 5.7 strapped above it.
Billy had made the rounds himself, and said that they were designed to punch through just about any
rifle-grade body armor. Chuck had offered me a bigger gun, something with an actual barrel and big-
boy rounds, but I'd turned it down.
A wide-bladed combat knife sat on the other side of my belt, and one of Billy's wonder-vests sat
tightly around my chest. The bulletproof turtleneck and trousers were back, and I had a balaclava
rolled up over my head, ready to deploy once we left the car.
I'd taken a moment to load up a new power at Billy's place. Speedburst was one of Bullrush's
powers, and given how fast we wanted to get in and out of Pinnacle's compound, I'd figured it was
time to give it a test-drive.
Giselle went over her own gear. She had the long-bladed dagger on her hip and a compact 9mm
beside it. Once more, her curves had been squeezed into those amazing, tightly fitting clothes that
helped her blend into the shadows. The sun was high in the sky, and I didn't expect that she'd find too
much cover once we hit the compound, but it was just as bulletproof as the vest she wore.
Once you added up her additional Resilience and natural agility, she'd be a damn hard target to
hit, and that was what we were counting on.
"Under fire," Chuck reported shortly. "Deploying smoke."
"Gwen, thin them out for us," I instructed.
An explosion of noise echoed from the east of the compound in reply.
Go time.
 I pulled the mask down over my face and Giselle did the same. We pushed the doors of the car
open and stepped out onto the street just outside the Manor's south wall.
No entrances on this side, which worked for us, but it was a long run without cover up to the
building's main terrace garden. Giselle and I hustled across the road as quickly and smoothly as we
could, until we reached the eight-foot wall of red brick and pointy wire. A wide park stretched out
behind where we'd left the car, and fancy houses sat tall and proud in the distance.
Gwen's shots would have already alerted the local authorities, which tightened our window, but
I was confident we could get what we needed fast enough.
"Gwen," I said. "Give the south wall a love tap."
"Incoming," she warned quietly.
Another rumbling blast echoed out over the manor, and a chunk of wall ten yards to our left
blew outward like a frag grenade. Masonry and dust clouded the air, and the razor wire snapped out in
both directions like runaway bullwhips. It left an ugly, cracked hole in the wall, and gave us our entry
point.
Giselle sprinted toward it, and I raced after her. Something shifted subtly in my pace about four
strides in, and the world blurred around me. I cannoned effortlessly past Giselle's loping stride and
skidded to a halt beside the broken wall two seconds ahead of her. I blinked at the sudden burst of
speed, and a grin stretched out under my mask.
It felt as if my sprint had just shifted up a gear, giving me access to a greater amount of speed. I
widened my stance, laced my hands together, and Giselle sprang up into my joined hands. I wrenched
upward with every muscle in my back and shoulders, propelling her up to the hole in the wall like a
rocket. She vaulted effortlessly over it, through the snapped wire.
I jumped up onto the wall, planted a foot on it, and kicked myself upward on the friction. My
hands found the cracked edges of the wall. I hauled myself up to the top of the wall and dropped down
six feet, breaking my fall with a rapid shoulder roll.
Inside, I found Giselle close to my left and scanned our new surroundings.
Thick, well-maintained gardens stretched out around us. A tiny stream raced over rocks off to
the right, and well-trimmed shrubs and tall trees obscured us from the house, for now. I hadn't spotted
a single camera yet, but I couldn't bank on hope, here.
We scythed through the undergrowth, snuck past tree trunks and ruined five years of perfectly
good horticulture, until we hit the edge of the garden. A massive law opened up in front of us,
probably a quarter of a mile long and wide.
The massive manor house loomed up above a wide, terraced garden. It looked like a
modernized version of Downton Abbey, all soaring brick and beautiful arches, rife with windows and
green ivy.
Sunlight caught on silvery armor in the distance, on the terrace. Four of the exo-skeletal guards
swept their smart-rifles over the grounds in an obvious panic.
Giselle met my eye with a nod. We broke out of our cover and sprinted straight for them.
"South terrace, Gwen. Got a line of sight?" I asked as I ran.
"More than enough," she replied. "Sending."
The guards fixed on our position, dropped to a knee, and lined us up with their space-guns.
Another thunderous blast echoed out from the west, and two of the guys disintegrated into clouds of
steel filings and salsa.
They might have been armored, but there was only so much you could do about a grenade that
flew like a rifle bullet. The others fell back, horrified, while Giselle and I powered over the grass like
Olympic sprinters.
 Another tremor hit my muscles, and I mentally kicked my pace up a couple of gears. The grass
turned into another blur. I piled on the momentum, until I was speeding like a prized racing stallion.
I tore the 5.7 out of my belt as I left the lawn behind me, diving over a hedge. I'd misjudged the
sheer velocity of my run, and I hit the ground into a viciously rough roll that tore the breath out of my
lungs. Twigs and leaves flew as a hedge caught my crash. I swore quietly and bullied my way through
it.
Paved footpaths spiraled out around us, flanked by tall green walls. While the hedges wouldn't
do shit to stop a rifle round, they gave us concealment from the armored soldiers.
I peeped up over the shrubbery, just in time to catch Gwen vaporizing the third guy, and tracked
a quick path through the terrace garden.
Giselle joined my side as I took the fastest way up to the main platform of polished wood and
concrete. She tore her knife out of her belt as she advanced. I hung back, covered the last, panicked
guy in armor, and watched Giselle go to work.
He fired off a couple of poorly-aimed shots, which whipped past her black-clad form. At the last
moment, she dropped into a baseball slide. Giselle hit the guy's legs like a runaway truck, bowling him
over to the ground, and she pounced on him like a tigress.
Her knife shone glinted for half a second, and she drove the pointed blade home under his
helmet. Scarlet fountained onto her gloves, but Giselle didn't so much as blink. She ripped the blade
free, scrambled to her feet, and swung her gaze around another target.
Goddamn, she was a perfect balance of hot, dangerous, and professional.
I suppressed the sudden burst of need that swept through my nervous system and angled myself
toward the south entrance to the manor. We dodged past mighty pillars of brick. Irnoging the cameras
above us, we arrived at the main door.
Giselle pressed her hand over the holographic interface that passed as a lock. The door clicked
open a second later thanks to her Lock Breach ability.
"Breaching the house," I reported.
"Nice work, Giselle," Gwen replied. "Quick and clean."
"Billy?"
A crackle of static peppered with gunfire came over the comms as Chuck's voice checked in.
Gunfire roared off to the east side of the manor, but we were shielded from the worst of it. The acrid
smell of cordite and smoke thickened as the A-team kept the guards busy.
"We've got them spooked. Looks like they're bringing reinforcements."
"Keep 'em busy," I said. "We'll be in and out as fast as we can."
"Good hunting," Javier said fiercely.
I kept my 5.7 close to my chest as Giselle and I swept into Pinnacle's fancy manor-prison.

Chapter 28
The mansion was all wood-paneled walls, expensive carpet, and mahogany furniture. It
reminded me of Gwen's apartment building, but I had a distinct feeling everything here had been
meticulously maintained for decades. It had that whiff of antique mustiness to it.
I swept the first room, checked the corners, and found nothing. The space was some kind of
sunroom, with ancient chintz sofas and low-sitting coffee tables, but no steel-troopers hiding behind a
bookshelf.
We stepped through to an eight-foot wide hallway, which branched off in both directions. I
quickly recalled the map that my dad had sent through to us, and noted the grand stairs on our right.
 "Hit the control center and kill the cameras," I said.
"On it," Giselle replied. "Holler if you need help."
We gave each other a nod before breaking off in different directions.
My gaze swept tirelessly over the corridors, logging in details and landmarks, but I met no sign
of resistance. I took the red-carpeted stairs three at a time. Speedburst shifted gears, and I raced up to
the first landing in a little under a second and a half. I swung my pistol around to cover the top of the
stairs, found nothing, and lunged up the second flight effortlessly.
By now, my legs should have been screaming at me, but all I could feel was the steady, sweet
stream of adrenaline.
Damn, it felt good having superpowers.
I hit the top of the stairs, hugged a corner, and quickly peeked the hallway on both sides. Piper's
room was on the left, blocked off by three of the armored soldiers.
Their helmets were stylized with cruel, slanted eyes, and hydraulics hissed as they strolled over
the carpet and swept the corridor for any threats. Hoping that Billy was right about the AP rounds, I
swung out of cover to confront Pinnacle's meat shields.
The Tin Men got eyes on me too late.
I drilled the first guy in the neck with a round. Half of his throat splattered over his closest
friend and the rest painted the expensive walls and carpet in blood. His rifle went off in his hand,
stitched up the carpet beside my feet, and confirmed my belief that Pinnacle only hired second-class.
I kept up a rolling stride. Calmly, I drew a bead on the next guy as he wiped gore off his visor
and shot him in the head. The round skated off his helmet, snapped his head back, and bounced him
off the wall.
The third guy dropped to a knee to find a more stable shooting platform, but the movement cost
him a precious second. My third shot slammed into his leg, just a handspan short of his groin. The guy
buckled into the carpet.
One down, two stunned, with fifteen feet of hallway between us.
Rifles exploded in the closed space between us. I threw myself into the wall on my right, and
the hail of death whipped past me, boring holes in antique decor.
I peeked and landed my fourth shot into the Tin Man No. 2's arm, just shy of the elbow. His gun
went wide. He let off another chattering blast of bullets, which tore into the brick wall. Dust showered
the hallway.
The exo-suits were excellent pieces of engineering, and the armor was tough as hell. But they
had their chinks, and I was used to shooting small, moving targets.
I went for another throat shot on the third guy, but his rifle got in the way. Bullets tracked my
position, biting through brick and wood. I never stopped moving. Between covers, I squeezed off
carefully-aimed shots at every weak point I could see. Joints, legs, throats. I didn't hit anything
critical, but I didn't really need to.
All I wanted was to close the distance.
I leapt over the first guy's prone form, ignored the squelch of bloodsoaked carpet, and smashed
into the second armored figure. I whacked the butt of my pistol down on his wrist to force the barrel of
his gun away from my face, and trapped his arm with my free hand. As he struggled, I rested my pistol
on his shoulder and served the third guy another AP round in the face.
The helmets must have been made out of diamond, because it didn't penetrate. However, it did
send the guy reeling as if I'd socked him in the face with a sledgehammer.
Tin Man No. 2 planted his feet and swung his trapped arm toward the wall. My feet lifted off as
his machine-augmented strength kicked in, and he smashed me into the wall like a rag-doll.
 Breath punched out of my lungs as my back crashed into brick. I held on for dear life as he
fought to control his balance and punched him in the visor with the barrel of my 5.7. He jerked,
raising his other hand to take my head off.
Dropping my pistol, I narrowly ducked underneath a punch that rammed a dinner-plate-sized
crater in the wall behind me. I drew the combat knife from my waist and stuck the point up under his
unarmored left arm. The black steel punched through wires and hydraulics. Flesh and ligaments
snapped. The blade came away coated in blood.
The Tin Man roared in pain. He released his grip on his smart-rifle and shoved me off him with
a forearm smash that forced stars into my vision. I crashed into Piper's door and spun off it with a
curse.
The wounded soldier advanced on me with his left arm hanging uselessly by his side. I snaked
instinctively back to my feet. I reversed my grip on the blade, held it up in a basic boxer's stance,
gesturing for him to come and get me.
"All that armor makes you pretty slow," I taunted. "I've seen kindergarteners who hit faster than
you. And aim better, too. What's the point of all the gear if you can't do anything with it?"
"Oh, I'll do something with it, motherfucker," the Tin Man snarled.
As he lurched toward me, I angled my back to the door I needed to breach. He adjusted on the
fly, drew his arm back, and hurled into a superman punch with hundreds of pounds of force and tech
behind it.
I dipped my head into my shoulder, bent my knees, and drove my blade upward as he crashed
into me. The full weight of the exo-suit rammed against the reinforced steel door. The door hissed
open, just as the rest of his weight crashed into my upper body. Momentum drove us both through it in
a twisting mass of steel, blood, and wires.
Tin Man No. 2 weighed half a ton, but I was so jacked on adrenaline and instinctive, gut-level
fear that I didn't notice.
I ripped my knife free of his other armpit, arched my spine as hard as I could, and managed to
roll the wounded soldier up off my chest. He tried to lift an arm to finish me, but it only caused wires
to spark and blood to gush twice as fast. Pulling into a half-crouch, I shredded the soft tissue of his
throat with a short, vicious stab. With a satisfied snarl, I yanked the knife out of the mass of wires.
I glanced behind me and found Piper Cervantes staring at me in abject horror.
She was a trim, early-twenties girl with silvery-blue eyes which contrasted sharply with dusky
skin and long, pin-straight black hair. She was half-dressed in a long, loose t-shirt which barely fell to
mid-thigh, and came off a shoulder to bare even more skin.
Piper slapped a hand over her mouth to stop a scream as I flicked blood off my combat knife,
and turned back to the door.
The third Tin Man had to be up on his feet by now. I couldn't run the risk of Piper catching a
stray bullet, so I took up a position beside the open door, my blade at the ready. I raised a finger to my
lips with a glance at Piper and jerked my head toward the bed.
She shrunk back onto her bedspread without a word, her hand still over her mouth, and I waited
for the third soldier to appear.
The barrel of a rifle appeared first, so close to me that my breath caught in my throat. The Tin
Man slid into view, an inch at a time. I adjusted my knife, waiting for the right moment.
Suddenly, he froze.
The strips of light on his rifle blinked out, and he sagged forward in a half-step, as if his suit had
turned half-a-ton of scrap-metal.
"Systems out," Giselle announced over the comms.
 I smashed a hammer-fist down onto the barrel of the rifle, smacked it down toward the floor,
and hit the powered-down soldier like a bull. He couldn't have stopped me if he'd wanted to, and I
finished him with a rapid series of strikes. I took his throat with a brutal sawing motion, then rammed
the point down into the soft flesh behind his breastplate.
A river of blood spewed out of his ruined neck, and I planted a foot on the armor. I heel-kicked
the Tin Man back into the hallway with a grunt of effort. Done, I wiped the knife on my sleeve and
dropped it smoothly back into its sheath.
My attention returned back to Piper, who lifted a hand, as if to ward off my attack.
"We're getting you out," I said.
She lowered her hand, and her voice came out in a panicked squeak.
"You're what?"
"Getting you out of here, one way or the other," I said. "We've got the guards distracted. You're
coming with us, it's just a matter of whether or not it's conscious."
Piper stiffened at my not-so-subtle threat of violence. "Who do you think you are?"
"I'm a lot of things, princess, but right now, patient isn't one of them." I double-checked the
door and lifted my fingers back to my earpiece. "Gwen, status?"
"Had to relocate. Got the girl?"
"Working on it," I fired back. "Can you cover us on the south side?"
"Easy enough. Give me a minute and a half."
"We're pulling back," Chuck cut in. "It's too heavy over here."
"On my way up to you," Giselle reported.
I turned back to Piper. She'd raised up a solid-looking chair, and had its legs pointed toward me
like a four-pronged spear.
Hands high to show her that I was unarmed, I took a slow step forward. I could have blitzed in
and taken the chair from her without an issue, but even then, Piper was still a super, with all of their
famed toughness and strength. She could probably wrap the thing around my head without too much
trouble.
"Listen, my name's Dean," I explained. "You've got information we need, and you'll do a lot
more good with it outside of this place than inside it."
"They'll kill me if you don't," Piper stammered.
My mind flashed back to the last time I pressed a Pinnacle super for information.
I didn't know if Piper had been fitted with a dead-man's switch, either, but I couldn't afford to
take the risk of her saying something and having her head explode. But without pressing her, I couldn't
get her to cooperate, either.
What about my own powers? I could drain her of her abilities, and make her a regular human. It
was a long shot, but if she didn't have powers, maybe Piper would be safe from the same trigger I'd
seen in Darkstalker.
I took another slow, calm step forward, meeting her terrified gaze as I lifted my mask up from
my features. Her eyes widened at the sight of my face, and terror turned into stunned recognition. The
chair dipped a couple of inches, and I pushed into my Speedburst ability.
The room blurred around me. I knocked the chair aside and restrained her before she could
react. My arm trapped hers, and I caught hold of her thigh and pressed her into the wall.
Piper shrank back into the wall, shocked, her eyes fixed on my face.
We stayed there for a small eternity.
A window flickered up in my vision after a moment.
 Transfer Completed

Subject's Powers Added

Healing Hands

Reinforce Allies

I stared at the screen for a moment. I'd only ever seen supers with powers that came in threes.
Piper was a different kind of super--or, she had been. I released the girl when I heard Giselle clear her
throat pointedly behind us.
"Am I interrupting something?" she asked innocently.
"Nothing at all," Piper said quickly. "You need to leave, and now."
"You're coming with us," Giselle said, and her tone brewed no argument. "We've invested a lot
of time and bullets into this, and they'll be wasted if you don't come along."
"You don't understand," Piper pleaded. "I know things. I know too much about them, and if they
find out that I've escaped, they'll hunt me down and kill me."
"Join the club," I said. "We're the ones who've been causing them hell in the last couple of days.
So buck up, princess. Get some pants, and let's get the fuck out of here before the calvary arrives."
"You're Basement?" Piper asked, astonished.
"Partnered with them. And trust me, they're the good guys right now."
Piper hesitated for a single, long second, but her eyes dropped to the corpse of the Tin Man on
her carpet, and something hardened her. She tore open a wardrobe cupboard, found a pair of tracksuit
pants, and hauled them up around her hips.
I turned back to Giselle, who offered me my AP 5.7 butt-first, and I took it with an appreciative
nod.
"What is it that you know that's got them so spooked?" Giselle asked before I could stop her.
Piper stepped gingerly over the armored corpse and joined my side.
"Pinnacle knows when the supervillains are going to attack," she whispered.
I half-expected Piper's head to explode right then and there, but when it didn't, I listened
intently to the next words out of her mouth.
"And they let it happen. All of it. All the superheroes, the supervillains, the superpowers.
They're all Pinnacle."

Chapter 29
Giselle and I stared at each other for a long moment as the pieces fell into place. We'd known
that Pinnacle could make their own supers, so it wasn't a huge stretch that they'd unleash their own
brand of supervillain on the unsuspecting populace, and claim the credit for doing so.
My brain ran wheels for a second. It still didn't fit how I had my own superpowers, or how I
could transfer them. A memory of a SilverSky crate back at the Outreach Center popped into my mind,
and I glanced back at Piper.
Dad had reach, unbelievable reach, but to be able to find out about an imprisoned super and get
blueprints for the compound we were in? He had to be involved with Pinnacle somehow to pull that
off.
"It's getting hot out here," Gwen warned us over the comms. "They're slow, but they're trying to
make their way up to the house to stop you."
"Time to leave," I said and shoved my questions into the back of my mind.
I led the way, with my 5.7 raised and ready. Giselle prowled at my side, her knife tucked against
the inside of her arm with a reverse grip.
Eyes wide and gait trembling, Piper crept up behind us. She was shit-scared, and I couldn't say I
blamed her.
The corridor was clear, and we hit the stairs as a unit. I covered the base of the stairs as the two
girls stepped down to the ground level and pulled up on their rear as we pushed our way out the back
door and onto the terrace.
Four Tin Men struggled to bring their useless rifles to bear on us as we appeared. But before
any guns could level with us, I simply raised my pistol and dropped two of them with clean throat
shots. They collapsed in heaps of steel and blood, and I checked our rear.
"Billy? Chuck?" I asked.
"Guards are incapacitated," Chuck reported. "Drones are out of the sky, and the cameras look
like they're down. We're falling back to a safe house. How's the package? Hanging in there?"
"Slightly to the left, if you must know," I said, "but otherwise fine."
Gwen snorted through the comms, and another Tin Man burst apart in a shower of metal and
gore as she sent a bunker-busting round into his side.
The last guy tried to rip a pistol out of a holster, but Giselle already had his number. She raced
across the terrace with long, loping strides, vaulted over a hedge, and pounced into him like a lioness.
The last Tin Man collapsed as she rode him into the grass, tearing his throat out with a quick, efficient
motion, and, just as smoothly, untangled herself from the skeletal exo-armor.
Piper sucked in a breath behind us, and I took her arm and pulled her down one of the
pathways.
"Repositioning," Gwen reported. "I'll have you covered from the south side in a minute. Terrain
here isn't good for sight-lines."
"Roger," I said, and halted beside one of the fallen Tin Men.
I snatched the rifle from the corpse and made a mental note to pass it onto Billy when I next
saw him. The smart-rifles were obviously coded to Pinnacle's armored enforcers, but I had a feeling
that the gun-wizard could reverse-engineer the thing and figure out how they worked, at the very least.
I swept my gaze over the wide lawn that led down to the south-bound garden, and my spine
locked up as I found a singular figure on the lawn.
I tried to move, but my legs gave out from under me, and I collapsed onto the grass, completely
paralyzed. The 5.7 fell from my fingers, and Piper crashed down next to me, her jaw locked tightly
and her gaze wide and terrified. I tried to force out a word through my teeth, but all I could manage
was a strangled grunt.
"What the fuck--" Giselle started.
The figure out on the lawn strolled breezily up toward us. I could see his outline, a long black
coat with stylized chains stitched into his lapels and the lining of his jacket. A simple domino mask hid
all but his mouth, and heavy combat boots shrouded his feet.
I tried to move, even just a finger, but my whole body was locked up as if someone had just
rammed an electrical charge straight into my motor functions.
Giselle dropped like a stone beside us.
 All three of us were paralyzed.
Deep and primal panic rippled through my body.
I fixed my eyes on the approaching figure. It had to be a super. I couldn't think of any other
reason why I was pinned to the ground like gravity had just decided to crank itself up a dozen notches.
"Fucking hell, this is a mess, isn't it?" the super asked, in a thick British accent.
He came to a halt about ten feet away from us, and his maddening grin widened.
"So you're the pair who's been causing us so much trouble. Bit off a bit more than you could
chew, yeah?" He kept his eyes on all three of us. "Piper, darling, you really shouldn't have gone with
them. You know you'll be punished for that, naughty girl."
Piper let free a strangled sob.
"And who's the slinky piece over here?" he asked. "Pretty gorgeous for a terrorist, I have to
admit. Shame we had to meet like this, it really is."
"Fuck you," Giselle snarled through gritted teeth.
The super's smile widened. "Oh, yes, please."
My brain shifted gears as I took in the situation.
The super hadn't made a move to kill us, yet, but he was obviously the source of our collective
paralysis. His eyes weren't on any of us in particular. It looked like he was fighting to keep all of us in
focus, and not pay too much attention to one of us at a time. Did his ability require direct line-of-
sight? Was that how he was keeping us on the ground? Some kind of body-freezing vision?
"We've got a few minutes before the others get here," the super said, "so I may as well get this
out of the way. I know Piper doesn't have it in her to plan something like this. She's too soft. And for
all of your tight leather, love, I don't think you're the brains behind this either. Which leaves you,
mate."
The invisible boot on my vocal cords lifted, and feeling sprang back into my throat.
"Why don't you tell me why you've been making such a fucking mess here?" he asked.
"Alternative performance art," I managed. "I'm all about moving pictures and expressing myself
through wanton acts of destruction, high fashion, and large quantities of go-fuck-yourself."
The super lifted an eyebrow.
"Pretty eloquent for a terrorist," the super said.
"I took elocution lessons," I said. "Said it'd make me more marketable."
"Piper," our attacker said, "you didn't call these people here, did you?"
"No," she whispered. "They found me."
"Now how would they have known where to look? You sure you didn't tip them off? Send them
a little SOS? You can be honest with me, love. You should be honest with me. Because you know the
kinds of things I can do if you're not honest."
"Lockdown, please," Piper begged. "I don't know them. I don't know what they're here to do."
"Grow a spine," Giselle growled.
"But you still left your room, even when you had specific instructions not to," the super said.
"Why would you side with the bad guys over us, Piper? What made you want to do that?"
"Because we're not the good guys," she said. "We can't be. Not if we're not saving people."
"We save people all the time. I'm saving you, right now. From the consequences of your own
actions." Lockdown leered at her. "And trust me, I expect some fucking gratitude."
"Dean, status?" Chuck whispered in my ear.
I didn't say a word. I couldn't afford to let this lunatic know that I was wired in, not until Gwen
was set up and ready to take a shot at his unarmored head. But I fucking hated the way that this
Lockdown character spoke.
 "Hey, bargain-bin BDSM model," I said. "Do you have to use your powers on every girl you
take a fancy to? Is that the only way they'll actually let you get close? Because let me tell you, most
people would see that coat and just run in the other direction."
Lockdown's eyes flared. "What did you say to me?"
"Seriously, man. Whoever is designing your outfits needs a raise, because they're not helping
with your PR. A super called Lockdown who paralyzes people? Really? They had to go with chains
and leather? Why didn't they just make you a disposable villain? Seems like a better direction,
thematically."
Lockdown's nostrils flared, and he turned his full attention to me.
Giselle stirred subtly beside me, and I saw Piper wriggle her toes with a surprised hiss.
The super stalked forward, and my nerves screamed out as something lit them on fire. Instinct
made me want to writhe, but I couldn't move an inch, and I couldn't stop the scream that ripped out of
my throat.
I'd been through pain before, but this was something else.
The world turned into a mass of gray and red streaks, and my senses muted to a whisper under
the all-encompassing, thought blurring, pain. I clenched my teeth to try and swallow the wounded
animal in my brain from howling its agony out for the world to hear.
"I think I've heard enough lip from you, mate," Lockdown growled.
Another choked cry ripped its way out of my chest, but I'd given Giselle the opening she
needed.
She whipped out her compact 9mm, took a deep breath, and settled the sights on Lockdown's
flank. The drills I'd stuck in her head earlier paid off. She didn't rush. Calmly and methodically, she
aimed at his chest and fired three shots. The bullets slammed into his coat, didn't penetrate, and
Lockdown whipped his head to stare her into the ground.
Giselle screamed, dropped the gun in her hand as if it was white-hot, and collapsed. She
convulsed in agony, her body twisting up into a horrific arch. Lockdown licked his lips at the sight.
"Oh, she's got some fight left in her," Lockdown murmured. "I like that."
The pressure and the pain vanished from my body, as quickly as they'd come, and Gwen's voice
whispered in my ear a moment later.
"Fuck, Dean, what've you gotten yourself into?"
"Drop him," I snarled.
"Sure you don't want him alive?" Gwen asked.
The more rational part of my brain ran the numbers. If I could get close enough to Lockdown, I
could steal his powers, blow off his kneecaps, and leave him to die in agony on the grass.
It seemed like the best long-term option. But all he had to do was rest his eyes on us, and he
could tie us up in knots of pain. It was an insane power to have, and if I was honest, it'd have been
useful.
But Giselle's screams went up an octave, and I dismissed the thought instantly.
This guy had screwed with my people, and everything coming out of his mouth made me want
to kill him more than humiliate him, to just delete him from this world.
Besides, we were on a clock to get Piper clear. She had information we needed, and if any other
supers arrived, we'd be fighting a losing battle.
Fuck this guy and fuck him now.
"I'm certain. Take his head off."
Lockdown's gaze swiveled back to me. "The fuck did you say?"
My body froze again, but I grinned up at him with murder in my eyes.
 "Hasta la vista. Bitch."
His eyes flared with hatred.
Untold agony blitzed into my nervous system. I screamed bloody murder, until the sound of a
distant gunshot echoed through my pain.

Chapter 30
Gwen's monster round pulverized its way through Lockdown's spine, cut clean through his
heavy coat, and scrambled his torso into fist-sized chunks of meat. Bloody, slippery organs, and brain
matter showered in the air, and the truncated remains of his body crashed into the grass.
The pain vanished.
Forcing my groggy limbs back online, I hauled myself to my feet. Piper was a shivering mess,
but I caught hold of her arm and dragged her up until she got her feet under her. Giselle sprang up off
the grass on her own.
The three of us sprinted over the lawn, toward the compromised chunk of wall to the south.
We covered the ground in a little under half a minute. Gwen waited for us in the garden behind
the sights of her monster rifle. She pulled herself to her feet, slung the huge gun over her shoulder, and
led the way back to the wall.
I boosted Giselle up and over it with a quick snap of my hands, and then gestured for Piper to
step up onto my leg to do the same. She looked pale and trembled so hard I was amazed she could still
stay on her feet.
"You-you killed him," she stammered.
"You're upset about that?" I asked, incredulous.
"No, but--"
"Dean, no time," Gwen snapped.
Piper took a deep, steadying breath and stepped into my outstretched hands. I boosted her up to
the wall. She scrambled over the broken bricks, awkwardly, and vanished over the top of it.
Gwen tossed her enormous rifle over with casual ease, leapt up under her own steam, and
vaulted over without any need for my help. I followed her and broke my fall with a roll.
Demonic buzzing filled the air behind us.
"Drones," Giselle breathed. "They must've come back online."
"We'll split them and draw them off," Gwen said. "Head to the safe house. We'll see you
tomorrow. It's about as safe as anywhere in the city can be right now."
"Appreciate the assist," I said.
Gwen ran off around the corner of the manor's walls for her car over on the west side.
Giselle and I blitzed across the road with Piper in tow, and once again, Giselle showed excellent
tactical sense. She pulled the passenger door open for Piper, who ducked into the sedan like a scared
rabbit, and then took up her own seat behind her.
My mind flashed back to our ride with Chuck and Billy back to their base, and a surge of
appreciation for Giselle's sharp mind flickered all the way down to my toes. I slid into the driver's seat,
tossed the smart rifle into the back seat, and got the car started. I pulled the sedan away from our
parking, when something flapped against the window.
An honest-to-god parking ticket flicked off my windscreen.
255 dollars, for parking without displaying a valid permit.
It took all of my self-control not to watch it shoot past my window.
"Holy shit," I breathed. "Even the ticketers are in on it."
 Piper stared at me like a crazy person. "What?"
"Think about it. Explosions going off, gunshots filling the air, and someone's actually got the
balls to ticket me," I said with a huge grin on my face. "That guy either needs a raise, or Pinnacle has
people in every level of civic government."
"Gotta give him credit," Giselle quipped. "Could've gotten messy for him, but he took the risk
and pulled it off."
"Almost feel like I should pay it, given how much that guy risked."
"Lunatics," Piper muttered to herself. "I've been kidnapped by lunatics."
"Not necessarily a kidnapping if you came of your own accord," I pointed out.
"I shouldn't have. I should've just stayed there. Would've been safer."
Giselle glanced at me in the rear-view mirror with sympathy in her eyes.
I softened my tone and took the joking edge out of it. "Piper, listen. You know something that
makes you dangerous to them. Do you really think they were just going to keep you locked up there
forever without a problem?"
Piper's face went white. "They said they'd come and talk to me about it."
"In a reinforced prison guarded by armored supersoldiers?" I asked. "They wanted you gone.
We've been keeping them busy, so maybe that's part of it, but you were a loose end. And from
everything I've seen, Pinnacle doesn't do loose ends."
She didn't meet my eye. "Thanks for that."
"It'll be easier for you if you just accept it," I said quietly. "I know it's probably hard--"
"It's impossible!" Piper snapped. "Pinnacle has been my entire life. I started at eight, for
goodness' sake. They took me, trained me, set up my parents for life. I had friends, I had a job, and I
got to do what I loved for a living. They--" She cut herself off with a hiss and shook her head to
herself. "They betrayed everything they stood for."
"And that was too much for you," Giselle said.
"They're superheroes! They're people with powers, responsibilities!" Piper exploded. "I was,
too. All of us were. We were a family, and I wanted to protect the people of Empyrion. It's all I've ever
wanted. And they took that away from me."
"They'll pay for it, Piper," Giselle promised.
Piper gritted her teeth and turned her eyes to me. "How did you know where to find me? How
have you been running rings around them for the last three days?"
"You heard about that?"
"Even in prison, people talk," she said. "They're losing their minds over this. People who
destroyed the Outreach Center, killed Darkstalker. There's whispers everywhere about you people, and
what you're capable of." Piper wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "You didn't answer my
question. How'd you know where to look?"
I thought about my answer for a moment. "You know Brandon Silver?"
Piper's breath caught in her chest. "Brandon Silver?"
I pressed on the sudden opening. She knew my dad, somehow. "You know him?"
"He reached out to me just before Pinnacle took me in. Said that he wanted to help. I never saw
him, but there's something familiar about your face--"
"Left turn up here," Giselle interrupted.
I spun the wheel and cornered a little too sharply. We whipped down a side street. I heard sirens
in the distance and made sure to slow the car down to a regular, even sleepy pace. I pulled my mask
from my face to wipe some of the noticeable blood off my shoulders and chest before I tossed it onto
the dashboard.
 I scanned the street for the safe house that Gwen had mentioned. Apparently the Basement had
the resources to commandeer a bed and breakfast, and convert it into a hiding spot.
A few cops passed us as we rolled past streets of high-end townhouses, but no one pulled us
over. We reached a gorgeous old building on the corner of a block, tucked away into the suburbs of the
wealthy tech workers of Empyrion.
I pulled the car to a halt outside and took a moment to sweep the street for any followers. No
drones buzzed overhead. The back of my neck didn't prickle in warning about an orbital super-shaped
nuke, but it didn't hurt to be careful.
The bed-and-breakfast was a charming two-story house of red brick, with an actual white-picket
fence and flawlessly-maintained lawns. Roses snaked up around the fence in full bloom. A sign
proudly announced the place as Marci's Bed and Breakfast, the Premier Stay in Queensby.
I swept the street again before I nodded to Giselle. She stepped out of the car, and I nodded to
Piper.
"Go with her. You'll be safe here."
"You can't promise me that," she argued. "Nowhere's safe from them."
"They haven't caught us yet," I said. "And they won't find any records on the cameras, trust me.
Giselle is thorough. We're not exactly out of the woods yet, but they'll have to canvass the entire
suburb. And that's going to take a while."
Piper took a deep breath and got out of the car.
I drove the sedan around the corner, in a private parking section next to Marci's, and stepped out
of it. I moved quickly, with the knowledge that body armor and a thick coating of gore would make
me stand out. I lurked up the alcove next to the back-door for a moment to watch the street, until the
door clicked open. Giselle beckoned me inside.
Marci, whoever she was, had excellent taste. The whole place looked vintage, spotless.
Instantly, a cozy warm settled over me as I walked into the building. The ornate detailing on the
ceilings and wallpaper might have been tacky anywhere else, but the place brought to mind a distant
memory of visiting my grandmother. I could smell coffee, freshly shampooed carpets, and a soft scent
of sandalwood in the air.
Locking up the hefty oak door behind me, I followed Piper and Giselle to a glass-topped dining
table that could have easily sat twelve people at it. I took the chair that gave me the best sight-line
toward the front door, pulled it out, and unstrapped the bulletproof vest from my chest. I placed the
super-stopper and AP pistol on the table, but kept my knife on my thigh.
With a sigh of relief, I dropped into the chair and let myself relax.
Piper took a seat across from me, and I glanced up at Giselle.
"Need a shower?" I asked her.
She groaned in pleasure at the thought. "God, please."
"I've got us covered for the moment, trooper. Make yourself at home."
Giselle snapped off a crisp salute and tapped her heels together. "Yessir."
We exchanged a grin, and she vanished upstairs to find boiling water and scented towels.
Piper's eyes fell to the guns in easy reach of my hands, and she shivered again.
I took a closer look at her, without the insane adrenaline and fear of sudden death in my veins.
She was a stunner. Even in track pants and a loose t-shirt, it was difficult to take my eyes off her. Her
straight black hair was a mess on her shoulders, though her narrow, expressive face was tight with
fear, and her icy-blue eyes flickered everywhere like a cornered animal.
I pushed my glands into the backseat and picked up from where we'd left off.
"So you met my dad," I said.
 "He's your father?"
"Last I checked, yeah."
"I didn't meet him, exactly," Piper said quickly. "I was looking everywhere for a way to talk to
the higher-ups. They don't really have much to do with us, right? And he reached out from one of our
PR firms, said that he could take the story right up to the top. I gave him what I knew, and just like
that, Pinnacle kicked my door down and locked me away."
"How long have you been there?" I asked.
"Two weeks," she said. "Been outside maybe twice."
"Christ," I muttered. "So he had this set up for me before I even got here."
Piper glanced up at me. "How long have you been here?"
"Three days, four? Gets a little blurry when you duck enough bullets."
"Which coincides exactly with the attacks," she noted. "The Basement's known for the
occasional interruptions, messing with our journalists, and blackmail, but they've never been this
trigger-happy before."
"I'm working with them, but they don't own me," I said. "My dad got me into touch with them,
and things kinda spiraled from there. Then he told me to come and find you. Said that you were
important, and that we needed to get you on-side with us."
Piper eyed the guns again. "You've got a weird way of doing that."
"Maybe I'll grow on you," I said with a smile. "I've got some questions."
Piper squared her shoulders. "Guess I owe you that much. Shoot."
"Your powers were healing and helping out other supers, right?"
"Were?" Piper asked.
I exhaled slowly. "Hoo boy, this'll be fun."
"What do you mean, were?" she demanded.
"I stole them," I said bluntly. "That's my own power. It never came up, and I never noticed it
until I started scrapping with supers. I got called an ATM for superpowers, which I guess is pretty
accurate. If I can touch a super, I can steal their powers, and store them."
Piper stared at me in horror. "So it's true? You can do that?"
"Hear about it on the grapevine?"
"Just rumors," she whispered, horrified. "I can't believe this. . . doesn't make any sense."
"Another thing you'll need to accept, but I promise you, there's a reason behind it. But yeah,
that's my thing. And that's the reason that you've got a couple of crippled or dead supers in the last few
days. Pinnacle started it when they sent Darkstalker after me."
Piper pulled her feet up and hugged her knees. "They--"
"Wouldn't do that?" I asked. "After everything you've seen, you really think that?"
She shook her head to herself. "I've been there for two weeks, and I still want to believe that this
is all some massive misunderstanding. That I must've read some propaganda, or that someone was just
messing with me."
"Dad's information on you said that you were in the PR line of work for Pinnacle," I said.
"Which means you must've been able to see through the curtain. How many supers abused their
power? How much dirty laundry did you have to kick under the bed?"
She shook her head. "That wasn't my area. I covered supervillains."
"And once you found out that Pinnacle could control the supply and demand for supervillains, it
didn't line up with what you were selling to the press," I guessed. "And, being someone with integrity,
you decided to do something about it."
"It isn't right," Piper whispered.
 "You're damn right it isn't," I said. "What I don't understand is how they do it, and where the
powers come from in the first place. Common narrative, I've heard, is that you're born with
superhuman abilities, and Pinnacle snaps up the hopefuls when they appear."
"That's right."
"So how do you make a super?" I pressed. "The Outreach Center was a cover for a private
power plant. They strung up six of the people they said they were 'helping', and used them as human
batteries."
Piper looked horrified. "You saw this?"
"Why do you think the place caught fire?" I replied.
"What happened to them?"
"They were beyond saving," I said grimly. "And if they'd gotten loose, they would've killed
dozens of industrial workers in the local area. I took preventative measures, and knocked Scourge out
for good while I was at it. But they weren't regular supers, that much I can tell you. If they were, I
could've taken their powers, left them human. And I couldn't manage it."
"So Pinnacle can make superheroes and supervillains," Piper murmured. "Which means all of it
is artificial. We're essentially glorified lab experiments." She hugged her knees tighter and rocked
back and forth a little. Her face tightened into a mask of horror. "They build us up, and then throw
supervillains out into the world to give us something to do. Like it's all a game of chess."
"And Pinnacle are always the winners," I said. "What'd you do for them?"
"I was one of their models for a while," she said. "I hated it, but it was my in. Once I pushed
past that and my powers developed, they had me running campaigns for them, being an influencer,
and I kept tabs on the press. Had my own stable of journalists and everything." She huffed out a
humorless laugh. "It was my job to make sure people loved Pinnacle. To make sure that they got
excited every time that we showed up. I was always on the back end, healing civilians who'd been
caught in the crossfire of supervillain attacks."
"So how'd you figure out that they were playing you?"
"When one of my supervisors took me out for drinks." Piper shivered. "He let something slip,
something stupid. Said something about the airport being in the near future, and that we'd have to hold
our horses until it was serious enough to justify going in."
"The airport?"
"Yeah. Which made no sense to me. Because how the hell would we know that we were
supposed to be there? Why the airport? I tried to ask him about it, but he stonewalled me. I thought
about it the next morning, worked through the hangover, and realized that he knew people were going
to die. And that we'd be there to pick up the pieces, stop the bad guy, and look good for the cameras."
"What day?" I pressed.
"I don't know," Piper mumbled. "This was three weeks ago. Could be any day now."
"Fuck," I said quietly. "It was bustling when I got here."
"It'll be busier now, after the mess you've made," she said. "You're challenging Pinnacle behind
closed doors, but my guess is that everyone is convinced that there's a major supervillain group
coming at Pinnacle. That's how they'll have spun it."
"And people are scared. They'll want to get the hell out of here."
Piper nodded. "And that makes the airport perfect for them. I couldn't get a sense of when
exactly it was, but he did say that it'd be over the weekend. Tension's high, right now, and breaking me
out will just push their schedule up first. I can't imagine that they're happy about losing face with the
Outreach Center."
"So we've got a doomsday clock now, too. Great." I let a breath hiss through my teeth, glanced
down at my pistols, and ran some rapid numbers. "Not looking good for the home team."
"You've got powers, though, don't you?" Piper asked.
"Sure, sometimes. Depends on the scenario. And I've got a couple of badass girls ready to throw
down against Pinnacle. But that's three of us against an invisible, casualty-heavy threat. And, if it
wasn't enough, we get to play dodgeball with the supers while we're at it."
"Any normal person would be freaking out about it," Piper said.
I let the grin I'd been hiding split my face. "Yeah, they would."
"What are you going to do?"
I met her icy blue eyes. "You wanna do something about Pinnacle? I mean, really do
something?"
"I want to protect the people of this city," Piper said, with the barest hint of steel in her tone.
"That's what I've always wanted. They might've programmed it into my head, turned me into their
pinup girl, and used me to cover up everything they've done. But I'll do anything to help Empyrion's
citizens."
"See anyone else interested in stopping a vague threat?"
Piper's mouth tightened into a hard line. "No."
"So, wanna join the team?"
Her eyes fell to the guns again and met my face. She nodded once.
"I'll help you any way I can. If you really took my powers, it might not be much, but--"
"You've already given us plenty," I assured her. "And I took your powers because I thought your
head might explode. But you've already given the game away, and you're still here, so I'm pretty sure
they haven't got you fitted with a kill-switch."
Piper's eyes flashed with just the right kind of danger. "They can go to hell."
"Welcome aboard." I laughed. "Now let's figure out how to stop the biggest terrorist attack in
the city's history, shall we?"

Chapter 31
Giselle appeared at the stairs like a damn beauty-product commercial. She had herself wrapped
in a pristine white towel, her strawberry-blonde hair was tied up in a bun, and every inch of her
glowed from the shower and no small amount of soap and scrubbing.
Piper's eyes fell on her and almost dropped out of her head. She stared at my partner with
something approaching worship but shook herself out of it a moment later.
"You're onboard, then?" Giselle asked and strolled over to join us.
"I mean, I definitely am now," Piper said, mostly to herself.
"Giselle, what have I told you about seducing the help?"
"Nothing, and the show was mostly for you," Giselle said, with a flirtatious smile.
I tried to push away the sudden image of Piper and Giselle together with me in a quiet room,
when I remembered that I was in a bed and breakfast and realized it'd be damn close to impossible to
avoid. The brief battle against my glands ended in my narrow victory.
I wrangled my thoughts in order as Giselle pulled out a chair and settled down beside Piper.
Color flushed through the new girl's cheeks, and she tried to look anywhere except Giselle. Her
eyes fell to me with a silent plea for help.
I just shook my head with a grin. "How much did you catch, Giselle?"
"Something about certain doom?"
"Distinctly probable doom," I corrected her. "We've got word that a supervillain will attack the
airport, and if we're going to do something about it, we need to be on-site and ready to stop them
before they get started."
"And how do we know about this?" Giselle asked.
I gave her the lowdown on Pinnacle's complete ownership of the superhero shenanigans. She
hissed a curse, folded her arms, and leaned back in her chair.
"Well, shit," Giselle surmised.
"We need eyes on the airport," I said. "Especially the terminals. "
"I'll reach out to Gwen," Giselle nodded. "I'm sure she's got a way to watch the cameras, or to
get eyeballs on the place if she needs to. But we'll have a tougher time getting in there."
"Why?" Piper asked.
Giselle and I stifled a laugh, and a crestfallen expression fell onto Piper's gorgeous features. I
raised a hand to stall her complaint.
"We're wanted fugitives," I reminded her. "Giselle, how'd you go with the cameras?"
"Scrubbed them as clean as I could, under the time constraints. They'll need a digital forensics
team to put anything together, and after how badly we fucked up their drones, that'll take time. But
that still doesn't help us, because I've got a feeling that if Pinnacle's looking to nuke the terminals,
they'll have their own sets of eyes in there, and they've seen enough of us in the last couple of days to
have an idea of what to look for."
I nodded. "Fair point. I'll dig out a fake mustache."
Piper bit her lip. "Interjection?"
"Go ahead, cutie," Giselle encouraged her. "Dean likes to run his mouth."
"You said you took my powers," Piper said. "And that you could give them back. If we're all
going to be working together, isn't it a good idea to have as many superpowered people as we can?"
Giselle and I exchanged a glance, and I nodded. "Yeah. But the process is a little--"
"--hot and heavy," Giselle finished, with a wicked wink at Piper.
The poor girl turned a deeper shade of red. "Am I missing something?"
"Everything I understand about the transferal involves sex," I clarified. "It's how I realized I
could do it. With Giselle. Gwen got a turn, and now she's pretty much the scariest shooter I've ever
seen in my life. But that's not something you drop on someone straight away."
Piper's gaze bounced between Giselle and me like she was watching a tennis match.
"This isn't a joke, is it?" Piper asked, quietly.
"Sure isn't," Giselle assured her. "Trust me, it's a lot better than he makes it sound."
"And you're telling me that you can pick what powers you give who? If you're really some kind
of ATM machine?" Piper clarified. "Exactly how many powers do you have access to?"
I pulled up my invisible window of abilities and scanned through them.

Safe Zone Found!

Power Selection Enabled

Active Powers (1 of 2)

Speedburst
 Stored Powers

Shadow Stealth

Lock Breach

Resilience

Barrier

Speedburst

Stamina

Refill Container

Darkvision

Accuracy

Healing Hands

Reinforce Allies

My eyes fixed on the 'Active Powers' section of the window for a moment. I still didn't have a
handle on how Safe Zones worked in my power set, but Marci's was considered one of them, and it
looked like I'd now found a way to activate two powers at once, rather than just one.
The sheer potential of it sent a thrill of excitement down my spine, but I raised my eyes to the
girls and rattled off the list of powers that I had at my disposal.
Piper's mouth dropped open, and she made a confused, choking sound.
"I've never heard of anything like this before," she said.
"Join the club," I told her. "My feeling is that you'll want your own powers back, but I figure we
can add in an extra for you from amongst this list. Something that helps complement what you can
already do."
Giselle frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe Barrier? If you've had enough of being the tank?"
Piper looked at Giselle as if she'd just started speaking another language. "Come again?"
"Means that you could very well end up being our best support member of the team," I clarified.
"Healing, helping those around you, with the extra ability to throw up a wall that can stop just about
anything? Sounds like a nice addition."
Piper took a moment to get the words out. "How does it work?"
"You pretty much will a shield into existence," I said. "It can take a couple of rifle rounds, easy,
and probably more besides. And the more you use it, the better you'll become at it. Giselle started off
only mostly invisible, but if you tried to spot her in a long shadow these days--"
 "You won't spot me," Giselle said confidently.
"Incredible," Piper breathed. "So you're the new Darkstalker?"
Giselle made a face. "Fuck no. But I do have his powers."
The newest member of our team shook her head to herself again. "Just so I'm following
correctly, you can steal superpowers from Pinnacle, and create your own superheroines. Which is
amazing. But Pinnacle's got a lot more going for them than you do."
"There's more of them, they've got more experience with their powers, and they pretty much
have the local government in their pockets," I summarized. "Hard to disagree with you."
"Their biggest weapon has always been public support," Piper said. "You're right about all of
the rest, of course, but they can only do what they do because we used to run the best PR, and there
were hundreds of thousands of people who backed us. That kind of power is hard to maintain, and it's
fragile. If Pinnacle loses the citizens, it'll cripple them."
"The Basement's been trying to undermine Pinnacle for years," Giselle argued.
"But they're fringe," Piper countered. "And everyone loves the idea of superheroes who can do
anything from save their cats from trees to stop a terrorist attack." Her eyes lit up as she glanced
between Giselle and me again. "Why not hit them where it hurts the most? Their popularity on the
world stage?"
"How would you go about doing it?" I asked, intrigued.
"Start your own team of superheroes," Piper suggested. "I mean, if what you say is true, you've
already got three if you include yourself. Add me into it, and you have four."
"Pinnacle wouldn't stand for that," Giselle said. "They'd call us supervillains, watch us like
hawks, and turn the entire thing into a dick-measuring contest for PR."
"You have to start somewhere," Piper replied. "I might know a little bit about publicity and
presentation. You give the people new superheroes to believe in? Ones that don't follow Pinnacle's
own policies? You've suddenly created competition for them."
"Competition is good for business," I agreed.
Giselle frowned. "They'd want to crush us."
"I'm sorry, they don't already?" Piper giggled.
Giselle's frown deepened. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
"If there's going to be an attack this weekend," I said slowly, "then we can cockblock Pinnacle
before they can turn up and look good for the cameras. If we look and talk like superheroes, we'll
stand out, but we can get to the threat before Pinnacle does and stop it."
"That'd work?" Giselle asked.
"Giselle, I asked you to help me sneak into a Pinnacle building and steal information from
them," I reminded her. "Hell, you pretty much took out most of the Outreach Center's guards. If I'd
met you before all of this and asked if it was possible, you'd have laughed in my face."
"True," she admitted.
"Every time we've hit Pinnacle, we've looked like shady mercs, not supers. If we turn up in the
right colors, Piper could get us past the security. And we'd be there before the bodies start dropping,
and in a better situation to do something about it." My crazy grin returned, with interest. "It's a long
shot, but it's better than a whole lot of ambiguity."
Giselle met my eyes with a raised eyebrow. "Alright, so you have your party. But what about
what Brandon said about loot? And starting a raid?"
I turned to Piper. "You were in the PR section, right?"
"That's right," she replied.
"Do you know who puts together Pinnacle's super outfits?" I asked.
 "Sure do, I was one of his main contacts for adjustments to outfits for field use," Piper said.
"He's hard to get into touch with, an honest-to-god genius with textiles and armor, and loves his
privacy. But he had a soft spot for me."
"How hard would it be to convince him to make new suits?" Giselle asked.
"Depends on what you're paying him, and if he likes your names," Piper said.
"Names?"
"superhero names," Piper explained. "You've got some in mind, right?"
Giselle rolled her eyes. "Can't say that it occurred to me, honestly."
"Well, we'll need those before we get into touch with him," Piper said.
"I'm not naming myself," Giselle said. "Dean, get onto it."
"I'm partial to Sneaky Girl."
"Fuck off," Giselle growled.
"That won't fly," Piper agreed.
I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Alright, I'll get around to names when I find a moment
for it." My eyes searched the room until I found an ornate grandfather clock behind us. "1530. Do you
think that you could find this suit-making guy this afternoon?"
Piper bit her lip. "Maybe. I'd need a phone, and it'll depend if he knew if I was taken in or not.
The Craftsman might be less cooperative if he thinks that I'm supposed to be under lock and key."
"I'll come with you," I said. "Should be enough to get him over the line."
Giselle's eyes flickered to me, back to Piper, and a delicious smirk crossed her face. She slipped
out of her chair with feline grace, stepped around to the back of Piper's chair, and leaned close to the
girl.
The towel knotted around her chest gave me an amazing view of her bust, and Piper's face
flushed a deep, deep red as Giselle bent and kissed her hair.
"I think you've got something to attend to first, don't you, Dean?"
My mouth went dry at the thought. "That's up to Piper."
"I, uh--" Piper glanced up at Giselle's lips and shivered. "Can she come with us?"
Giselle raised an eyebrow at that, and her smirk widened. "I don't see why I can't. Dean, hit the
shower. We'll join you upstairs once we've gone over just how we'll find this Craftsman character.
Sound good to you, Piper?"
"S-sure," Piper stuttered. "I'd like that."
I slid out of my chair and hit the stairs at a reasonable pace, but then my Speedburst ability
kicked in and I shot up the steps like a cartoon character. The stairs blurred away before I found the
hallway and skidded around a corner.
The smell of fresh shampoo and body wash directed me to a wide, lovely bathroom with an
honest-to-god jacuzzi parked in one corner, and a huge open space for a shower in the other. I heard
the girls laugh downstairs at my sudden exit and forced myself to slow down, and calm myself a little.
After unstrapping the body armor and stripping off the spider-silk clothes, I paused to briefly
check myself in the mirror.
Bruises caked my arms and shoulders from blocked attacks and stopped bullets. The scars from
Darkstalker's attacks had faded into angry lumps of healed skin. The smell of gore radiated up from
the clothes at my feet as I kicked off my boots, unstrapped my belt, and left the knife close to hand on
the vanity sink.
I looked like ten miles of rough road, but the leftover adrenaline from our prison break on the
compound still had me feeling wired as hell.
I turned on the shower. Covered in scalding water, I took my time with the soap and made sure
to scrub myself almost red raw. Dried blood was tough to get off clothes and skin, and I was pretty
sure that Gwen was going to have to trade in most of her stocks if she had to keep buying us all new
clothes. I leaned back against the wall, turned my mind away from the two gorgeous women
downstairs for a moment, and brought up my power-selection window again.
I had a new slot to use, which opened up a huge number of possibilities.
I selected both Stamina and Resilience. The boost to my cardio would definitely help in the next
couple of hours or so, and if I could passively heal some of my injuries while I was at it, it'd prepare
me for our next mission to meet the Craftsman.
My purely offensive-based powers were still limited, and I needed to change that. Accuracy,
Speedburst, and Refill Container were fantastic abilities to have at my command, but they still didn't
give me the raw potential of something like elemental control or energy projection.
My mind flashed back to Lockdown's abilities, but just having the power to stun or put people
in agonizing pain didn't appeal to me. Gwen could take heads off people from a mile away, Giselle
was dangerous enough in close combat and stealthy enough to get there, and my own combat shooting
ability pretty much negated any advantages that the creepy super would have given me.
Every super I'd fought always ran solo, or had a small army of reasonably-trained mercs to back
them up. I knew that'd change in the future, but we'd been able to beat each of them down with
teamwork and quick thinking. I planned to keep it that way.
I scrubbed myself a little more, closed the window of powers, and focused on the sensations of
my body.
The dull aches slipped away as new energy breathed into my muscles, and my ability to take a
beating increased. The ache from the bruises and exertion faded away, and I stepped out of the shower
with renewed vitality.
I felt as if I'd just woken up from a long sleep, rested and refreshed.
Damn, this superpower thing was awesome.
I wrapped a towel around my waist, gathered up my bloodied, filthy clothes, and slung the belt
with the knife over my shoulder. A cloud of fragrant steam parted before me as I padded out of the
bathroom.
I found a few doors on the right, pushed one of them open, and found myself in an old-world
style bedroom. It had all the trappings I'd have expected in a royal palace.
An enormous four-poster bed roughly the size of a football field took up the main area. Two
ornate bedside tables sat beside it with gorgeous lamps. A window opened up to the mid-afternoon
sun, and I could smell sandalwood incense and freshly cleaned carpet in the air. Rugs and carpet made
the floor underfoot soft and welcoming, and a walk-in wardrobe forked off the right.
Curious, I strolled up to it and pulled it open.
My breath caught in my throat when I switched on the light and peered inside.
A row of trim black suits and crisp white shirts sat on hangers, neatly arranged on the left.
Combat boots next to dress boots sat underneath, all neatly paired. And, on a wide shelf directly ahead
of me spread out an equally neatly ordered row of leather belts, cufflinks, wallets, and all the other
extras that went with a sharp-dressed businessman.
The wall on the right contrasted sharply with the rest of the wardrobe, however. Three assault
rifles sat on hooks, freshly cleaned and gleaming with polish. A short-barreled semi auto shotgun
stood underneath them, comfortably nestled between two pistols. One was obviously a concealed-
carry weapon, and a variant with a longer barrel and compensator finished off the set of weapons.
An old-school double-edged dagger hung in a sheath below those, just above a shelf stacked
with military-spec ammo boxes.
 I opened one to find gleaming 5.56 rounds. Another was stacked to the brim with slugs, the
third held all the ammo I'd ever need for the pistols, and the fourth was chock-full of neatly ordered
magazines.
Damn, Marci's room service didn't skimp on the essentials.
Suits, guns, shoes, underwear, ammo, and sharp implements.
I couldn't fault Gwen in her choice of friends, that was for sure.
I backtracked out of the wardrobe, flicked the light off behind me, and turned to find Giselle
and Piper in the room behind me.
The tall, panther-like ninja still only had her towel around her chest, and Piper's loose shirt just
added a layer of sensuality and shyness to her demeanor. There was an almost magnetic gravity
around the pair, something primal and demanding, but I kept my cool, and offered them a smile.
I dropped the bundle of bloodied clothes by the door and set my belt, knife, and gun down on a
side table within easy reach. Piper's eyes followed me as I moved, noting the scars from years of
gunfights and hand-to-hand deathmatches I'd found myself in.
Giselle's hand slid around her slender waist, pulled her close, while her other hand cupped
Piper's cheek and turned her head. The two women turned to look at me, their bodies pressed up
against each other. A devilish smile shone on Giselle's face as she turned back to Piper.
"You want to see what you're getting into?" the blonde murmured.
Piper stared into her emerald-green eyes, and surprised the two of us.
She seized Giselle's towel, tore it away from her, and pressed her mouth hard against Giselle's.
Their lips met in a rush of heady passion.
Suddenly, my towel suddenly became far too oppressive around my hips.
Piper's greedy little hands latched onto Giselle's breasts, squeezing them. A hungry moan
rippled from the other woman's throat.
I stood in dumbstruck awe. I'd never seen anything like it.
The two of them kissed with fierce abandon. Giselle's fingers hooked themselves around Piper's
long, loose shirt, and she tore it over her head with a quick, smooth motion. Piper raised her arms to
make it easier, and as the shirt hit the floor, I caught a quick glimpse of her petite, perky breasts,
before they pressed against Giselle's larger handfuls. Arms roaming, tits squished together, two
gorgeous women made out with fierce lust.
Giselle tore away from the kiss for a moment to glance at me with a flushed face and shining
eyes.
A deep needy moan whined out of Piper's throat. Her icy blue eyes drifted off Giselle and found
my stare. They dipped down to my hips, and the smallest, cutest smirk crossed her face.
"You going to join us?" Piper asked quietly.
"Just as soon as I'm invited," I replied, my voice raw.
Giselle caught Piper's waist, pivoted her hips, and propelled the slim, dark-haired beauty toward
me. Piper rushed to glue her body against me.
Hot, soft lips found mine. Lightning-like pleasure rippled down my spine, and I grabbed her
around the waist. She leapt up, wrapping her legs around me, and I caught her under her fantastic ass.
My hips crashed against the bedside table behind me as her tongue found mine, and she ground
herself into me with surprising strength. My towel hit the carpet around my feet, and Piper moaned
hard enough to make my throat buzz as I squeezed her ass.
Giselle stalked up to join us with feline sensuality, caught Piper under the arms, and tossed her
onto the bedspread like she weighed nothing more than a doll. The gorgeously naked blonde caught
me by the arm and pulled me toward soft silk sheets.
 A moment later, the three of us were tangled up on the bedspread.
Piper lost her pants in short order, and suddenly my world was full of warm skin, soft, horny
lips, smooth silk, and sheer, animalistic desire. Giselle rolled me over onto my back, dropped a knee
on my chest to keep me there, and pulled a willing Piper into her arms.
Their lips met again, and I stared up at the two supermodels as their tongues danced around
each other.
Piper squeezed one of Giselle's generous breasts, hard enough to elicit a surprised moan of
pleasure, and reached down to grip my shaft with warm fingers. She stroked me, slowly, tightening
her grip as she went, and pushed Giselle sideways.
Giselle's smooth, flawless pussy came closer. I grabbed her ass and pulled her to my kiss,
running my tongue up into her soaking wet slit with deep, firm motions. It broke a raw, kiss-muffled
cry of need echoed from her chest.
A second later, the head of my cock brushed against a tight, slick opening.
Piper's moan joined Giselle's but cut off abruptly when their lips caught each other again in that
sloppy, erotic dance-off of competing lusts. Piper ground herself down into me, pushing her tight,
twitching womanhood down onto my shaft one moaning inch at a time, until she'd completely filled
herself.
Warm delightful pressure clenched around my cock, but I didn't let my tongue rest for an instant
as I honed in on Giselle's weak-spots. My efforts were rewarded with a face-full of perfect ass, when
Giselle tore herself away from Piper's kiss and leaned back. She rolled her hips over my jaw with a
desperate, hungry need for pleasure.
Piper's thick, muscular ass slammed down onto my hips, and her own moans rippled through
the room, completing a hot duet with Giselle's hungry cries.
Writhing naked bodies rolled over me in spasms of insane, intense bolts of sheer ecstasy, but I
didn't let myself go completely.
I'd be damned if I exploded before either of the girls did.
Piper came first in a shuddering tidal wave of soaked, slippery sensation. She collapsed forward
into Giselle's chest, but orgasming didn't slow down for a second. Giselle's fingers hooked into her
hair as Piper's tongue flickered over the blonde's nipples, sucking, licking, even biting.
Giselle's weight shifted as she leaned back and dropped her hands down to the silk either side of
my head. Her gymnast's body arched up in a seductive bow of sheer sensation, and an earthquake
rolled through her bones as her climax rippled out from her soaking pussy.
Piper's muffled squeal of delight joined her cries, and the pressure from the two of them
vanished as they rolled off me in a ball of almost-naked limbs and skin. I half-turned to watch them as
they held each other and rode out of the aftershocks.
Piper's eerily-blue eyes found me again with a haze of lust, and she spread her smooth thighs
apart in an obvious invitation. I hooked my fingers around the elastic of her panties, hauled them
down until they were wrapped around one of her ankles, and moved to tower over her body. Piper's
eager little hands came up under my arms, found my back, and her nails slid into my flesh to hold me
in place.
Giselle's face appeared out of the corner of my eye. She turned Piper's head to kiss her.
While their tongues wrestled, the blonde reached down, gripped my shaft, and guided me into
Piper with a smooth, slow stroke. Piper's eyes glazed over, and Giselle cut off a moan with another
kiss.
My hands secured a grip of Piper's smooth thighs, and I drove my hips down, deep into her.
Giselle pulled away from Piper's lips to kiss her neck. She left a trail of kisses down from her
neck to her shoulder to a gorgeous handful of a breast, and Piper's cries turned raw. She writhed in
pleasure as I took her deeper, harder, and I watched Giselle's hair fan out over her dusky skin like
some kind of kinetic, breathing ocean.
The two of them were pictures of sheer beauty, desire, and primal lust, and I burned their faces
and bodies into my memory as I lifted one of Piper's calves up to my shoulder and changed angles.
"Ohhhh, fuck--" Piper managed.
Giselle climbed in over her half-turned form with kisses and caresses.
I slammed into the petite girl with everything I had.
Sweat beaded on my brow. The bed creaked. Pleasure burned like lava in my veins, fed the
roaring fire in my gut. Piper writhed at my touch like a snake.
Her toes curled up as her second orgasm slammed her brain with bliss, and she hauled herself
away from me with a gasping moan. Her arms dropped away from me, and Giselle smirked up at me
as I sat back on my ankles for a moment.
Piper stared up at me with a bright gaze and reached up touch Giselle's forearm.
"I need a minute," she whispered. "Keep him busy for me?"
"With pleasure," Giselle snarled and charged me.
Giselle's skin found mine in a rush of hot pleasure as she bore me backward into the silk sheets.
She was over me in a hurricane of kisses and caresses.
I caught a fistful of hair with one hand as her teeth dug painfully into my neck. The sheer
strength at her disposal pushed my instincts into overdrive, and I hooked my foot around her calf to
sweep her over onto her back.
Giselle's legs snaked up around my waist, pulling me insistently down into her. A second later, I
had her wrists pinned above her head. Her eyes shone with flaming lust as I drove deep into her, filled
her, and reveled in the tight wetness of her slit.
She didn't lay idle, either, driving her hips up into me with each stroke to push my shaft deeper
into her.
Those motions slowed though. Her eyes rolled up into her head after a minute or two, and that
was when Piper made her move.
The dark-haired girl squeezed in between us, until she was lying face-down atop Giselle. Their
lips met again, and Giselle moaned as Piper pressed her fantastic ass into my hips, almost interrupting
my rhythm. I smacked Piper's ass, none too gently, but that didn't deter her for a second.
She rubbed herself against Giselle's hips and belly with short breaths, made out with the woman
underneath her, and worked her way down until her tongue ran in tight circles around one of Giselle's
nipples.
Giselle's body shuddered underneath us as waves of pleasure cascaded through her, and her slit
clamped down with intent to suck my cock dry. Piper moaned into the orgasm-silly blonde's neck as
she did, held her down for me, and glanced up over her shoulder at me with a wicked smile on her
face.
"Round two?" she asked.
I pulled out of Giselle's soaking pussy, pushed up further onto my knees, and teased Piper with
the head of my cock. She dropped her face into Giselle's breasts with a moan. Her tush wiggled up a
little higher to make the angle slightly easier, and I finally relented.
I took her from behind, and the petite girl's moan of delight almost broke through my
superhuman self-control.
She was so damn tight. It took me a few strokes to get a good rhythm going.
Giselle's hands snaked up around her head and pulled Piper's face down into the covers next to
her shoulder. The blonde's emerald-green eyes found mine, and she smirked up at me as I pounded
Piper, faster and faster.
"Look at her," Giselle encouraged. "Look how much she's enjoying it."
Piper let out a muffled sound of ecstasy, and her lower body trembled as I plunged into her with
renewed vigor. I let my eyes comb over Piper's ass, her shaking thighs, her fantastic hips and the lean,
strong muscles in her back.
Giselle bit her lip at my new aggression, and her eyes sparkled with satisfaction.
"That's right," Giselle murmured. "Take her. Harder. Give it to her."
"Fuck, don't stop," Piper growled. "So fucking--ahhhh--"
"She loves it. She loves the way you give it to her. Make her yours, Dean."
I caught hold of a handful of Piper's hair and pulled her head up a little. She shoved herself back
into my hips and drove me deeper into her. Pleasure rippled the whole way through my body, pushing
me higher and higher, until I could barely contain myself.
I slammed into her with a drumming rhythm that filled the room with Piper's moans. My own
rolling snarl erupted out of my chest as I went harder and harder, and Giselle slipped a hand down to
touch Piper's clit with dexterous, teasing fingers.
"Come," Giselle whispered. "Both of you. Just let go--"
Piper's whole body contorted into the most gorgeous naked shape, and I hauled myself out of
her just before my release.
White, thick cum splashed onto Piper's naked ass.
I managed to lock my arms straight before I crushed the two girls underneath my weight. Piper
collapsed on her side beside Giselle, curled up beside her with a soft moan. Giselle caressed my cheek
with a devilish smirk.
"Mission accomplished." She giggled.
A window appeared in my vision, bringing up the now-familiar menu that allowed me to select
powers to transfer to Piper.

Imprint Pending

Select Powers to Transfer:

Shadow Stealth

Lock Breach

Resilience

Barrier

Speedburst

Stamina

Refill Container
 Darkvision

Accuracy

Healing Hands

Reinforce Allies

Chapter 32
"Piper," I said, my voice raw.
"Mmm?" she managed.
"I'll give you your powers back. Do you want me to add in Barrier?"
"Sounds good to me," Piper murmured.
I mentally selected the correct options and let myself drop down on the other side of Giselle.
The confirmation flickered over my vision, and the three of us laid there for a moment in an amazing
afterglow of warm, naked skin and pleasurable aftershocks.

Imprint Complete

Healing Hands

Reinforce Allies

Barrier

I rolled over onto my side and watched the two girls with probably the most smug grin I'd ever
had on my face.
Two supermodel superhumans with powers that I'd given them, check.
One damn fine Friday afternoon mostly done with, check.
One crazy, borderline suicide mission ahead of us, check.
Seemed like pretty much a standard day for Empyrion's latest superhero crew, if I was being
honest with myself.
I don't know how long we all stayed on the bed for, but I eventually pushed myself up to my
feet and glanced over at the girls while I considered our next move.
We didn't have much time ahead of us. We needed to make every hour count. While I definitely
wasn't complaining about Giselle and Piper curling around each other like every man's dream, we had
a megalomaniacal superhero corporation that needed to be taken down a peg.
"Piper, want a shower?"
"God yes," she said.
"Giselle, can you rustle up some clothes for the two of you?"
"I can look into it. Guessing we should call Gwen, too?"
"If you can do both, I'll be eternally grateful."
Giselle glanced at Piper with a smirk. "You're not already?"
 "More eternally grateful," I clarified.
"On it, boss," she chirped and left the bed.
Piper was slow to follow, and she winced a little as she rose to her feet.
A flash of concern rippled into my mind, and I took a half-step forward. Piper waved me off and
placed a hand over herself. Golden light flickered around her palm. She sighed with a sudden relief,
and straightened up, good as new.
"Healing in action, huh? Good to see you can use it on yourself."
"It's a nice perk," Piper agreed. "Giselle wasn't lying, you were amazing."
"Be sure to leave a five-star review online, just in case we need more recruits," I joked.
"Might have to do that," she teased. "Okay, shower. See you in a minute."
She padded out of the room, leaving me to get dressed. I found myself a suit my size and
dressed as rapidly as I could.
I wasn't a stranger to fine clothes. Plenty of my assignments overseas had required blending into
a fancier crowd, but I generally liked to keep my clothes practical rather than visually impressive. But,
as I shrugged into a suit jacket and felt it fall around me in a narrow fit, I had to admit I looked damn
good.
The clean, black lines of the suit and the sheer comfort of it told me that the thing had been
tailored. It wasn't an off-the-rack business suit. I decided against a tie, mostly because it was an easy
handle for someone to strangle me with, and slid into a pair of snazzy dress boots.
Done, I gave myself another once-over, and then turned to the wall of weapons on my right. I
already had a carry-rig for a pistol, so I slid that into the small of my back, and used the lines of my
jacket to conceal it. The knife went around my ankle, and I loaded two magazines with fresh 9mm and
slid them into my pockets. It wasn't an ideal place to keep them, but three full guns would keep me
going for a while.
I brought up the menu of my powers again as I stepped out of the wardrobe, armed and ready to
move.

Safe Zone Found!

Power Selection Enabled

Active Powers

Stamina

Resilience

I studied my list of available powers and thought about the next step. I didn't know anything
about this Craftsman character, but it would be safe enough to assume that he had defenses, or a
couple of supers on speed-dial.
I couldn't easily hide the super-stopper anywhere on my person, and I didn't exactly have a wide
list of offensive powers at my fingertips. Increased stamina and toughness were an excellent and
balanced combination that boosted my natural skills and abilities. Increased speed would be a good
advantage to have, but it only helped me cover ground quickly after I got the momentum going, which
wouldn't be very useful in a close-quarters environment.
Piper's healing and reinforcement skills would complement my own, and if she could create
Barriers as cover, I didn't see the need to push my loadout in a different direction.
Stamina and Resilience stayed locked in.
I stepped out of the bedroom and headed down the hallway to find Giselle. She was in an
adjacent room, dressed in tight jeans and a fantastic blouse that reminded me of the first time I'd seen
her. It wasn't tactical by any stretch of the imagination, but it suited her perfectly.
The blonde had one of Gwen's old-school smartphones in her hand. The leader of the Basement
was on the line. She glanced up at me with a grin and hit the button that switched it over to
speakerphone so I could hear the conversation.
"--and let me guess, Dean wants to hit them tonight."
"Not exactly," Giselle hedged. "It's crazier than that. Speak of the devil--"
"Hi, Gwen. How are things on your end?"
"We're all clear. I think the distraction was enough to keep the S-tiers off our back. So we're
laying low for now. And I was pretty sure that was the plan, after this. What the fuck is all this about
an attack on the airport?"
"New intel, new plan. And, as usual, no time to spare," I said. "I'm taking Piper to get us some
superhero outfits. We're starting our own counter-Pinnacle to help the Basement's narrative."
Gwen didn't speak for a full minute.
"Are you fucking serious?" she demanded.
"He sure is." Giselle laughed.
"And you're including me in this?"
"Yeah, we need a name for you." I chuckled. "Any ideas?"
"Dean, I might have powers, but I'm not a fucking super. I don't believe in anything except
taking down Pinnacle with as much ordnance as it takes."
A lightbulb flared in my mind. "Ordnance. That's fucking awesome."
"What the fuck have you people been smoking at Marci's?" Gwen demanded.
"Ordnance is a pretty amazing name for a super who can't run out of ammo and believes in fire
superiority," I said to Giselle. "She's a small package with a hell of a lot of bang."
"I like it," Giselle agreed. "That's you, Gwen. You're Ordnance now."
"Fucking--" Gwen took a deep breath over the phone. "So you're taking Piper, and what's your
shadow doing? Just twiddling her thumbs while you run off to play super?"
"Shadow," I repeated with a wide grin. "Hey, look, you've got all the names today, Gwen." I ran
my eyes appreciatively over Giselle. "You said you didn't want to come up with your own name, but
Shadow is better than Sneaky Girl, surely?"
"Damn right it is."
"That leaves Piper."
"And you," Giselle reminded me.
"Good point. Gwen, to answer your question, Giselle is going to head back to Chuck's. Ideally,
we can put people into the airport and keep their eyes out for anything out of the ordinary. Piper and I
will find this Craftsman character and see if he does rush orders."
"And what if she turns on you? Or this guy rats you out?"
"I'll deal with it," I said confidently. "Piper won't turn on us. She doesn't have any reason to, and
more to the point, they want her head almost as badly as they want ours. We did her a solid, and I'm
pretty sure she's happy to return the favor."
 Gwen swore. "If everything you did hadn't worked out so far, I'd tell you that you need to get
your fucking head checked, Dean. But for whatever reason, you seem to thrive in chaos. Do what you
need to. We'll put Billy and Chuck on the airport. Take Giselle's phone, and keep me updated. You
might need a rescue."
"Talking like a super already." I grinned. "Roger that, Ordnance."
Gwen hung up on me, and Giselle coughed to hide an attack of giggles.
"She's in an excellent mood," I noted.
"Oh, I'm sure she'll come around. Especially when you get her a nice little outfit," Giselle said.
"Where's Piper?"
"Here," Piper reported, from behind us.
She was wrapped in a towel, hair still damp. Her eyes fixed on Giselle's outfit with a quick
blush of appreciation. "Wow, they have clothes here as well?"
"Wardrobe," Giselle directed.
Piper slid past the two of us. "So, we're ready to go?"
"Once we know where we need to go, sure," I said.
Piper switched on the light in the walk-in wardrobe, dropped her towel to the floor, and
searched the racks for an outfit in her size. She glanced over her shoulder at Giselle, bit her lip
thoughtfully, and started picking out a business casual outfit.
"I know where he's usually based, but I'm sure he'd prefer for me to reach out first and see if it's
even possible. From there, we should be able to figure out whether or not he'll see us."
"And let's suppose he doesn't?" I asked. "We kinda need those suits for the plan to work."
"I'm confident he'll meet us and hear us out at the very least," Piper said.
She slipped into a set of eye-catching lingerie, pulled on a pencil skirt, and zipped it up over her
hip. Giselle and I both watched appreciatively as she slipped on a crisp black blouse around her
shoulders, turned back to face us, and gestured to the phone in Giselle's hand.
"I memorized his number," Piper said. "You sure that phone's secure?"
"As much as it can be. It's practically a fossil at this point, and I'm sure that Gwen's people have
made sure it's impossible to track." Giselle tossed the phone to Piper, who caught it with barely a
glance at the tumbling device. "Knock yourself out."
"Or don't. We kinda need you conscious," I added.
Giselle drove a perfectly deserved elbow into my ribs, and Piper stepped out of the wardrobe
with a pair of modest pumps in her free hand. She took a moment to stare at the phone's layout,
confused, but she got the general drift and punched in a number. She fumbled finding the call button
for a second, until she finally got it to ring.
A click opened up the speakerphone. We formed a rough triangle at the center of the bedroom
and waited for Piper's contact to pick up the phone.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. Then, a heavily modulated voice answered. Giselle's
jaw tightened as she heard it, and I could understand why--it sounded eerily close to what Darkstalker
had sounded like when he'd stalked us through my dad's safe house.
"This is the Craftsman."
"It's Piper Cervantes, sir."
There was a long, pregnant pause for a moment. "Word is you're on the run. And you've got me
on speakerphone, which makes me think that whoever freed you is listening in, right now. Give me a
good reason why I should talk to you."
My blood ran cold at the immediate aggression.
We couldn't afford to lose him.
 "Pinnacle's compromised," Piper said. "They're manufacturing their own supervillain threats
and then using them to play to the crowd. We've got a plan to stop them, but we can't do it without
your help."
Another small eternity of silence washed through the room.
The modulated voice spoke again. "Compromised, eh? You have evidence of that?"
"Nothing concrete," Piper stammered. "But they locked me up because I knew too much. And
we really need your help here."
"What exactly do you think I can do for you?"
I cut in. "We need four suits made to custom specifications. Ones that'll mark us as supers, and
get us access to places that we can't otherwise go."
"Big ask," the Craftsman noted. "Why?"
"We're looking to form a counter to Pinnacle. Our own team," Piper said.
Another long pause. "Interesting idea. And you're confident it'll work?"
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Piper said.
"Do you have names for this little crew of yours?"
"Shadow, Ordnance, and Paladin," I said.
Piper quirked an eyebrow at me. "Paladin?"
"You're the purest and best example of what superheroes in Pinnacle should be," I told her.
"And you're pretty much a support tank, which is what the role of a paladin normally is."
"Paladin, Shadow, and Ordnance. Good names," the Craftsman observed. "And what about you,
glorious leader? What's your name going to be, son?"
My eyes widened at that, my gut jumped into my mouth, and I noted the sudden rush of
familiarity in the Craftsman's tone.
"Dad?"

Chapter 33
Giselle and Piper both stared at me in open-mouthed shock as the Craftsman chuckled over the
phone at my half-question. The sheer shock settled into my gut, converted into boiling excitement and
energy, and suddenly explained so much about my old man's understanding about Pinnacle's
movements.
How else would he have been able to piece together information from the inside? If he was the
guy who made Pinnacle's superhero suits, he'd have access to privileged data on supers that no one
else could have accessed from the outside.
Piper's hands trembled as she lifted the phone back up to her mouth again.
"I'm sorry, you're Brandon Silver?" she asked.
"Got it in one, Miss Cervantes," the modulated voice replied.
Piper's eyes locked onto mine. "I thought you looked familiar!"
"Guessing we can dodge the necessities for fitting names until we meet up," I cut in.
"Seems wise. From the sounds of it, you don't really have the luxury of time."
"Yeah, well, there was this mysterious breadcrumb trail I had to follow."
"You're doing an excellent job, Hansel," my dad snarked.
"Thanks. Just let me know when the giant gingerbread house is going to drop a nuke on my
head. Where are you?"
"Undisclosed location, for the moment."
"Sounds about right," I said. "Want to disclose it, or are you trying to kill us with the
anticipation? I'll agree, it's got some advantages over lead poisoning or superpowered narcissists, but
still, I've got a pedicure appointment, and I'd really hate to disappoint the brand-new salon owner in
town. They look like they could use the business."
"Northside District, fuel station, on the edge of town."
"Well, we'll be moving out of the tavern house soon enough, and the party's formed. Thought
you were going to make us raid a dungeon with appropriate gear on the other end of it. No miniboss?
No timed raid? You're slipping, old man."
"Am I?" my dad asked. "How do you know you haven't already completed the dungeon and
you're just looking to pick up your reward from the quest giver?"
Giselle's grin threatened to split her face, and the same amusement had infected Piper, too. My
old man could banter all day and we'd get nowhere, but he'd made a good point about our time
constraints.
I glanced over at Giselle, tapped my nonexistent watch, and jerked a thumb to the stairs at the
end of the hallway.
"He'll drown us all in MMO references if we're not careful," I said. "Can you meet with Gwen
and the others? I picked up a smart-gun from the Tin Men, and I think Billy would appreciate a look at
it. Piper, you up for driving? I'm still reeling from the emotions. Might influence my ability to drive."
The filter vanished from my dad's voice, and I heard his warm, deep voice properly for the first
time in years. "It'd be good to see you, Dean. I'm sure you've got questions."
"More than a couple. But we need the suits more than a catch-up over coffee."
"That's fair enough," he said. "ETA?"
"Giselle?"
"If it's Northside and you want to dodge the curfew, you'll need to leave now," Giselle affirmed.
"Probably an hour or so. Brandon, it's good to hear your voice. Good to see you managed to find work
again."
"Same to you, Giselle," my dad replied with a chuckle. "My son kept you entertained?"
"Oh, definitely," Giselle purred. "Every day's a new adventure."
"We'll see you soon, Brandon," Piper replied.
She hung up the call, tossed the old-school smartphone back to Giselle, and stared at me with
fresh amazement on her face. I offered her a shrug in reply before I straightened the unfamiliar jacket
around my shoulders and headed off toward the door.
The two beauties in business casual followed me down the stairs, and I ran through our next
moves quickly in my head.
I needed answers from my old man, I needed suits for my team to get us past Pinnacle and
airport security, and I needed some time to think and process everything. Out of those three, the suits
were probably the only ones I could count on managing to pick up. The rest were luxury.
"Can Gwen get you picked up?" I asked.
"More than likely," Giselle replied. "Otherwise, I'll be here wringing my hands and waiting for
my glorious knight to come back and rescue me."
I combed the furniture with my eyes and snorted. "Hell of a tower to be kept in."
Giselle laughed. "Not as much fun without people to help me break it in."
Piper went red at the brief mention of our earlier tryst, but I took it in stride, hit the bottom of
the stairs, and entered the antechamber to Marci's. I found the keys to the car in my pocket. With
purpose in my stride and a fancy new suit on my back, I left and moved toward the silver, well-worn
sedan.
No longer did I resemble a sketchy merc with intestines in his hair who radiated an aura of
fuck-with-me-and-die. A proper suit made it easy to match the mannerisms of a corporate assassin
now. Already, I felt like some kind of investment banker with a hard-on for big numbers getting
bigger, and his attractive dipshit secretary.
I fished the smart-rifle out of the back seat and tossed it to Giselle, who snagged it out of the air.
Her eyebrows rose at the sheer heft of the thing. She carried it back into the house, and I pulled the
driver's door open for Piper.
The dark-haired beauty flashed me a wink as she took the keys from my hand. The tight pencil-
skirt did amazing things to her thighs as she eased into the driver's seat. Piper fired up the car once I
sat down beside her.
I waved to Giselle as Piper backed the car out of Marci's driveway. She sent back a cheeky
flying kiss.
A couple turns later, we were driving through the suburbs of Queensby. Despite the mid-
afternoon light, people were still going about their business, keeping streets crowded and roads busy.
I kept my eyes out for any sign of police presence, overhead drones, or even a flying super, but
our luck and ability to keep our heads down was working in our favor. I didn't see a single person
watching us.
Piper knew Empyrion's layout so didn't ask for directions as she shuttled us out of Queensby,
angling the car back toward one of the main arterials that led us north. I settled back into my seat with
a relaxed mutter of appreciation and returned to admiring my new teammate.
I'd known Piper for less than a day. Underneath the terrified prisoner had emerged an assertive
young woman with a plan and a purpose, and it'd all happened in a blink. Even Giselle had taken a
little longer to get her head around the insanity that I brought to the table, but Piper was a super.
She'd seen crazier shit in Empyrion as an employee of Pinnacle, and I trusted my instincts about
her. She wouldn't turn on us. Of that, I was damn near certain.
"So, your dad," Piper said as we drove out of Queensby. "Tell me about him."
"Everyone wants to know about him."
"He's an interesting person," Piper said. "I had no idea he was the Craftsman, and still less that
he was backing the Basement right under Pinnacle's nose. That takes a pair of big brass ones. But you
don't seem too surprised about it."
"I'm plenty surprised--I'm just repressing it."
"When's the last time you saw him?"
"Years ago," I said. "A while."
"And he's the one who put you up to all of this in Empyrion?"
"Something like that. I thought it was a pretty standard mission, so far as things went. I didn't
expect Darkstalker to come after me and Giselle, and I definitely didn't expect to manifest
superpowers and find a way to stop him. Or give his powers to Giselle."
"Must be nice," Piper murmured, her eyes on the road.
"What's that?"
"Having absolute clarity about this," Piper said. Her knuckles whitened around the steering
wheel, and she gave me a searching glance for a moment. "I mean, you're ridiculously confident that
your plans will work, each and every time. You pulled me out of the Manor without blinking, and now
you're planning to take on a supervillain at a crowded airport with a handful of supers, one of whom
you barely know."
"Heh." I chuckled. "Yeah, guess that does sound crazy."
"It feels good," Piper said, and returned her eyes to the road.
I caught the hint of sadness in her tone and decided to change the direction of the conversation
while we drove. I didn't know Piper all that well, in terms of her history, and figured that a little prying
into her past wouldn't hurt.
"You said you were part of Pinnacle's super program," I said. "What was that like?"
"Amazing," Piper said. "I was eight years old when my powers first manifested. I was in grade
school, down south, and some kid broke his arm playing football. I tried to help him out, and there's
this big flash of golden light. Next thing you know, his arm stitches itself back together, and I pass out.
I woke up in a clinic with my parents and an honest-to-god superhero standing over my bed."
She grinned fondly at the memory. "My dad was so proud. He couldn't believe his little girl had
superpowers."
"Must've been crazy for an eight-year-old," I observed.
"It got crazier. Pinnacle has a special school, like an academy, up north. They taught us about
our powers, showed us how they worked, what the drawbacks were, and how to work around them.
We did all this training, but I never got to do the fun stuff."
"Sensing a change in pace here," I observed.
Piper nodded. "They had me and a few other girls pinned as models, advertising fodder. We
became superhero journalists, got into fashion, ran a bunch of circuits and traveled around the country.
I ended up as the superhero at other kids' bedsides, sometimes. We used to call it 'going on tour', but at
least we had each other."
"Was Phenomenon part of that group?"
Piper shook her head. "She was already on top of the world at that point. This is in the earlier
days of Pinnacle, too. They didn't have the same kind of support from the people at the time, and a lot
of them were scared of us, didn't know what to expect."
"Did you end up doing any patrols? Saving lives?"
"A few times," Piper replied. "But I was always followed around by drones. There was this
script we had to follow, regurgitated lines like we were in a movie or something. I never even got into
a fight. I was just there to patch up the victims and tell them everything was going to be okay." She
grimaced at the memory. "I hated it. I wanted to be on the frontline."
"Careful what you wish for," I said. "You're front and center now."
"Good," Piper said fiercely. "Had enough of being their mannequin."
Her surge of irritation sent a wave of warmth all the way down to my toes.
"You're really something," I observed. "I mean, how many kids grow up in that world, and get
corrupted by it? Get tainted by the glitz and the money and the fame and power?"
Piper's mouth hardened into a straight line. "Too many."
"What kept you out of it?" I asked.
"My parents," she answered immediately. "I went to see them as often as I could. I might've
been some super-special big-name on the cameras, but they never let me forget my roots. I could be
normal around them. superpowers or not, I was their daughter. And every time I found myself face-to-
face with something that would've let me get what I wanted, easily, I just thought of my mama, and
what she'd say to me."
I grinned at the image. "They'd be so proud of you."
Piper grimaced. "Well, once I explain it to them, I'm sure they'll understand, but right now, I feel
like she'd be giving me grief. Throwing in with a crazy man and his fanatical followers to help bite the
hand that fed us all."
"Maybe Giselle and I can convince her otherwise," I teased.
Piper pulled off the arterial, and her face went a deep shade of red. "Oh, goodness."
We slid through the beginnings of rush-hour traffic without any issues. I noted a heightened
amount of police cruisers as we headed north. Teams of well-armed police officers were doing random
checks at dedicated checkpoints. None of them pulled us over though, which I was grateful for.
It wouldn't take much for them to recognize Piper on a wanted list, and the sheer amount of
weapons I had hidden in my suit were enough to get me a fast pass into an interrogation room.
Northside Empyrion was a different city to the expensive neighborhoods of Queensby and
Callisto. Things were cheaper here. Streets were a lot tighter-packed with housing projects and local
businesses.
Piper kept her driving as safe as humanly possible, and before long, we were headed right out to
the city's edge. I took note of the gas stations, all brightly lit and blaring advertisements for fast-charge
batteries and ludicrously expensive ethanol-blends for high-end vehicles. One such place caught my
eye.
It sat tucked away on a street corner, with its lights out, and a hefty sign telling passersby that it
was closed for business.
"That one." I pointed out to Piper.
She nodded, indicated off the road, and took the car around the back, to where the bathrooms
and showers would have been for customers of the establishment.
My eyes swept the place, found busted-up cameras poised in all the right places, and confirmed
my earlier guess that this was my dad's hideout.
Piper parked the sedan, killed the engine, and noted my sudden stillness.
She squeezed my forearm. "You okay?"
I nodded. "It's been a while since I've seen him, is all."
"Are you nervous?"
"Paranoid," I assured her. "Comes in all kinds of flavors in my family."
I got out of the car and checked every blindspot I could find around us. A few people passed by,
walking dogs or chatting to their neighbors, but none of them set off my radar. We could have been
two property inspectors, and I couldn't help but chuckle as Piper stepped out of the car.
"You bring a clipboard?" I asked.
"What?"
"Don't worry about it," I assured her.
I led the way to the back of the gas station. Cracked concrete fought off a weed infestation as
we headed toward the door. The building was squat, unimportant, and much like my old man, a relic
from another age.
The back door had a biometric lock, and I pressed my thumb against it. The lock clicked, the
handle turned, and I pushed the door open with a knee. I pulled my gun out of its holster with
instinctive ease and swept the corners.
The inside of the place was all tiled, smelled of cheap disinfectant, and absent of the kind of
dust you'd expect to build up in a boarded-up building. A few diner-style tables sat beside the
windows. Nestled behind a wide counter crowded by barstools sat a long-abandoned grill with a
coffee machine. Black-and-white checkered tiles gave the whole place a roadhouse vibe, something
easily lost to history.
It struck me as the kind of place I'd have picked out as a trucker on my way into Empyrion. It
had a timeless Americana-vibe to it, complete with framed pictures of classic cars on the walls.
I lowered my 9mm as Piper brushed my side.
"You weren't kidding. You are paranoid."
"Part of the job," I said. "Come on."
We headed around the counter, and into the modest kitchen behind the grill. Plates and utensils
were nowhere to be seen, and I noted an unmarked door with a sign that read 'employees only' at the
other side of the kitchen.
Another biometric lock barred the way, but a press of my thumb got us through the door. A
stairwell into a basement stretched out below, and I made sure to close the door behind us before we
headed down.
Piper's shoes echoed off the tiled stairs and bounced eerily off the whitewashed walls. I got to
the basement first and found a tightly cluttered space full of futuristic machines. Under flickering
fluorescent lights, a narrow pathway through barrel-like structures led us to a modest opening between
all the whirring machines.
A single figure sat hunched over a double-monitor PC rig.

Chapter 34
A cane sat beside him on the desk, but there was no mistaking the shock of fair hair streaked
with gray. My dad clicked madly at the screen, his off-hand skating over the keyboard, and I
recognized the ancient MMO on the screens before him.
Piper went to say something, but I cut her off with a sharp gesture, and gestured toward a couch
parked in the far corner. She shot me a confused look but followed my direction. I joined her there a
moment later.
Brandon Silver had a headset slung over his surfer's mane, but he wasn't speaking to his
teammates on the raid, and I knew better than to interrupt my old man when he was in the middle of a
timed dungeon. I rested the gun against my knee and took in the basement and all of its little details.
The machines looked oddly familiar. After a moment, I realized that they reminded me of the
strange chamber I'd found at the first safe house with Giselle. It had the same sleek, muted-steel
construction, with minimal lighting and control panels.
A collection of steady hums and whirs echoed out of the devices. They must have been the way
that my dad put the superhero costumes together. He'd probably already started building ours,
knowing him.
Brandon Silver didn't believe in being anything short of three steps ahead. While it usually
infuriated anyone he worked with, it was hard to dispute that he got results.
"--shit," my dad muttered, and slipped off his headset with a grimace.
"Tank died?" I asked.
"Useless," he agreed, and spun his chair to face us.
The last I'd seen him, my dad hadn't sported a beard peppered with gray, nor a pair of glasses.
The cane wasn't new, but the smell of cigarettes was, and I noted the ashtray at his elbow and bulge in
his breast pocket.
His face could have tricked you into thinking that he was in his late twenties and some lifestyle
choices had taken their toll. The truth was, Brandon had to be pushing fifty-four easily. His eyes
snapped to the gun on my knee, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Don't trust my security?" he asked.
"Never know with neighborhoods like these," I said. "Especially when relics are parked in
underground supervillain lairs right below a street full of well-meaning citizens."
"I suppose it's too much to ask to invite a secret-agent wannabe into my home without him
waving his fully-loaded metal cock around the place like he owns it."
"Nerd," I fired back.
"Thick-headed jock," my dad replied.
 "Budget police-procedural detective."
"Wannabe action hero."
"Closet evil genius without the maniacal chuckle."
"Boys." Piper sighed. "So, you're Brandon Silver? Not the Craftsman?"
My dad's eyes crinkled as he gave her a warm smile. "Both, as it happens. I'd apologize for the
deception, Miss Cervantes, but I think you already know that it's justified." He fished a cigarette out of
his breast pocket, lit it with a box of matches by his ashtray, and clouded his face in a wreath of blue-
gray smoke. "It's good to see you, Dean."
"Likewise, old man," I said with a grin. "The smoking's new."
"Thought it'd give me an air of eccentricity."
"You needed that?"
Brandon chuckled. "I suppose I didn't. Alright, lightning round. You've got questions, I've got
answers, but we're all running short on time if what Piper said is true."
"Did you already know about the attack? About the supervillains?" I asked.
"Had my suspicions. No way to actually do anything about it, until you showed up."
"You could've had me here earlier," I pointed out. "A lot earlier, actually."
"Had some scores to settle against Australians with knives in my back."
My mind flashed back to the investors and gamblers I'd run into in Thailand. "Yeah, well,
they're headed back to the great country down under with their tails between their legs."
My dad chuckled. "And a couple of crippled limbs, from what I heard."
"Seemed fair after what they were up to."
Piper stared between us for a long moment. "Wait, so you're his henchman?"
I couldn't help but crack up at that. "I guess I am, yeah."
"One of the most excellent guided missiles a man could ask for," Brandon confirmed with a
deep, rolling chuckle. "Although we're getting to the end of that, as unfortunate as it is."
So my dad had known about the attacks, then. Or enough that he'd seen fit to do something
about it. I crossed that particular note off my list, and went to the next pressing question, and the
whole reason that we were here.
"Loot?" I asked.
"Already being made," my dad said, with a nod at the machines behind us. "I took the liberty of
making the designs myself, which I hope won't be an issue for the four of you."
"Just so long as I don't have a boob cutout," I warned him. "My nipples get cold."
"Don't worry, you'll be perfectly able to make eye contact with nuns and not feel self-conscious
about it," he assured me. "I'll have them delivered to Chuck's tomorrow morning, ready for when you
start your raid."
"Some clarification on what you mean by that?" Piper asked.
My dad's eyes twinkled. "The biggest mission so far. You're raiding Pinnacle. It's not a single
attack, and it's not as simple as finishing a dungeon. We're talking a consistent beatdown until every
boss is defeated, until the final dungeon is complete, and there's nothing left of their organization.
Stripping them down to nothing."
Piper's eyes did a dinner-plate impression, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth.
"Don't ask much, do you?" I said.
"You're up to it," Brandon assured me. "And after this, I'm going to have to be a lot more
careful about how I reach out and help you. I've been helping Pinnacle put their little team of
superpsychos together for years now, and I have a feeling they're not going to be happy when I
withdraw my services and turn my business elsewhere."
 "Why help them if you wanted to burn them down?" Piper asked.
"It's the long game," he explained. "Pinnacle's a unique structure, truly. It's built and predicated
around the idea that superheroes are a net good to society, and without them, we'd be lost to chaos and
destruction. If they're the ones responsible, then you can consider me your information gatherer
behind the lines. I know these heroes, I know their powers, and I know how they think. You're a
unique case, Piper. Which is why I had Dean free you."
Piper shook her head in astonishment. "All this time, and you could've done something?"
My dad tapped his cane and took another drag of his cigarette. "I'm not exactly the same man I
used to be. I can't fight the same, and I certainly don't have the talents that Dean calls his own. But I
can spy. I can find information. And I can turn it against them. And I have."
"Why? Why do you hate them so much?" Piper asked.
My dad leaned forward until his elbows were on his knees, took another draw, and let the smoke
curl from his lips up around his head. "It's a long story, but I'll do my best to keep it short. I've had an
issue with Pinnacle ever since my own father's company partnered with them. When they started, they
needed our resources to get off the ground."
I had a small flashback to the SilverSky crates in the Outreach Center, and I frowned.
"They still use a lot of our equipment," Brandon said, to answer my unspoken question. "I
imagine you might've seen some of it floating around in your travels. They wanted our technology, but
we managed to keep a good amount of it out of their hands before they seized everything. It was ugly,
even back then." His eyes drifted to his cane for a moment. "Your grandfather didn't make it.
supervillain attack, right in the middle of a dispute. That's what they called it, anyway. Had my doubts
about the situation."
Something ugly flared in my gut. "Guessing they came after you next."
"I was there. Watched him get torn apart. I got lucky. Blown ACL, damaged hip tendons,
crippled ankle. And the bastard who did it vanished. They apparently never found out who did it. We
got all the condolences, the payouts, everything. Pinnacle sweetened the deal anyway they could, but
it was a pretty clear message if you're not a screaming idiot."
"Grandfather must've had something. Known something," I said.
Brandon offered me a smile with very little humor in it. "He did."
A long silence settled into the room, broken up only by the whirring of machines in the
background as they put our impressive spandex outfits together.
I leaned back on the couch and slid my gun back into my waistband. Pieces of the puzzle
swirled in my head.
What information could my grandfather have had that made killing him a better option than
threatening, negotiating, or buying his knowledge? I recalled the strange platforms in the Outreach
Center, the hovering naked bodies, and lightning in their veins. Sure, it could have been coincidence,
but SilverSky Industries crates had been peppered around the magical power-siphons in droves.
"He knew the original recipe for superheroes," I said quietly.

Chapter 35
My dad nodded once and leaned back in his chair to take in another long drag of nicotine. He
tapped ash onto the floor, shifted until he was comfortable, and let his eyes fall back to me again with
something like regret in his gaze.
"I'm guessing that there's maybe three people in the world that know it," I mused. "Probably one
of the Big Three, you, and there could be an offside team inside of Pinnacle that's responsible for
breeding them in tanks. Or injecting newborns with some kind of secret sauce."
"I don't know what it is. Not completely," my dad said.
I didn't hear bullshit in his tone, but it always paid to verify.
"But you know enough," I said. "Enough to make sure that I ended up here at the exact right
time, with the exact right powers to make trouble for Pinnacle."
Brandon met my eyes without flinching. "The secrets behind it died with my old man. Pinnacle
still has enough to continue their game of making new supers. He planted something in me, something
that I passed to you. This ability of yours, to transfer and create new heroes--it's what they can do,
without the extra requirements."
I thought about my powers, the way that they worked, and the pop-up windows that reminded
me of the old RPGs I'd once played with dad. All of it had his fingertips all over it, but I knew down to
my gut that he wasn't lying to me.
If Brandon had the same abilities that I called my own, he would have done this himself. Of
that, I had no doubt.
I'd trained over and over again to inspire trust, and to be reluctant to give it out. But I'd seen and
experienced enough in my travels and in the last week to know that my dad had my back.
Piper leaned forward, placed a hand on my knee, and excitement sparkled in her eyes.
"From what I'm hearing, it's not that you hate the idea of superheroes," she said. "It's that you
hate them being irresponsible, and using their powers to take advantage of regular people."
"The fact that humanity has managed to hit an evolutionary leap in our lifetimes is nothing short
of breathtaking," my dad agreed. "I'm not advocating for the complete and utter destruction of supers.
But Pinnacle's a monopoly and the main controlling interest. They need to be stopped. And this little
team that you've assembled is the perfect first step."
"Doesn't hurt that you've been backing the Basement, either," I said.
Brandon grinned. "In a game like this, it never hurts to have more allies."
My mind flickered to Gwen and her crew of hyper-efficient professionals. I couldn't have pulled
half of the shit I'd gotten away with in the last week without their help. They'd sheltered, armed, and
given us the opportunity to take the fight directly to Pinnacle with minimal superpowers and superior
firepower.
"Can't argue with you there. Gwen's done a lot, even before she got superpowers."
"Charisma and professionalism are fantastic powers all on their own," Brandon agreed. "She's
done far beyond what I could've managed in her position. Her movement isn't as strong as it could be,
but so long as there are people in the shadows who believe in keeping Pinnacle accountable, there's
every chance that with the right opening, you can topple their house of cards."
"Lots of metaphors," I noted. "Been reading lately?"
"That's one of the benefits of not sleeping," my dad said. "You should try it."
"That's one of the benefits of being a guided missile," I countered. "We have eggheads who do
the reading while we do all the real work."
Brandon snorted. "Piper, do me a favor and buy him a book. Poor boy needs it."
"Why don't you do it for him?" Piper asked, with a sunny grin. "You've given him everything
else. Would it be so difficult to squeeze a book in with his superhero outfit?"
Brandon huffed a laugh and stubbed out his cigarette. "Not a bad idea."
"Short of an attempt to make me cultured," I said, "can we get back to what the plan is, exactly?
You want me to bring down Pinnacle. Starting our own team is one way of making that happen, sure.
We can open up their weaknesses to the public, show the world that they're not as strong as they seem
to think they are. Let's suppose that we can exploit them, turn the people against them. We're still
staring down the barrel of three incredibly powerful supers with all the resources to make their own
army of nuclear-level threats all on their own."
Brandon nodded. "Yup."
"And they're going to take issue with us. We're playing with fire here."
"Doesn't really seem like you to be cautious." Piper frowned.
My dad choked back a laugh but didn't take the easy opening to give me shit.
"That's because it's not just my ass on the line," I said quietly. "If it was just me, and even our
little team, then yeah. I'd be more inclined to be bold. But if we're fighting a long-term war with
Pinnacle, there's going to be casualties. Let's suppose that we can oust them, show just how corrupt
and morally bankrupt they really are. The public turns on them. They become the villains. Do you
really think that they're just going to take that lying down?"
Piper's face hardened in a mask. "They wouldn't."
"They sent a hitman after me and Giselle without even knowing who the fuck I was," I
reminded her. "They locked you away because you called them out, and the only mistake you made
was that you went up the chain of command. This all happened in broad daylight, because people are
stupid enough to believe that they're good for Empyrion. What happens if they say 'fuck the laws'
embrace being villains? You ever think what Patriot or Phenomenon could do to a city if they were
pissed off enough and had no reason to play nice?"
Piper gulped at the mental picture I'd just painted.
"I know it's a lot to ask," my dad said, his tone serious.
"But no one else is on this," I finished. "Yeah, I know. And I'll do it. Fuck them, fuck their
floating dick in the sky, and fuck their stupid underwear brands. They hurt you, they attacked my
family, and they think they've gotten away with it."
A sad smile crossed my dad's face. "You're right, you know. This won't be pretty."
"Not for them," I agreed. "And there'll be a cost. And I'm willing to pay it."
Piper's hand tightened around my thigh in silent agreement.
Brandon fished another cigarette out of his pack, lit it, and studied the two of us for a long
moment. I couldn't see or read his thoughts--not yet--but I knew that the wheels in his head were
spinning fast enough to achieve escape velocity. Possibilities and probabilities were opening up in
front of his eyes, contingencies and countermoves were simulated in a giant game of chess that only
his mind could see.
"You've got everything you need," my dad said finally. "I don't have any definite numbers on
the likelihood of your success, but you've given Pinnacle the biggest finger they've seen in a very long
time."
"This sounds a lot like goodbye," I noted.
Brandon shook his head. "Yours isn't the only game I'm helping with, unfortunately."
I thought about that one for a second and tried not to laugh. "What, you're helping the US
government negotiate with aliens or something?"
My dad chuckled at that. "Don't knock it, it's tough work."
"All right, so we're all on a clock here. You said you didn't know much about the airport
situation, and that Piper was the key to most of it."
He nodded. "That's right."
"Let me ballpark some things with you."
"Just so long as they're not fastballs. Leg isn't what it used to be."
"Please. You know I'm a curveball guy," I replied.
"Hell of a wildcard to have on your side," my dad agreed.
 "What time makes the most sense to attack the airport?" I asked.
My dad spun in his chair, tabbed out of his MMO, and quickly pulled up the flight itineraries for
the weekend.
Piper's brows came together in another thoughtful frown, and I did my best to put myself into a
terrorist's shoes. If Pinnacle could slip a harmless-looking individual into the terminal, then it made
sense for them to wait until the perfect time to start stacking civilians and causing property damage.
Brandon brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes as his gaze darted over the screens in front of
him. He puffed at his cigarette and nodded as he turned back to us.
"Tomorrow morning, between 1000 and 1100 hours," he said. "Four connecting flights, and
three international arrivals. That'll be the largest number of victims in a tight place at once."
"Not a lot of time to move, then," I said. "Will the suits be done by then?"
"Sure will. Four superhero outfits. Ordnance, Paladin, and Shadow. And yours." My dad
chuckled as he looked over at me. "Came up with a name for yourself yet?"
"Giselle's got a point. Kinda weird choosing my own name."
"I like what he called you earlier," Piper said.
Brandon and I both glanced at her.
"Wildcard," she said. "A random entity, something that's a complete game-changer. Ever since
you got here, you've turned things on their head. superheroes can't lose their powers, and you
definitely shouldn't be able to shift people's abilities back and forth. You're a danger to them because
they can't predict what you're going to do next, or how you do it. You change the rules and the flow of
how all of this is supposed to work."
"Wildcard," my dad said, slowly, and rolled the name around in his mouth. "Heh."
I couldn't deny that the name fitted my M.O. . I'd spent most of my adult and teenage life
throwing wrenches into people's plans, and if I was honest with myself, fighting Pinnacle in with
pseudo-guerilla tactics leaned perfectly into my skillset.
I nodded after a moment and slid up to my feet. I offered Piper a hand. She took it and followed
me across to Brandon's desk.
My dad placed his cigarette down on the ashtray and caught hold of his cane. He lifted himself
up with a grunt of effort.
"You'll still need a name for your team," my dad noted.
"I'll let you know what it is when it comes to me," I said.
Brandon leaned on his cane, and his gaze swept over me. His bright, intelligent eyes took in the
bespoke suit, the gun tucked into an appendix holster, and my serious gaze. A swell of appreciation for
my old man swept through me in a thrilling rush.
It'd been years since I'd last seen him. Anyone else probably would have wanted to punch him
for what he'd put me through. But I could appreciate what he'd done for me, the missions and the
hellish situations he'd put me through.
I'd done a lot of good by doing bad shit to worse people, and the sheer purity of it had always
kept me on a straight and narrow course in my own mind.
I held out my hand to my father, and he took it with a firm, warm grip.
"It's good to see you, Dad," I told him.
"It's a pleasure to be seen," he replied with a wink. "I'll be in touch."
Our hands slid away from each other, and I glanced over the workshop around us. "You know,
one of these days you'll probably want to retire from skulking around in basements surrounded by
weird technology. You could retire in the Bahamas, lay on beaches, and drink cocktails with little
umbrellas."
 "I'd probably spontaneously combust. Don't have the skin for the climate."
"Just something to think about, if you're leaving me to deal with Pinnacle. Might be time to call
it and just relax. Take your mind off it all."
Brandon laughed. "You think I'm getting too long in the tooth?"
"You've done so much already. Seems like an adequate reward."
"There's usually not a happy ending for our family, Dean," my dad said.
"Then break the mold. Take a holiday. Send me a postcard."
His eyes crinkled into that heartwarming smile of his. "I'll take it under advisement." He turned
to Piper and offered her his hand. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Cervantes. Look after my son,
will you? He's got a good head on his shoulders, but he can get a little excitable about things."
"I've noticed," Piper assured him. "And I will."
"See you, dad," I said.
"I'm proud of you, son," he assured me. "Good hunting, Wildcard."
I grinned at him. Piper's fingers curled into mine, and we left the basement of whirring
machines behind us.
We had our spandex on the way, a good window of opportunity to turn Pinnacle's plan against
them, and I had a fresh dose of motivation to bring their fucking organization down around their
heads. I needed my team around me, a little more time to plan, and then we could start the war against
Empyrion's so-called heroes.

Chapter 36
Piper took the driver's seat of the sedan again as we hit the gas station's parking lot. My gut
snarled at me, reminded me that I hadn't eaten in far too long, and I made a mental note to have a good
night's dinner before our mission tomorrow.
Daylight had faded fast since our little sojourn into my dad's secret lair. In the sky, amber
streaks whispered of nightfall and the impending curfew.
We slid through Northside, kept a low profile, and joined the ranks of traffic as they queued up
to get onto the main highway that would take us back to the Industrial District. Piper didn't say much
in the first fifteen minutes, but after we hit a wall of bumper-to-bumper traffic, she finally asked a
question.
"You seem pretty distant with your dad," she said. "I mean, if that's really the first time you've
seen him in years, and he's just signed you up for a war against Pinnacle, I'd have expected--"
"Anger?" I offered.
"I don't know, just something stronger than constant shit-talking."
"It's how we bond. We're not exactly kissing-and-hugging types."
"I get that, it's just weird to me."
"I'm not exactly normal."
"Mm, true." Piper scanned the traffic ahead of us with a grimace. "We might not make it back to
where we need to be before it gets dark."
"Well, that's their fault for throwing down a curfew when people work nights," I said. "Sure,
most people will do their best to get home, but there's always going to be the workaholics who stay
late at the office. Not our problem."
"And if we get pulled over?" Piper asked.
"I'll handle it. Don't worry."
"Brandon seemed, I don't know, sad," Piper observed.
 I thought back to the conversation. "Yeah, a little."
"That doesn't bother you?"
"I just asked him to take a trip down memory lane that involved his dad getting killed and him
getting crippled," I said. "That'd be enough to make anyone feel blue. That, and he's pretty much
asking me to take on one of the most powerful entities on earth. I'd imagine he's feeling a little like
Abraham right now."
"And you're the sacrificial son?"
"Raised in the south, and you don't curse?" I observed. "Religious parents?"
"You're avoiding questions by analyzing me," Piper countered. "You were worried there for a
moment, Dean. When you were talking about the risks. Granted, I know next to nothing about you,
but still, it's the most human I've seen you be."
I chuckled dryly. "Sorry to break the illusion."
"It's reassuring," Piper said, "as crazy as that sounds. I mean, he's asking you to do the
impossible, and you just took it in stride. You seem happy enough to potentially throw your life away
for a cause that you didn't even know about until you got here."
"It's about par for the course."
"Doesn't make it any easier."
"Sure doesn't," I agreed. "But I don't make the rules. I just play the game."
Piper snorted at that. "Sure you do."
I grinned at her sarcasm. "So, was I right? Religious upbringing?"
She sighed. "You're impossible. And yes."
"Must've been an adjustment when Pinnacle tried to turn you into a sex symbol."
"I dealt with it. And if I hadn't been raised right, chances are that I'd just be another one of the
supers that you have to push through to get to the Big Three." She took the sedan through a hole in the
traffic with a grunt of satisfaction.
I stewed on that for a moment. "There's got to be others."
"Other supers in Pinnacle with religious backgrounds?"
"supers with souls left," I clarified. "Once we're through with the airport situation, we're going
to have to think about recruitment. A way to pick up our own team members that are onboard with
what we're trying to do, and actually believe in helping Empyrion."
"I might know a few. But I figured that you wanted to hand-pick your own. Find a few more
underwear models and spray superpowers all over them."
I chuckled at that. "I'd be happy to take one for the team, but it sounds inefficient. It's something
to think about for later. Let's just focus on getting through the weekend in one piece first."
Piper nodded. "Okay."
We hit a snag as we finally slipped off the highway and headed into the Industrial District.
Local police had set up a roadblock, and they pulled up cars as they headed out toward the battered
workplaces. Tired and dusty factory workers looked disgruntled as armed officers checked their
paperwork and waved them through, efficient and polite.
One of the cops hailed us as we approached the roadblock, and Piper's knuckles turned white
around the steering wheel. Her eyes widened, and she looked to me with soundless horror on her face.
I put a hand on her knee and gave her an encouraging smile. "Follow my lead."
I nodded, and she pulled a halt.
Three officers stepped out around the sedan. Heavy winter coats obscured their body armor for
the most part. They kept their hands close to their sidearms as their eyes swept over the car and looked
for anything suspicious.
 I glanced at the time, and up at the sky. We were on the fading end of dusk now, and whatever
story I cooked up needed to be bulletproof and convincing as hell. Both Piper and I looked like serious
businesspeople. The uniform colors of our outfits gave me an idea.
A young blonde woman rapped a knuckle on Piper's window, and she wound it down. She
wasn't a trained actress, and I gave her knee another reassuring squeeze as she attempted to smile at
the officer beside us.
The cop's face was drawn, and the dark circles under her eyes told me that she'd been on duty
for a few too many hours. She didn't want to be here any more than we did.
"We're closing down the district," the blonde cop told us. "What's your business here?"
Piper didn't answer, and she lowered her gaze from the officer's.
I leaned over, careful not to give the police any reason to spot the very-illegal 9mm tucked into
my waistband, and made friendly eye contact with our interrogator.
"Evening, officer," I said politely. "Sorry to bother you, we're just coming back from a funeral.
We wouldn't be bothering you, but Carlie here realized she left her laptop at the office. She needs it for
the weekend."
"A funeral?" the cop asked.
"For that attack on the street a few days ago," I said. "Mutual friend of ours. Got her spine
broken, ended up in critical condition. She didn't make it." I used my dry mouth and nerves to my
advantage, and my voice trembled a little. "Can we slip through?"
Sympathy flared in the woman's eyes. "What's the name of your company?"
Piper glanced up and saved my ass with a quick name. "Nutri-Glo's packing shed. My boss is
enough of a bastard as it is--we all had to fight just to get the day off." Piper's voice quavered with a
mix of sheer terror and adrenaline. "Can we get through, please?"
"Carter, what's the situation?" the cop's radio crackled.
The blonde officer hesitated for a long second, and I saw her mind running through the situation
before her. On one hand, she'd technically be breaching protocol by letting us through, and that could
land her in shit. On the other, I'd engineered the story perfectly to appeal to any emotional instincts she
might have had.
The two of us were nervous wrecks, right on the edge of curfew, and obviously anxious already.
The story was thin, but our body language and voices were just enough to push her over the line.
Officer Carter nodded as she made her mind up. "Go on through. We're closing down the
highway at 6, alright?"
"Thank you, officer. What if we can't get back in time?" Piper asked nervously.
Carter grimaced. "Then I'd recommend you stay back at the office for the night. Everyone's on
edge right now, but if your boss gives you a hard time about it, here's my number." The cop slipped us
a card with her details on it and stepped back away from the sedan. "I'm sorry about your loss. You
have a good night, okay?"

Chapter 37
The barrier lifted, and Piper pushed the car forward with a half-formed smile. She closed the
window, and we slid past the police cars.
Some of the officers watched us with confused expressions, but no one moved to stop us. I gave
Piper's knee one last squeeze before I withdrew my hand. Piper let a breath hiss free as she pushed the
sedan into the guts of the Industrial District. I gave her basic directions to Chuck's place.
"That was so freaking close," she breathed.
 "You did amazing," I said. "I don't know any of the places around here. You pulled our ass out
of the fire there, big time."
"Feels wrong, lying to them like that."
"Alternative was a potential gunfight and a four-hour chase, maybe with a siege at the end of it.
They're tired and running on fumes, and we don't have the time to spare. Trust me, it was the better
thing to do. And it's the last time I'll ask you to lie to law enforcement, if it helps."
"You can guarantee that?" Piper asked breathlessly.
"We're going to be a dedicated superhero team soon," I said, "which means Giselle and I can do
all the talking to police. Just be glad that they didn't ask for any ID."
"Damn, you got her good," she realized.
"And now I've got her number," I said, and slid the card into the inside pocket of my jacket.
"Might be useful to have a contact in the EPD. Turn right here."
Piper guided the sedan around a corner, where we found the run-down warehouse ahead of us.
The gate was already open, and a familiar face with blonde hair and ornate tattoos was already waiting
for us.
Piper stared at her for a long moment, and I jogged her arm. She pushed through into the
abandoned lot.
Gwen swung the gates shut behind us. The petite blonde girl jogged after the car with effortless
stamina, and Piper greeted her with a nod of sudden recognition. I slid out of the car, winked at Gwen,
and watched Piper lock the car behind us.
"Keeping out of trouble?" I asked the leader of the Basement.
"You've got no fucking idea," Gwen growled. "What the hell is all this about Brandon working
for Pinnacle? Making them their suits?"
"He figured it was the best way to get information," I said with a shrug. "I don't know how they
didn't catch him, but hey, it worked. We're getting our own outfits pretty soon, so contain your
excitement."
Gwen hauled the heavy door open and ushered us into the warehouse. "Oh, I can't wait to play
dress-up as the bastards I've spent the last few years fighting against, trust me." She spat to one side
with a curse and pushed the doors closed behind us. "Please tell me that you didn't get here empty-
handed otherwise."
"Brandon figures that the attack will happen around 10-11 tomorrow morning," Piper said. "It's
when most people will be in the terminal. Did your people find anything while they were there? See
anything out of the ordinary?"
"If you mean a small fucking army of cops and Pinnacle's armored idiots--"
"--Tin Men," I corrected her.
"Seriously?"
"That's what they look like. And once they're all rusted up, they're pretty useless," I said. "Or
have they got an actual name? Something punchy and media-friendly?"
"They only just fielded them," Gwen reminded me.
"Cool. So they're Tin Men."
"Why do I even fucking bother with you," Gwen muttered, and opened up the secret passage
down into Chuck's hidden base under the dilapidated warehouse. "Yeah, those. They're everywhere,
checking IDs, making it difficult for Billy and Javier to get eyes on anything."
"They've got clearance from the local government for that?" I asked.
"Strictly in an 'assistant' role, but yes," Piper said. "That'd be how they get away with it. How
many of these places are underground for you guys?"
 "They call them the Basement for a reason," I said. "Ladies first."
Gwen and Piper descended the hidden set of stairs, and I followed close behind. The bench
rolled back into place above our heads with a grinding series of clicks, and we moved down into
Chuck's network of tunnels until we arrived at the Firing Range with the attached kitchen.
Giselle had Chuck's ancient laptop set up on the dining table, and she flashed us all an adorable
grin as I pushed the door shut behind us.
"Is it standard practice for Pinnacle to throw their own people under the wheels of an incoming
supervillain?" I asked to resume our earlier conversation. "Because that's what they're doing. I can see
them not giving a fuck about the police and the civilians, but those suits they're wearing can't be
cheap."
"What better way to garner sympathy?" Gwen said. "There was a terrorist attack, we lost some
of our own brave men in the wake of it, and it was only thanks to the timely intervention of our
greatest heroes that the whole situation didn't deteriorate further."
Piper's face hardened at that. "I want to disagree with you."
"I'm sure you do," Gwen growled. "Wouldn't put it past a Pinnacle super though."
"Alright," I said flatly. "Let's clear the air about some things here, now that everyone's
assembled." I met Gwen's eyes without a shred of humor. "Lay off Piper. Yeah, she's new. Yeah, she
was Pinnacle. She also risked getting killed trying to tell them about their internal struggles. In
retrospect, not the smartest move, but she couldn't have known that."
Gwen met my gaze defiantly. "You're not selling her well here, you know."
I turned my eyes to Giselle. "You got a problem with Piper?"
"Problem is mostly that she's wearing clothes," Giselle offered innocently.
Piper blushed furiously at that.
I turned back to Gwen. "I get it. You've spent most of your time fighting Pinnacle, and you're
paranoid. I love that about you, seriously, but you're going to have to trust me on this one. She'll help
us, and we're not going to get anything done if you're busy trying to bust her chops while she's doing
her best to prove herself to you."
"I trust you," Gwen growled. "And Giselle. I've seen you both get your hands dirty to help us.
Pinnacle hasn't caught this many sucker punches, ever, and it's thanks to the both of you that we are
where we are. But she's fresh out of their fucking hivemind, Dean."
"And she's still got a soul. And she came up with a plan that'll stick the biggest knife we can
manage into Pinnacle's ego," I fired back. "She's worried because she's not thinking about herself.
She's thinking about the people that we're going to stop from dying. Even if that includes the fucking
Tin Men that the supers are happy to sacrifice to push their narrative."
Gwen growled another curse under her breath. "Just so I'm getting this straight. You expect us to
rescue Pinnacle's hit squads if they come under fire?"
"Yup. I like it as much as you do. But if we're going to establish ourselves as people that
Empyrion can trust, we're going to have to do some shit we don't want to. I'm not saying that you need
to dive in front of a bullet for the Tin Men. Primary focus will be the civs. But if it comes down to it,
we'll have to shield them from the worst of it. And Piper's the best suited for it."
I noticed Chuck slip into the room silently from a side door, turned back to Gwen, and softened
my tone. "I'm used to running these things mostly solo, alright? But you know better than me that a
team divided is going to get less results than one who looks after its own. I can't afford to have you
sniping at Piper when she's doing her best."
Gwen pinned me with a glare, but the intensity waned as we stared each other down.
Silently, I willed her to pick up what I was saying and take it seriously.
 She dropped her eyes from mine, finally, and exhaled sharply through her teeth. "Fine, I'll lay
off." Gwen turned to Piper. "But that doesn't mean you get a pass. If I see you do anything that
threatens me or my people, I'm putting you in the ground."
"If I do," Piper said quietly, "then I'll welcome it."
Chuck broke the tense silence with a cheery chuckle. "Hey, look at everyone playing nice." The
giant ambled up to Piper with his disarming grin and shook her petite hand with his massive gorilla
paw. "Nice to meet you. I'm Chuck, one of Gwen's favorite henchmen."
Piper seized on the opportunity for levity. "Did you eat all the other ones?"
Chuck's grin widened to dangerously sunny levels. "Can neither confirm nor deny."
My gut snarled audibly, and Giselle fought off a sudden onset of fierce giggles.
"I guess that's my cue," Chuck said. "Gwen, dinner?"
"Sure." Gwen sighed. "No booze tonight, though. We'll need clear heads."
"Roger roger," the giant said with a snappy salute, and headed into the kitchen.
He fastened an honest-to-god apron with pink flowers around his massive chest, slid a chef's
cap over his head, and hauled open an in-built fridge under one of the counters. I gestured for the team
to join.
When Piper sat down beside the catlike blonde, Giselle kissed Piper's cheek with a cheeky
sparkle in her eyes, earning a cute blush for her efforts. The tease then rotated the laptop so I could see
what she was working on.
"Airport blueprint," I noted.
"Mm." Giselle pointed out the main terminal. "This is our main problem, right here. There's two
levels to it, lifts, and a huge amount of floor space. Did we find out what our mysterious supervillain's
powers are?"
"Nothing concrete," I reported.
"So we're shooting blind." Giselle nodded, taking it in stride.
She pulled up an internet video of the airport. Tin Men and police swarmed around the
entrances, and a feed from inside the terminal flared in our vision.
"This is footage from Billy and Javier. We've got all kinds of cops and Pinnacle people around
the entrances and patrolling inside."
"And none of them have any idea about the bomb about to go off," Piper whispered.
"Even with decent cover, what makes you think that we're going to be able to get in?" Gwen
asked me. "Do you really think that we can pass ourselves off as Pinnacle?"
"We can take some acting lessons from their former associate," I said with a quick wink at
Piper. "As for the casualties, Piper will help offset some of those as best she can. The EMTs should do
the rest when they arrive."
"You want to call them in? What if they get caught in the action?" Gwen asked.
The delicious scent of sauteed onions and garlic wafted out from Chuck's pans. I forced my
mind back on the mission ahead of us, instead of the culinary heroin currently being prepared twenty
feet away from me.
"We'll let them know the second it gets hot," I clarified. "Which brings up strategy number one.
Whoever this guy is, we need to get him out onto the tarmac as fast as we can. Less bodies to drop and
less collaterals to damage."
"And if you can't manage that?" Piper asked.
"We'll manage it," Giselle affirmed. "We have to. There's no other way around it."
"So you've got Piper on damage prevention and helping us into the terminal," Gwen said. "What
do you have in mind for me and Giselle? I'm imagining you don't want us wringing our hands outside
while you're busy being a hero for the cameras."
"You'd be correct. I need you in as crowd control," I told her. "Run hot loads, but see if Chuck
has anything nonlethal lying around, as well. Switching between lethal and nonlethal will mean that
you can put down any of the Tin Men if they decide to get into our way. Helps with the clean up, too.
Less injured personnel that Pinnacle get to moan about, the better."
"And me?" Giselle asked.
"I'd say hang out in a corner with a video camera and get excellent footage of us being all heroic
and shit," I said, "but someone's going to need to help move the civs out of the firing line. Help Piper
and Gwen move them out of there, and then you can reconnect with me to make sure that our friendly-
neighborhood terrorist is contained out on the tarmac."
"All right," Gwen said with a frown. "So supposing all of this goes well--which I doubt--and it
works out the way you want it to--also big doubt--and we manage to get this guy out of the building
without killing a whole bunch of people--really rolling the dice on that one--what do we do when
Pinnacle shows up?"
Piper and Giselle both glanced at me, curious as to my answer.
"Safe bet that they are going to show up?" I asked Piper, to clear my bases.
"Something like this would warrant one of the Big Three, minimum," she confirmed.
"We're not up to fighting them. They're way out of our league, and this isn't an exercise into
seeing who can piss higher on the tree," I said. "We'll have to turn our attention to what matters in the
pocket. Evacuation, assisting the police, and maybe containing the supervillain if we can manage it."
"Gonna take everything in me not to put a bullet in them when they show up," Gwen growled.
"They don't care about the threat. They're not going to care about us. All they'll care about is looking
pretty for the cameras. Hell, knowing them, they'll find a way to pin it on us and use it as an excuse."
"If it comes to that, it comes to that," I said. "But the last thing we need is open war with them
when we're just getting into the game. We're not on their level. Not yet. And we're going to need to
figure out how to navigate the backdoors behind all this shit if they choose to let us into being
superheroes."
"If they choose?" Giselle asked.
Meat hit the oiled pans next to the sauteed vegetables, and another rumbling snarl echoed out of
my gut hard enough to break the accusative tone in Giselle's voice. I was fully aware of how insane I
sounded.
Letting Pinnacle dictate the terms of our entry was unacceptable. But, if we were really going to
break into the minds and hearts of the public, then it'd have to be a slow-burn process. As satisfying as
it would be to burn them in front of the world, and as hard as it would be to let them take the helm,
this was their home-field we were playing in.
We could win, but we still needed to appear to play by their rules.
"It's our best shot for Piper's plan," I said. "If it works, fantastic, we can build up our own team
and eventually find enough dirt on them to bring an end to all of this. If they go weapons-hot on us,
then we vanish back into the aether and keep playing chicken until we've got the advantage, and press
it for all its worth."
"I feel like they'll bite," Piper said. "They have to. Another superhero team hasn't arrived
because they control the production and the means of making them. You're a threat, but not one that
they can publicly denounce, until they've got better information on all of us."
"I guess this is the moment for people to say if they want out," I said.
Gwen snorted. "Pull the other one."
Piper nodded. "I agree with her. I'm in this now, and I'm not backing down until they've paid for
what they've done to Empyrion."
I turned to Giselle, who just laughed at my quirked eyebrow. "What am I supposed to do
instead? Go back to SatSec and beg them for my job back? If they're going digging for information,
all they're going to find out is that I was an assassin in meetings if I needed to be. Everything we do
beats corporate drudgery by a nautical mile, let me tell you."
"Great, I've corrupted you. You're an adrenaline junkie now."
"You're a terrible influence," Giselle agreed.
"All right, so everyone knows what their role is?" I asked.
I got a round of nods, smiles, and assertive grunts, and the team split off.
Giselle slunk back through the side door with Chuck's relic of a laptop under her arm, and Piper
wandered over to help Chuck with the food. The scent of delicious cooked meats, steamed rice, and
vegetables washed out over my senses.
Before long, my whole team sat around a wok of restaurant-grade stir fry with steaming bowls
of pristine rice and chopsticks. Jokes, banter, and conversation flowed to distract us from the blatant
insanity of the plan we had in mind.
Chuck shared a story about a tour he'd done in Vietnam on a motorcycle, how he'd single-
handedly managed to piss off an entire village with the wrong sentence. It had Giselle and Piper
laughing like maniacs, and a knowing smile crossed Gwen's face in between rapid applications of stir-
fry to her mouth.
It felt nice having a team--having friends.

Chapter 38
I helped Chuck with the dishes after we were done. Part of it was to thank him for the food. Part
of it was just to do something.
The mission loomed in my head like some kind of giant beast, snarling and pacing around
inside a mental cage. The simple task of hot water and detergent and scrubbed dishes helped take my
mind off it, pushed me into a mental headspace where a single task at hand was all that mattered.
The girls chatted at the table for a while, until Piper and Giselle excused themselves for the
night. I hadn't yet seen the rest of Chuck's underground base, but showers and comfortable sleeping
arrangements seemed to be the norm for Basement safe-houses, and as I slid the last of the plates onto
a wide drying rack, Chuck clapped me on the shoulder with that irrepressible grin of his.
"I'm going to hit the hay," he told me.
"Enjoy it," I said. "Appreciate the assist today."
"Pleasure was all mine. Trading bullets with amateurs is always fun."
"Remind me to tell Gwen to give you a raise."
Chuck snorted. "That'll be the day."
"You good to drive us tomorrow morning?"
"I'll keep the engine warm for you while you play at being superheroes," he assured me.
"You're good people, Chuck."
"Well, that's a lie, but it's nice to hear it."
The tatted giant traded a crushing handshake with me and slipped through the side door.
I dried my hands, wandered back over to the table, and shouldered off my suit jacket. I tugged
the 9mm out of my waistband, holster and all, and set it down. My knife came next, and I caught
Gwen's eye.
The petite blonde thumbed bullets into a pistol magazine with practiced, instinctual efficiency. I
picked out a seat beside her, found a box of black-tipped bullets and an empty magazine, and started to
help.
"You're quiet," Gwen observed.
I shrugged. "Said what I needed to."
She clicked in another round, set down the magazine, and reached for another. "Tell me what's
on your mind?"
"Guess I didn't give you the mind-reading powers yet, huh."
"You have those?"
"Not yet." I chuckled. "Gotta go with my gut."
Gwen smirked. "So I've still got to ask like a regular human. Penny for your thoughts?"
I let my mind wander for a minute or two, while my fingers found a speedloader and filled a
couple of magazines with armor-piercing rounds. The smell of gun oil, lead, and brass clung to my
fingertips while I worked.
Gwen worked quietly beside me, waiting for my answer.
"Guess I'm just feeling reflective," I said.
"God, you're capable of that?"
"Not just a pretty face or a fast gun hand."
"Thinking about tomorrow?"
"More about the last week," I said. "All the crazy shit I've been up to since I got here."
Gwen snorted. "superpowers, finding us, and starting your own crew of capes?"
"More about legacy. My dad put all of this together. Hell, he trained me for it. He funded the
Basement, pointed Giselle in my direction, and pushed us to get Piper out."
"Yeah, I wondered what that was all about. He say why?"
"This shit with Pinnacle is personal to him."
Gwen raised an eyebrow at that. "Brandon didn't strike me as the kind of guy to take things
personally. So this is all a crusade for revenge and we're getting pulled into it?"
I shook my head. "I don't see it that way."
She gave me a searching look. "Or you don't want to believe that he's using you."
"Oh, he's definitely using me. That much is obvious. But he's taking a step back to let me push
out by myself, and carry on with what I see is best." I slid a magazine into an empty pistol, checked
the chamber, and noted a small grinding resistance in the springs. "The same way that he's let you lead
the Basement to where you think it needs to be. Got some oil?"
Gwen got up, found a small case, and opened it to me to show me some cleaning supplies. I
took out a small bottle of oil, unloaded the pistol, stripped it down without looking at it, and started
finding the grit and the dirt that'd affected the cycling action of the weapon.
"You don't think Brandon just put the Basement together as a way to help you when you got
into town?" Gwen asked.
I eyed her for a moment. "No. I don't."
"I mean, you did just walk in here and more or less change the entire trajectory of what we do,"
she said. "We fight supers. We expose them. We use our resources to find holes in their defenses and
we exploit that for all it's worth. Before you got here, if we were going in guns-blazing, it was to
rescue someone or to try and protect a witness that was willing to give us dirt on Pinnacle."
"And you're not going to keep doing that?"
Gwen's smile didn't have a lot of humor in it. "Well, we've almost turned into your own personal
strike force at this point. And now we're becoming the hidden network behind a superhero team. So I'd
say that we've shifted gears a little, yeah."
 "So you're concerned that I've taken your baby away from you, and turned it into something that
it's not," I guessed. "Hence your resistance to Piper. So your problem isn't exactly with her, it's more
with me."
Gwen gritted her teeth. "I didn't say I had a problem."
"No, you didn't, but it makes sense." I worked over the springs with a thin sheen of oil, slid
them back into the weapon, and quickly reassembled it a piece at a time. "The Basement's yours, and
it's still yours. I'm grateful for the help you've given us, truly. But my dad put you in charge for a
reason. He could've planted me in here earlier if he wanted me to run the place."
"We'd be in the middle of a war if he left you in charge."
I grinned at her change in tone. "Exactly."
Gwen huffed another amused snort.
She clipped in the last of her rounds, and then got up to go and find an assault rifle that suited
her. She pored over the racks of long-barreled weapons, giving me a fantastic view of her ass as she
considered them, and then lifted a simple classic off the wall. It was a standard AR-15 pattern weapon,
a design that'd worked for decades and hadn't fallen out of fashion.
As much as the European and Australian militaries had tried to push bullpups as more efficient
and ergonomic weapon systems, you couldn't go wrong with the classics. Gwen clicked open the bolt
with ease, checked the chamber, and brought it back to the table with her.
"You weren't kidding when you said you weren't going to work for me," she said.
"I'm a great goon, but I'm better again when I call my own shots." I laughed.
"Yeah, it's hard to argue with the results," she admitted. Gwen slid the magazine out of the
flared magwell, set it down, and put her cheek down on the buttstock. "You spoke a little bit about
what happens if this all works out. That we're going to set up a shadow version of Pinnacle, and keep
the game going for as long as we can to expose them. Are you expecting the Basement to endorse our
new little team?"
I chuckled. "Nah, that'd be against the whole game. We should be treated with the same kind of
suspicion. I'm not going to complain if they give us a pass, don't get me wrong, but my feeling is that
any superheroes need to be kept under a magnifying glass as often as possible."
Gwen's eyes widened at that. "You're serious."
"Dead serious," I confirmed.
"You realize that just makes it harder for you, right?"
"Yeah, because this whole thing was going to be easy." I clicked the last piece of the pistol
together and set it down before I leaned back in my chair. "All I've got is what's right in front of me.
Three damn fine girls with superpowers. If that's enough to stop Pinnacle from killing a whole lot of
people, then it's enough for me. We worry about what happens when we get out alive."
"I don't know how you do it. Second to second, adrenaline junkie shit." Gwen shook her head.
"It'd drive most people crazy. No plan of action? Just push until you find something you can't
overcome?"
"If there's something I can't overcome, I haven't found it yet," I said quietly. "And in every
theater of war, plans go to shit the second that bullets start flying. You need to be able to improvise,
play speed chess in the pocket. It's about outthinking the other guy when the pressure's on, just like
any kind of fight."
"They've got plans though. Backups. Contingencies," Gwen argued.
"And that's what makes them vulnerable. Predictive modeling is great when you've got the time
and energy to account for everything and do it right. But there's always a random factor that's enough
to bring the whole thing down. And we're that random factor, Gwen. We have to be, if we're going to
beat them."
"So your plan is to have no plan?"
"We'll need plans," I acquiesced. "But I'm not going to put together a ten-year system that fails
because Pinnacle throws us a curveball. We need to be the ones throwing them. If we can keep them
on their toes, we've got them by the short hairs. And if we've got them by the short hairs, they'll be
scrambling. They'll be reactive. Their plans won't be worth shit. And that's right where we want them."
"So what's the ultimate goal, here? Bringing down Pinnacle?"
I thought of Piper, of her sincere earnestness, and her belief in the potential of superheroes. I'd
never be a proper symbol of justice, peace, and prosperity, but people like her could pave the way into
something greater. I thought of my dad, of the regret in his eyes, and of the steely resolution they
burned with as he told us about what had been done to my family by Pinnacle.
Revenge and hope didn't really seem to fit into the same world.
But I'd seen crazier things.
"I think it's about bringing down what Pinnacle represents," I said slowly.
"Which is?"
"You ever think about their name?" I asked. "Pinnacle. They think of themselves as the tip of
the evolutionary spear. The thing that all people should strive to be. The alphas, heads of the pack that
is the human race."
Gwen made a sound like she was about to throw up. "And you wonder why I hate them."
"No, I know why." I folded my arms and kept rolling through my thought process. "What are
heroes supposed to be, ultimately?"
Gwen rolled her eyes. "I don't know. Myths and legends to make people feel like they can
actually do something? That maybe, just maybe, they'd actually be able to rise above their ability to be
a sheep in a time of crisis and do something noble?"
I snapped my fingers. "Exactly. They're a symbol, but they're something that people come
together around. They're not the pinnacle of humanity. They're an ideal. Something that everyone
wants to be. People come together around heroes. They give them hope. And Pinnacle uses that to
divide them. They corporatize it, and turn everything into a competition."
"What are you getting at?"
"Heroes should bring people together. That's what they should strive for, be the example of. It's
one of the reasons that this whole ensemble thing works." A small grin curled across my face. "There
you go, I think I've found the name for our new little organization."
"I've also got tickets to a locked room with soft walls," Gwen offered. "If you were interested."
She set down the rifle, loaded up a magazine, and snorted. "Regale me, o glorious leader. What shall
we be named?"
"Unity," I said.
Gwen eyed me for a moment. "It's. . . short. And unpretentious."
"Kinda like you."
"Please. I'm no paragon of humility."
"But you like it."
"It's not bad," she admitted. "Got a nice ring to it."
"I'll make sure we all get some printed polo shirts," I assured her.
"Fuck that." Gwen stifled a yawn. "I'm getting horizontal. Want to join me?"
"I'd take you up on that, but I'm too wired to sleep," I admitted. "Sleep well."
Gwen straightened up and left me alone with my thoughts at the table.
Chapter 39
I woke up on one of the training mats the next morning, when Chuck slid through the side door.
My eyes flitted open, and I was up in a crouch before he managed to close the door behind him on his
way to the kitchen. Fighting off the post-sleep fuzzies, I rose to my feet and faked a glare at his
amused expression.
"I've got beds, you know," he told me.
"I'd say someone should've been on watch, but I forgot we were in a giant concrete coffin. Plus I
prefer to sleep rough. What time is it?"
"0700. Enough time for coffee. And we've had a delivery."
Excitement flared in my gut. "Silver crate?"
"Got it in one. I'll bring it down now if you get the coffee started."
"Say no more, simply point me toward the Venezuelan ambrosia."
Chuck dropped a bag of beans next to a sleek coffee machine that reminded me of a 70s
roadster, before heading upstairs to the ground floor of the warehouse. I started the coffee machine,
filled the air with the smell of South American grinds, and whipped up five mugs of coffee as quickly
as I could.
It'd been a while since I'd made my own, but I'd spent enough time in hipster cafes undercover
to know the tricks around making the perfect brew and how annoying a man-bun could be to maintain.
Giselle was the first of my team to make an appearance. She stepped out into Chuck's living
room with bright eyes focused on the mugs in my hands. Her hair was up in a messy bun that hit my
glands hard enough to warrant mild readjustment of my trousers.
I handed her a mug as she sauntered up to the kitchen. She stared down at the milk froth with
the same kind of animalistic lust I'd seen on her face in bed.
"Did you sleep?" Giselle asked as she took a long sip.
"Pretty well actually. How'd you pull up?"
"Took hours," she admitted. "Can't get the nerves to go away."
"That's the problem with pre-planned carnage," I said. "Shit always weighs on your mind before
things get started. Too many variables and things that could go wrong."
"As opposed to knee-jerk carnage?" she asked.
"You kinda don't have an opportunity to think about it then," I pointed out.
"True enough," she agreed. "Where's Chuck?"
Gwen's top merc pushed open the door with a grunt and wheeled in one of the big crate with the
SilverSky Industries logo I'd seen among the piles of crap in my dad's hideout over Northside. Chuck
pushed it over to the table and strolled back to the kitchen to collect his own mug of liquid life with a
grunt of thanks.
I found a tray, carried the other coffees over to the main table, and combed my eyes over my
dad's gift to us. The crate didn't look like anything special, but it also didn't have any visible seals or
locks, either, which puzzled me. I laid a hand on top of the smooth, cool metal, and felt something
click under my touch.
The top opened up with a whirring buzz. A platform raised itself up with a hiss of cool air from
the depths of the crate. I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but it sure as hell hadn't been four belts.
Each of them had a neat business card beside them to identify the owners. I picked up Giselle's
and turned it over in my hands. The material had to be synthetic. I'd have guessed it was leather by the
looks. There was, however, a subtle weight to the thing that didn't match its appearance. Small silver
studs ran along its length.
 "That's a superhero suit?" Giselle asked, confused.
I handed it to her with a shrug. "I guess. Try it on?"
Giselle set down her coffee mug, snaked it through the belt loops of her business slacks, and
cinched it shut around her hips. A stylized 'S' letter sat where the buckle was supposed to be, and she
toyed with it for a moment.
The pressure of her touch spun the buckle around forty-five degrees, and the metal studs
shifted.
Tiny threads lunged up from the belt, caught onto her rumpled clothes, and instantly changed
her entire outfit. The blouse and pants bled away as smooth fabric tightened around her body, traveled
down her bare arms, and hardened into proper gloves at her fingertips. The slacks tightened around her
strong, dancer's legs, and a pair of sleek, form-fitting boots slid into existence around her feet like
magic.
Giselle yelped, staggered backward, and caught her balance. A sleek, stylish domino-mask
appeared around her face to finish the look, and I stared at her in awe.
The entire process had taken less than a second.
Dark, bluish-gray took up the bulk of her outfit's color scheme, but subtle scarlet highlights
snaked down her sides and up under her arms. Giselle reached up, pulled her hair out of its bun, and
stared down at her gloved hands in utter shock. She tightened her hands experimentally and rolled her
shoulders in their sockets to test the suit's mobility.
My gaze roamed up and down, unable to decide where to settle on her gorgeous skin-tight-
leather wrapped figure.
"What the fuck?" Gwen interrupted.
The leader of the Basement paced briskly over to us, her baffled eyes never leaving Giselle's
new suit.
Chuck let out a low whistle as Giselle took a few steps and got a feel for the catsuit costume. I
couldn't fault my old man for his aesthetic choices. The outfit showed off every curve Giselle had at
her disposal, drew attention to her amazing chest and long, strong legs, and even had sections on her
belt for a knife and gun if she needed it.
A salacious grin crossed Giselle's face as she saw my expression.
"My ass looks amazing in this, right?"
"Amazing enough it probably needs its own billing," I agreed. "Holy shit."
Giselle took a half-skipping step and launched effortlessly into a perfect cartwheel. The
movement just demanded attention to the way the suit looked on her, and my mouth went dry at the
simplicity and elegance of it.
Gwen slurped coffee and glanced at the silver crate. Chuck tossed her the Ordnance belt. She
caught it, clasped it around her waist, and raised her eyebrows at Giselle's shit-eating grin.
"How does it work?"
"Try the belt buckle," Giselle replied.
Gwen's fingers hit the hidden switch built into the belt, and a suit snapped over her body like
magic. The gym shorts and tank top vanished under some kind of kevlar-metal armor hybrid. A sleek
series of hyper-tensile plates appeared over her chest, shoulders, and arms, linked with tough-looking
material that reminded me of chainmail. A dual-belt setup materialized around Gwen's hips, complete
with holsters on either thigh, and more of the same muted-steel armor to cover her shins and main
vitals.
A faceless helmet appeared around her head, closed in around her skull, and sealed her features
away from the world. Gwen hissed a curse at the sensation of it, and I took in the finished product
with a grin that threatened to dislocate my jaw.
Gwen's Ordnance costume made me think of a hyper-sophisticated suit of cutting-edge armor,
all muted gray metal and dark green material. Bright orange lines rolled through the green material,
reminiscent of warning tape around industrial accidents, and her expressionless mask reminded me
quite a bit of Scourge's own costume.
"Don't suppose you've got a mirror out here somewhere?" Gwen asked.
Her voice came out lower and raspier than her normal tone. It wasn't exactly male, besides
Gwen's own assets made it impossible to think of her as a guy, but the suit looked much better suited
to combat than Giselle's. Despite the heavy armor, the lines and design and the tight skin-suit bits left
very little of her lower body to the imagination.
I had a vivid image of her tight upturned rump as she lay on her face, sniping away.
Chuck shook his head with a grin that matched mine.
"How the hell does all of that fit into a belt?" Giselle asked.
"I'm not the Craftsman," I said. "No idea."
"It's flexible," Gwen said, and threw an experimental punch. The suit didn't impede her
movement in the slightest, and she let out an impressed grunt. "Visibility's good, no issues with
hearing. Just need to know how bulletproof it is, and we'll be golden."
"Load up on some guns," I suggested. "See how well it carries your gear."
Gwen turned back to the pile of weapons she'd left behind last night.
Piper let out a surprised gasp as she filed into the room and spotted the others. I picked up the
belt labeled 'Paladin', and my own, and bounded over to her. I couldn't wait to see how we all shaped
up in our outfits.
My dad had toed the perfect line between functional, distinctive, and memorable, and as I cast
my eyes back over Giselle and Gwen, I had to admit, it did an excellent job of obscuring their
identities, too.
Giselle's domino mask was big enough that it covered up the distinctive lines of her nose and
cheekbones. Meanwhile, Gwen looked like a high-tech soldier had stepped straight out of a rift into
the future. The Tin Men didn't have shit on the sleekness and style of her armor.
A visibly super excited Piper took the belt and slid it around her waist.
"Pretty interesting design," I said. "Dad do this for all the Pinnacle supers?"
"Are you kidding?" Piper asked. "No, we had to get in and out of our spandex. Could take ages.
I haven't ever seen anything like this before." She closed the clasp on her belt, stepped away from me,
and toyed with the little metal studs for a moment.
"Here," I warned her, and twisted her belt buckle.
Piper's Paladin outfit flashed out, morphed into her clothes, and left her in a stunning gold-and-
white ensemble that tore my breath straight out of my lungs. Dad hadn't just leaned into the white-
knight theme. He'd ripped it straight off, reconstructed it, and forged something utterly new with it.
Piper's body disappeared under a suit of sleek, ivory material. It wasn't form-fitting in the same
way that Giselle's was, but it definitely clung to her hips and calves, and I got the impression I was
looking at some kind of imperial duelist monk from a fantasy world. A wide sash billowed
asymmetrically over one hip with golden trimming in the design of a classic warrior's crest.
Tall, knee-high boots protected her shins and calves, and an eye-catching breastplate of white
and gold slid up around her chest and shoulders. Piper's left hand vanished underneath a protective
gauntlet, bright with more gold trim that cascaded down over her whole arm in spirals until they met
at each of her fingertips. Her other arm didn't have the same armor-plating, but a low-slung utility belt
sat on her right hip, in easy reach of her lighter hand. A hood rolled up over her shoulders to obscure
her head, and underneath it, a pale veil hid her features from the world.
"Must look amazing." Piper laughed. "You look like all your dreams just came true."
I turned back to the others with an ornate, flourishing gesture. Giselle's eyes widened when she
saw the team's combat medic step past me, and she gave the outfit a thorough eyeing.
With a deep breath, I slid the belt around my own hips, and said a silent prayer that my old man
hadn't decided to turn me into a stage magician or court jester.
A flash of full-body static hit my nervous system like an electric shock, and I grimaced as my
clothes writhed all over my body. My suit shifted around my body like a nest of twisting vipers, and
something slid over my face but left my hair alone.
I opened my eyes and watched my hands. Gloves that left my fingertips bare covered my hands,
and a sleek jacket formed around my regular suit coat. It dropped down almost to mid-thigh, added an
extra bit of style and flair to my outfit, and comfortable, hardy boots covered my bare feet.
The original suit had been a simple black. The super suit had a subtle sheen to it that both
caught the eye and deepened the black into something that shimmered when it hit the light. The mask
around my face was soft, fitted my features without emphasizing them too much.
As I pulled the coat aside, I found in-built rigs for a heavy pistol, a knife, and straps for
something bigger, like a sawn-off shotgun. A grin touched my face, and I turned to the rest of my
team, who all stared at me like I was some kind of ghost. I glanced down at my lapel and found a
strange play-card design with all four suites stitched into each corner of it.
"Let me guess," I said. "I look like someone who doesn't get let into casinos."
"Or the guy who jumps out of the slot machines when someone wins something," Gwen
snarked, "and steals all their earnings to give back to the pit boss."
"Should spook the supers out of gambling away their ill-gotten gains, then."
"You look great, Dean," Piper assured me. "Suits you. It really does."
Chuck's eyes darted between us approvingly. And why wouldn't he, we looked damn amazing.
I sauntered back over to my coffee. I tapped the buckle on my belt, fashioned in the same
playing-card motif. That same static-shock sensation washed over my body.
My clothes rippled back into the bespoke suit I'd been wearing earlier, and I shook my head at
the sheer ingenuity of Brandon's engineering. I had absolutely no idea how he'd managed to pull it off,
and I wondered if the belts needed to be plugged in or something to make sure that they were fully-
charged and ready for use.
The girls followed my lead, un-superd themselves back into gorgeous, bed-crumpled
supermodels, and we collectively attacked the coffee as only addicts could.
I glanced over the crate again and searched for any notes that my dad might have left behind.
Another coded slip of paper sat nestled in the middle of the raised platform, and I opened it up,
curious and excited all at the same time.
I felt like a kid at Christmas.
Something about the outfits gave us a sense of legitimacy, like we were stepping up onto a
playing field that Pinnacle owned. I couldn't wait to get to test them in action.

Chapter 40
The message was short, simple, but I could hear my dad's voice and the warmth in his tone as I
decoded it.

Main Story Quest Completed. Rewards Within.

 The Raid Awaits. Good Hunting, and Good Luck.

I grinned at the message, dropped it back into the crate, and pressed the side of the steel box
with my fingers. It hissed shut at my touch, and I took another long pull of caffeinated goodness
before I strolled over to the table, scooped up a 9mm, and tossed it to Gwen.
She caught it out of reflex, and managing to avoid spilling coffee. I turned on my heel and made
a beeline for the firing range. I gave my belt buckle a tap as I went and endured another burst of weird,
squirming static.
My superhero skin slid over my suit again, and I vaulted over the wall that led into the concrete
death-box.
"Dean, what the fuck--"
"We need to test these outfits," I called out to her, and held out my arms, inviting free shots.
Gwen set down her mug, dropped the mag out of the gun, and shook her head. "No! No fucking
way. I'm not going to put a bullet through you before we get this mission started."
"Dean, are you sure?" Giselle asked.
I nodded. "We have to know. Gwen's got the accuracy to make sure she doesn't accidently clip
me in the head. Piper, how good are you on blunt force trauma?"
"Fine," Piper said, "but you're crazy."
I glanced around the inside of the shooting pit and turned my eyes back to Gwen.
She kept shaking her head, bounced the magazine in her hand, and gritted her teeth.
I could see curiosity fighting with years of age-old gun wisdom in her head. Any guy in the
firing line was a casualty, and I was pretty much waving off just about every bit of sense in my own
training just to see how good my dad could build a suit of armor.
"Come on, Gwen. It's not the craziest thing I've asked you to do."
"It's up there," she assured me.
Giselle laid a hand on Piper's shoulder. "Are you sure you can fix him?"
Piper took a long, hard look at the gun in Gwen's hand, and nodded once. "Yeah."
Gwen took a couple of long, striding steps forward, and met my eye with a steely gaze.
"Last chance before I change my mind," she warned me.
"Just don't hit me in the nuts," I said.
Gwen let a breath hiss out of her teeth, raised the gun, and drilled me in the shoulder before my
reflexes could so much as twitch. A sledgehammer crashed into my arm and blew me back half a step.
It didn't puncture my spendy new outfit though.
A lead slug dropped away from my shoulder as I brushed it off and grinned. Gwen lowered the
gun again with a shake of her head.
"You're certifiably fucking insane," she told me venomously.
"Maybe," I said, and vaulted back over the barrier. "But they work."
"Against small arms, sure," Gwen argued. "What about rifle rounds?"
"Who makes all your spider-silk outfits?" I countered.
"Independent contractor," Gwen said. "And they're still shaky around rifles."
"Safe assumption they're at the same level of armor or better," I assured her. "Dad doesn't fuck
around when it comes to making sure we've got the best gear possible. Giselle, you're up."
Giselle's eyes widened. "You want Gwen to shoot me?"
"Don't be ridiculous." I laughed. "I want you to knife me."
 She huffed a sigh of resignation, drew my blade out of its sheath on the table, and came at me in
a blur of smooth skin and muscular curves.
Instinct had me bring my arms up to shield my vitals. Like oil on water, the razor-sharp edges of
the weapon skidded harmlessly off the material of my coat. Giselle didn't let up. She rotated into a
vicious underhand stab toward my gut. Years of experience had me catch her arm against my forearm,
but the tip of the dagger still hit my gut with enough force to punch an inch or so into my skin.
It hurt like hell, but the shimmery fabric turned the weapon aside again. It just left me with a
numb chunk in my belly that felt as if I'd caught a body shot from a heavyweight boxer.
"Okay, slash-proof too," I noted. "Good to know."
Giselle took a step back, rubbed her arm with a grimace, and dropped the knife back into its
sheath. "One of these days, Dean, we're going to get you admitted somewhere where you can get some
help."
"Once we're done with Pinnacle, I'll get therapy," I promised.
"Bullet and knife resistant," Piper said, her eyes wide. "Damn, that's impressive."
"On par with most super outfits?" I asked.
She nodded. "But these ones are a lot more portable and lightweight."
The dark-haired beauty laid a hand on my shoulder, and golden light flared under her fingertips.
A flush of hot sensation rolled through my entire arm, and the throbbing pain from Gwen's bullet
subsided. Piper let her hand fall down over my chest, where I'd caught the last blow from Giselle's
attack.
A second later, the pain receded. I knew most of it had to do with Piper's Healing Hands, but I
was willing to bet that my own activated Resilience power helped take the edge off it.
Gwen's phone rang as I slid back into my civilian wear. She slid the old-school smartphone out
of her pocket, immediately answered it, and switched the thing over into speakerphone. Billy's
accented voice filled the room.
"Gwen, we're in position. Place is getting busy."
Gwen dropped the phone down onto the table, circled it to find a duffel bag. She loaded her rifle
into it with a couple of pistols and other gear she'd need for our mission. "Talk to me."
"Place is exactly as it looked yesterday. No eyes on any suspects just yet."
"Pinnacle?"
"Just their goons, no supers. Police presence is minimal." Billy paused. "There's so many people
coming in and out. Lot of flights being delayed, too. Are you sure about your intel?"
"Dead certain," Gwen said grimly. "We're on our way. Chuck, pull the van around?"
"On it, boss," the giant said, and made a beeline for the exit.
"Guessing that the rest of your little entourage is there?"
"Hey, Bill," I greeted him. "Have a good night?"
"If this turns out to be a colossal waste of time, I'm gonna kick your ass," he growled.
"I hope that it is, honestly," I said. "But it lines up with what we know. Pinnacle needs
something loud and messy to remind people that they're still relevant and strong after the shit we've
put them through. Keep your eye out for anyone who doesn't fit."
"Not my first rodeo," Billy said.
"Reflex," I said. "Used to working with amateurs."
"Okay, now I'm definitely gonna kick your ass."
"Try it once we're done." I glanced over at the girls, who finished their coffees, and followed
Chuck toward the stairs. "Before then, anything you can give us is a goldmine. More warning we
have, the better it is for the people around you. Any obvious tails?"
 "Nothing," Billy confirmed. "Call you back."
He hung up, and I scooped up the phone, drained the last of my coffee, and followed Gwen
outside. She declined my unspoken offer to carry her bag with a glare, and I shut the door behind us as
we hit the dimly lit hallways. Gwen took the stairs two at a time, with the bulky duffle bouncing off
her back.
Two minutes later, we piled into the back of Chuck's trusty van. It'd pulled double duty as an
ambulance and a gasfitter's mobile repair station before. Now the thing just looked like a regular
family cruiser, one heavily stocked with surveillance equipment.
As I took a bench seat beside Piper, Gwen tossed each of us an in-ear communicator. I slipped
the thing into my ear, did a quick sound check, and then leaned back against the wall of the vehicle to
take a few deep breaths. I handed Gwen back her phone and passed Officer Carter's business card to
Piper.
Her eyes widened at the sight of it. "You're going to call her?"
"Chuck is," I said. "Once we're inside, we need to get the authorities in fast. We're planning for
the worst-case scenario here. Pinnacle's artificial disaster is likely to go ballistic when he sees us. I
want to get as many EMTs and emergency people evacuating people as fast as we can."
Piper nodded, took the card, and fought off a shiver. Giselle placed a reassuring hand on her
arm.
Gwen clicked her belt buckle, instantly switched over into her Ordnance outfit, and strapped a
gun to her thigh with a grunt of satisfaction. She hung a couple of magazines of pistol and rifle ammo
off the bandolier around her waist, checking her weapons as we moved.
She handed Giselle a compact pistol and the taller blonde followed her example. She checked
the chamber and slid the gun onto her belt without a comment.
Nervous tension hung in the air as we made sure our loads were good.
Our equipment was ready, and we were ready to move.
"This feels huge," Giselle said, breaking the silence.
"I guess it makes trying to break into an office building seem pretty small by comparison,
right?"
"Feels like forever ago," she agreed. "But I'm serious. This is massive. There hasn't been
something like this in Empyrion in years. The odd supervillain might turn up, blow up a few cars and
terrorize a suburb, but they never got the chance to hurt this many people at once."
"Shows you how desperate they are," Gwen said. "I've been keeping an eye on the feeds on
social media. We've been going harder and harder on them since the Outreach Center, and pointed out
that their compounds getting raided is a sign that they're not as in control as they'd like to be."
Piper gulped. "So we've pushed them to this?"
I shook my head. "They already had it planned," I reminded her. "You knew about it before I
even turned up here. This was always on the agenda. They're just more desperate to make it happen
now. Which is why we've got to get in there before they do."
"Guess you're right. Doesn't make me feel any better about it," Piper said.
"You've got us with you now," I assured her. "We'll all get through this."
"Now you're just jinxing it," Chuck called cheerily from the front seat.
"I wish we knew more about this ticking time bomb they've planted in there," Giselle said,
deliberately ignoring Chuck's levity. "What their powers might be, what kind of damage they could
cause."
"Me too," I agreed. "But at least we're in the same wheelhouse we've always been."
"And what's that?" Piper asked.
 "We improvise."
Another half hour or so passed, until the van pulled a halt. A screen on the back of Chuck's chair
flared to life, flickering with live camera feed.
It took me a second to realize that Billy and Javier had given us eyes inside the terminal. They
hadn't been kidding. People rushed through the airport, swarms and swarms of them.
I checked the time on the corner of the screen. We arrived at 0934, less than an hour from the
attack.
I glanced over my team, all nerves and guns and adrenaline, and gave them all a nod.
I put on my Wildcard skin and hauled the door open.
"Keep her hot for us, Chuck," I said. "Call the police when we give you the word."
"Roger," Chuck said tersely, and took the business card from Piper.
The girls suited up as they stepped out, and I took in our surroundings in a rush of sensation.
Chuck had parked us outside arrivals, away from the taxi rank. We were close to a cordoned-off area
that gave side access to the terminal.
I holstered the super-stopper under my arm and made sure my knife was stashed in my coat
beside it. All set, I gestured for Piper to join my side as I made a beeline for the side entrance.
"Do you want to take point on this, or should I?" I asked her in an undertone.
"You talk to them," Piper replied in a whisper. "I'll cut in if I need to."
The side-door was guarded by four guys in police uniforms. They did a double-take as we
pressed toward them, and I watched hands drop to the butts of sidearms as they spotted Gwen behind
me with an assault rifle slung over her chest.
I made a negative gesture to calm them down with as much authority as I could manage behind
a mask. They hesitated. It gave me time to usher the others up behind me, and I took quick stock of
the officers before us.
One burly guy with a bristling mustache took a step forward and raised a hand. He looked like
the leader.
"This area's off-limits, sir," the officer barked.
"We've received word that there's going to be an attack," I shot back. "Are you guys actually
filtering anyone coming in and out of the terminal?"
The cops glanced at each other in a rapid panic, and I used their uncertainty to press the
psychological advantage for everything it was worth. I couldn't afford to let them slow down and ask
us for official hero licenses. The last thing I wanted to do in my first minute of debut as a public
superhero was deck a police officer. But I'd do it, if I had to.
"We haven't heard anything," Mr. Mustachio replied, but his voice faltered.
"There are lives on the line," I told him. "Call it in, get as many civilians as you can out of
there. We got sent in to start the evac, make sure that we minimize any casualties."
The guy stared at me, stunned, and I fixed him with a glare.
"You've got three seconds, officer, and then I'm going in through that door. I don't want to have
to tell you how to do your job, and I don't need you to tell me how to do mine."
The cop hesitated for one second more, and then leaned back into his radio. He gestured for the
other officers to clear out of the way as he called it in.
I pushed through the side door without further comment. I could hear Gwen choking back a
laugh as we slid into the bustling terminal. The sheer noise and momentum of the crowd hit me like a
punch, and I rapidly checked the upper levels for any sign of snipers or elevated attackers. No obvious
lunatics appeared, which irritated me, but Billy's voice came in over the comms, which helped my
mood.
 "Fucking hell, is that you?" he said.
"Nah, we're Pinnacle," I replied sarcastically. "It's been a front this entire time."
"Billy, any sign? Javier, spotted any suspects?" Gwen cut in.
"Nothing--" Billy began.
A booming voice echoed through the terminal, over the PA system. "All customers, please
evacuate now. This is not a drill. Please move calmly and quickly to the nearest exit. Leave your
luggage. Repeat, this is not a drill. Please evacuate calmly and quickly."
The crowd around us hesitated for a long moment. Hundreds of pairs of eyes instinctively rolled
up to the hidden speakers, wondering where the noise had come from.
I took the opportunity to plunge into the mass of bodies. Gwen took my right flank, and once
some of them saw the gun in her hands, they jerked away in a hurry. The same message echoed over
the PA system, again and again, and a panicked surge of people pushed around us. The mass of
humanity around us reminded me of a tide. People shoved past us, crushed against each other, and
suddenly Javier's voice echoed in my ear urgently.
"Far end, first level, on the seats. Big coat, not moving off the chair."
"Fuck," I snarled. "Ordnance, get up on the second level and find the others. I need eyes on
everything, and I need them now. Paladin, you're with me. I need you between this guy and people
around us, understand? Shadow, get to a wall and follow it. Circle around behind and get a flank if
you can manage it."
My team didn't question me for a single second.
Ordnance spun on her heel, shouted at people to move, and bulldogged her way headfirst into
the crowd like she was breasting a wave. Shadow vanished into the mass of people, and strands of
darkness followed her to obscure her from sight. Paladin gripped my arm from the left, and we pushed
and shoved and fought our way through the confused and horrified crowd as fast as we could.
"How do we know that's him?" Paladin shouted.
"Everyone with two brain cells can hear the PA," I fired back. "If it's not him, then someone's
already died. Either way, we can't afford to be wrong about it--"
"Tin Men incoming," Javier snarled.
Paladin and I waded our way free of the crowd and found ourselves in the huge open-floored
section before the security checkouts. Ten Pinnacle operatives in their electronic armor sprinted into
the center of the floor, bringing up their smart-rifles to cover us.
I raised my hands to show them I was unarmed, silently fighting the gripping need to drop them
with a couple of well-placed shots with my super-stopper. The white-and-gold-clad superheroine
skidded to a halt beside me.
One of the troopers marched forward, his rifle shouldered, and brought it to bear on my head. I
spotted a flash of green and gray above his head. Ordnance whipped her rifle around to cover the idiot
who had his weapon pointed at my skull. Past the wall of metal-augmented meatheads, behind security
screens, I spotted a single figure lounging on a row of chairs.
Billy hadn't been kidding, and unless I missed my guess, the threat was right behind us.
"Halt!" the Tin Man shouted.
"Halted," I fired back. "Listen, you need to get better trigger discipline, there's people behind
me. You miss that shot and you'll kill someone's granddaughter--"
"Shut the fuck up!" the Pinnacle operative bellowed.
I closed my mouth, but only just.
The Tin Men must have noticed our approach, and they'd gotten word from their higher-ups to
slow us down. These idiots wouldn't have thought to check our story with the police, or actually look
around for themselves.
All they'd done was blindly follow orders, not bothering to use a single brain cell to try and
figure out what they'd walked into, or what was about to happen.
"You're impersonating Pinnacle personnel. We've got no one matching your description on our
records. Take off that mask and get on your knees. The bitch, too. And do it slow."
"Say the word and I'll blow his jaw off his head," Ordnance said.
"Nonlethal shot, and wait for my signal," I said back.
She cursed but didn't pull the trigger on the idiot in front of me.
The other Tin Men fanned out until they had us in a semi-circle of fire. The mass of people
behind us were still fighting each other to get out of the terminal, and the sudden stand-off had them
more scared than ever. Shouts and screams and voices filled the place, but I didn't follow the Tin
Man's instructions, either. I couldn't afford to.
"Get on your fucking knees!" the Tin Man howled.
Something flared over his shoulder, and my eyes shot to the solitary figure I'd seen rocking back
and forth on his seat. The cloaked figure straightened up lazily, took a staggering step away from the
chair, and lifted his hands.
Something violently orange flared under his skin, and I shoved Paladin behind me as a spine-
shaking explosion suddenly rippled out from the other side of the security screen. A giant fireball of
force punched out, shattering glass screens and slagging machinery and metal detectors.
Two of the Tin Men didn't get clear in time. Their metal shells fused to their flesh from the
sheer violence of the explosion.
It hit me in the chest like a wrecking ball, and I heard Paladin grunt beside me. We got swept by
the blast. Arms around my head, I rocketed across the polished doors, and slammed into something
solid.
The Tin Men crashed to the ground ahead of us, pancaked by the force of the attack.
I heard Ordnance curse above us. Javier and Billy's voices erupted through the comms in a mix
of Spanish and French profanity, and I hauled myself up onto my elbows as the screaming started.
Stampeding feet and howls of agony rippled through the arrivals terminal, and my gut lurched
as I hauled myself up to my feet.
We'd been right, but we hadn't been fast enough.
Pinnacle had placed a literal suicide bomber right in the terminal.
And it was up to us to stop him.

Chapter 41
A foot caught me in the gut as the crowd behind me shook off their stunned shock and exploded
into pandemonium. The Tin Men stirred on the ground with lagging reflexes, still reeling from the
blast.
I dodged another stomping pair of feet as a middle-aged trucker surged over me. I rolled over
my shoulder, came up to my feet, and shook my head to clear it. The blast had scrambled my circuits,
too, but my Resilience and distance from the blast zone had taken the edge off the worst of the impact.
I sprinted forward, drew the heavy revolver from under my arm, and thumbed back the hammer
as I went. A white, hooded figure appeared beside me and caught hold of my shoulder as I moved. A
deliciously warm thrill raced through my body. Aches and bruises I hadn't even noticed faded away at
Paladin's touch, and a fresh dump of adrenaline spread through my bloodstream like a wildfire.
"Ordnance, status?" I said.
 "Visibility's low," she reported groggily. "No eyes on target."
I fixed my eyes on the ruined security station and spotted the supervillain.
He swayed on the spot almost drunkenly. Weird spots of orange light shone out from his hands,
neck, and from under his clothes. He looked sick and weak, not like a serious threat, but the sheer
carnage he'd carved into the terminal was enough to convince me that he needed to go down, and fast.
"Shadow?" I asked as I leapt over a dazed Tin Man.
"I've got his back," my ninja compatriot replied. "Want me to take a shot?"
"Safe bet he's bulletproof. And we need to push him out of here, not toward the civs. I need you
back here, getting people to safety. Can't lose you to a blast like that."
Shadow muttered a curse but didn't argue. A mass of darkness appeared through a cloud of dust
on my right and melted into sight. She streaked toward us in a blaze of black leather and strawberry-
blonde hair, and I glanced up at the top of the security screen.
Ordnance's distinctive helmet appeared after a moment, and she swiveled toward the main
threat with turret-like efficiency. She dropped a magazine out of her rifle and clicked in another with
practiced, instinctual movements.
"Lethal load incoming," Ordnance said.
A rifle shot rang out.
The supervillain staggered as a hole appeared in his chest, and another searing ray of orange
light blasted free of the wound. The world turned into another mass of gray and red, and dust clouded
the air as the exploding man evaporated a chunk of the terminal wall.
Linoleum cracked and melted under the sheer intensity of the blast, and I heard my shooter
curse as she was ripped off her feet. Paladin hesitated beside me for a single moment, stared at the
screaming lunatic with nitroglycerin instead of blood, and whirled to face me.
"How are we supposed to get close to that?" she demanded.
Beside me, one of the Tin Men pushed himself up to a confused crouch. He shouldered his rifle
and tried to draw a bead on the bad guy ahead of us, with shaky aim. I snapped my fingers, and
Shadow appeared beside him and slammed a kick into his jaw. The Tin Man fell back on his ass,
stunned, and Shadow tore the weapon out of his hand with a twist of her hips and her greater-than-
natural strength.
Giselle spun the weapon over in her hands and clubbed the Pinnacle enforcer over the side of
the head with the smart-rifle like a major-league ball player. The Tin Man collapsed onto the floor, out
for the count. Shadow tossed the rifle away with a disgusted shake of her head.
"We need a plan," Ordnance coughed, from above. "Bullets aren't doing it, and we need him out
of here. What's the play?"
I started toward the security screening station and ordered my thoughts into something
resembling sanity. The Exploding Man could direct his own blasts toward a target, but a single bullet
had set off another reaction and done even more damage to the terminal. We didn't know who was still
in the depths of the airport taking cover, and we were on a clock before Pinnacle showed up.
I glanced at Paladin, thought back to the Barrier technique, and hoped to hell that it could stand
up against blast damage. If we hit him hard enough with enough blunt force, it was possible to push
him out of here without triggering another million dollars' worth of property damage.
Maybe.
It was worth a shot.
"Halt!" one of the Tin Men screamed out from behind me. "Fall back!"
I glanced over my shoulder and noted that Pinnacle's flunkies were already recovering from the
first initial attack and getting their collective brain cell online. I couldn't afford to let them get in the
way, but I couldn't just take the opening to kill them, either.
Cameras were watching our every move, and I wanted to make absolutely sure that everything
we did was favorable to us down the line. If we were going to stick it to Pinnacle, we had to make
absolutely sure that our noses were clean when we were out in the open like this.
"You going to do something about that?" I demanded.
"You're in breach of your responsibilities, civilian! You take one more step, and I'll put you
down!" the Tin Man raved.
Shadow turned to face him, and a smirk crossed her features. "O glorious leader?"
"Keep 'em off me," I agreed. "No killing, nonlethal disables, alright? Ordnance, make sure no
one tries to put a bullet in her back."
"Roger," Gwen said.
Ordnance slung her rifle over her shoulder and vaulted over the edge of the walkway. She
caught the railing, swung around to cling onto it for a moment, and snaked her way down to the floor.
She landed, rolling to break the worst of the fall and coming up with her weapon at the ready.
I turned to Paladin and gestured for her to follow me. We raced into the ruins of the security
screening station, and she gulped in a deep breath as we went.
"Plan?" the healer asked breathlessly.
"Throw up a shield when we get close," I said.
She nodded and held up her hand. We ran through melted plastic, torn benches, swinging,
sparking wires, and a semi-translucent field of energy appeared in front of us in a wide quarter-dome.
I slowed my pace as we got closer to the supervillain. He was a large-framed man, but he
looked thin, drawn, and his cheekbones stuck out of his face like knives. Weird orange rashes dotted
his skin as he staggered back away from us.
Paladin matched my pace, kept herself close to my side, and she angled her barrier of will to
keep us covered from another blast of explosive energy.
"Boss?" Paladin whispered.
"Wait a second," I breathed.
I hadn't been able to negotiate with the crazed experiments in the Outreach Center. They'd been
too far gone. But the guy in front of us, despite the danger he presented, was a Pinnacle product.
There was a slim chance that I could get some kind of information out of him, something that
could expose the superhero company to the public. Every instinct I had screamed at me to deal with
the threat, to put him down, and stop him from hurting anyone else.
But I had to roll the dice. I had to try.
The figure swayed as we approached and raised his hands up again.
"What did they do to you?" I called out. "I know you don't want to do this. Talk to me. Someone
made you like this, turned you into this. You tell me who they are, and we'll find a way to make them
pay. I swear."
The tall, emaciated super swayed on his feet a little. His eyes were too wide, too red, but he
heard me, and half-lowered his hands as Piper and I edged forward behind her protective barrier.
Gunfire roared behind us as the Tin Men clashed with the rest of my team, but I blocked it out.
My eye-contact held steady with the crazed science experiment, willing him to calm down.
"You-you--" He staggered a step and clasped his shoulder. "You're one of them."
"Trust me, man, I didn't want any of this," I called. "Lower your hands. I don't want to hurt you
any more than I have to, I swear. Just talk to me. How did you end up here?"
"Needles and lights and glasses," he rasped. "So many, so much pain--"
"Where? Who? Who did this to you?"
 "The people with the masks," he slurred. "Masks and bright lights--"
Something smashed into my exposed back like a runaway freight train. I collapsed forward on
my hands and knees as my breath ripped itself out of my lungs.
Paladin cried out, but she didn't lower the shield for a second.
Numbness crept through my upper back, and I slammed a fist into my gut, willed air back into
my lungs with everything that I had. The engineered-supervillain's eyes fixed on me in shock, and
another shot rang out.
It whipped past Paladin's ear, tugged at her hood, and crashed into the exploding man's side.
He fell back, almost in slow motion. Another flash of orange light cascaded out from his ribs. A
directed explosion radiated out, slammed into the shield of energy, and blew Paladin and me across the
floor like ragdolls.
I covered up my head, rolled crazily over the smooth floor. A bolted row of chairs broke my
momentum, their metal bending. White stars flashed behind my vision, my lungs screamed for air, and
a high-pitched ringing blanked my hearing. I turned my head, sent a ripple of agony down my spine,
and spotted Piper.
She was curled up on the floor, unmoving.
More bullets skipped on the ground around us as I forced myself up to my feet. I staggered,
caught hold of the chairs beside me, and fought off the torrent of pain that came with getting slung
around like a child's doll.
The wounded, gasping source of the explosions turned and ran. He fled across the floor in a
lurching stride and raced through the rows of gift stores and magazine stands. I forced myself after
him, ripped breaths back into my lungs, and fought through the shooting pains in my back.
The fleeing guy in the coat was a victim. But he was twice as dangerous as the Tin Men, and I'd
had him chatting. One of the bastards in armor must have shot me in the back as I tried to talk him
down, interrupting my interrogation.
I scrambled past the stores, jumping over a fallen sign that advertised Pinnacle-branded
clothing. The airport opened up into a long series of wide corridors. Escalators snaked up the sides and
granted access to higher platforms that admitted customers to the passenger jets.
The exploding experiment was racing up one of them with limping strides.
Alarms howled overhead. An urgent voice shouted for people to evacuate over the PA. Small
clusters of people scrambled past me with terrified eyes to try and find the exits.
"Get clear!" I shouted, and my voice rang out weirdly in my ears.
The exploding man hit the top of the escalators, shooting me a terrified glance. He bolted for
one of the gates that led out onto the airstrip. I dug into my stamina to keep pace with him. He might
have been bleeding, wounded, and busted up, but he sure could run like an Olympic sprinter.
I waved my arms to get more civilians clear, lunged over the gate, and tracked him through the
tunnel. The runaway super glanced over his shoulder. He saw me incoming and panicked. He lifted his
hands and another ray of orange light washed out of the rashes on his hands.
The blast rocked him back on his heels, blowing out the side of the jet bridge. Air filled with the
stench of molten metal and burned carpet. The wave of force slammed into me, but it wasn't enough to
stop my momentum, and I crashed into the guy's back in a tackle that would have made any football
fan proud.
We shot through the hole in the side of the access tunnel, dropped almost ten feet, and smashed
into the tarmac.
I managed to roll as I hit the ground, but only barely. My lungs emptied themselves again in
protest, and I tumbled over onto my hands and knees. I still maintained a death-grip on my super-
stopper, and the bright morning sun washed down onto my back as I straightened up and took a half-
limping step backward.
The man of many explosions pushed himself up with trembling arms until he was on his hands
and knees. He stared up at me like I was a demon from his worst nightmares.
"I want to talk," I gasped. "I swear."
"You're all the same," he whimpered. "You all bring pain and hurt and needles--"
I backed off a little more, fighting off the feeling of being utterly naked this close to a guy who
could nuke his surroundings with a flick of his hand. Dragging in a deep, steadying breath, I kept my
revolver down my thigh and lifted a palm to try and calm the guy down.
"I don't know what they did to you, or why you're here. But if you tell me? If you can let me
know what the hell's going on? I can bring them down. I can bring down the bastards with the masks
and the needles."
"They won't stop. They're always watching. You can't do anything."
I changed tack. "What's your name?"
He trembled and orange blood raced down his arm. It sizzled when it hit the tarmac, and he
staggered to his feet with wildness in his eyes.
I took a bigger risk and edged forward, slowly. I kept my hand up and my eyes locked on him.
The more fear I showed, the less he'd trust me, on an instinctual level. He was already on the edge,
dangling at the deep-end of fight-and-flight. On some level, the exploding super in front of me had
already given up on life. The horrified defeat in his eyes told me that much.
A voice crackled in my ear, and Javier's French-Canadian accent washed through the comms.
"Dean, they're coming. Pinnacle's on their way. They moved up their schedule."
I gritted my teeth. "The civs?"
"EMTs are on the scene. People are getting treatment. Gwen and Giselle have the Tin Men on
their heels, and it's a clusterfuck. Any more fighting on their end and it's going to be a wash." He spat
a curse in French. "What do you want to do?"
"Stand down, get to the civs. Anything on Paladin?"
"No sign of her."
"Who are you talking to?" the gangly man demanded. "Is it them?"
"They're my people," I said gently. "They're on my side. Talk to me, please. What's your name?
You had one, right? Before they did all this shit to you?"
"Raph," he said, and spat the word like it was a curse. "My name is Raphael."
"God's messenger," I said encouragingly. "It's a good name, Raph."
"You really believe in a god? When people can do shit like this to each other?"
"What I do know is that they're not gods," I said. "They can be stopped. Just--"
A swarming buzz interrupted me, and a cloud of quadcopters appeared over the terminal like a
horde of locusts. Red lights of recording cameras washed over us, and an echoing boom exploded over
the sky behind them.
I cursed, took another step forward, and watched Raph raise his panicked eyes up to the drones
above. Pinnacle's mobile eyes had found us and were probably piping everything back to Pinnacle HQ
in high-definition.
"They're coming, Raph," I said. "Last chance. Talk to me. What happened?"
Raph turned around, raised his hands at the oncoming swarm of high-tech fliers, and glanced
over his shoulder at me. His lips soundlessly formed two words, but I couldn't hear them over the
sound of the incoming robots.
Eden Genesis.
 "Raph, don't!" I shouted, but it was too late.
The broken experiment let loose a roaring tide of sheer destruction. It flared down his arms,
boiled through his coat and clothes, and before he could let it fly, a single figure in white and gold
appeared at the hole in the broken jet-bridge.
Paladin skidded to a halt and lifted her hands. An enormous wall of shimmering power
materialized around the side of the airport terminal.
The two tidal waves of energy met in a blinding flash and screaming roar of pure white noise.
Raph's explosions slammed into Piper's shield, punched through weaknesses in the massive protective
wall, and crumpled it in a sudden snapping blast.
But it was enough to take the brunt of the power.
The flaming avalanche of force deflected upward into the hordes of drones, vaporizing them in
the sky. The windows of the lounge shattered inward from the pressure wave, and Paladin vanished
from sight.
Her name caught in my throat, but the reflected energy caught both Raph and me in its wake,
and we tumbled across the tarmac. My suit protected me from the worst of the road rash, but Raph had
no such protection. Rough asphalt tore his skin to shreds, splattering lava-like blood over the ground,
melting it into acrid slurry.
I pushed myself up on an elbow just in time to see two figures emerge from the smoke over our
heads.
A stunningly beautiful blonde woman in a red-and-blue miniskirt ensemble floated in the air,
with a short scarlet cape fluttering behind her. Lightning crackled under her boots as she descended
down to the tarmac beside me. Drones buzzed down around her, watching her every move, and beside
her, a single figure stood in the sky.
He was easily 6'5", built like an action hero, and a cape billowed out behind him as he cast his
eyes over the scene of carnage on the airstrip. His costume was a classic superhero look, deep red and
studded with white stars.
My explosion-jostled brain took a precious second or two to puzzle out who I was looking at.
Patriot. And Phenomenon.

Chapter 42
Pinnacle had sent two of the Big Three here to deal with the situation.
I tried to push myself up to my feet, but the sheer shellshock from the earlier explosion sapped
my strength. I barely managed to push myself up into a crouch before Phenomenon landed beside me
in a flash of golden lightning and supermodel legs.
Power radiated around her, as merciful and careful as a hurricane, and every cell in my body
started screaming for me to run. I fought it off as she looked down at me with bright, piercing blue
eyes. There wasn't anything remotely friendly about them, and my gut told me with absolute certainty
that I wasn't looking at a normal super.
Phenomenon was a fucking force of nature, the kind of figure that demanded worship as some
kind of god.
Drones with cameras hovered around our heads, taking in everything.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
I fought past the smell of ozone and molten tar and drew myself to my feet.
"Wildcard," I rasped. "New superhero on the block."
"That so?" Phenomenon said. "I've never heard of you."
 "That's because I'm with Unity," I said, my voice stronger now. "We're here to help."
Patriot cannoned out of the sky like a tungsten rod from orbit and angled himself straight for
Raph. The poor bastard tried to let off another blast to stop the incoming attack. Patriot split straight
through the energy like it wasn't even there, cratered into the ground beside him, and kicked his
attacker like a soccer ball. Raph shot away from him, smashed into a luggage buggy, and another
fireball blasted out from him as he hit it.
My knuckles tightened around the pistol in my hand. But if Piper's plan was going to work, I
had to play it cool.
Pinnacle had to have their little moment of being heroic sociopaths for the cameras, and I had to
press the advantage later. Phenomenon watched me closely, and I was suddenly glad for the mask
around my face.
"So who's Unity?" she asked brightly.
I met her eyes, forced any contempt I could out of them, and took a deep breath.
"We're the ones who got here first," I said. "We got an anonymous tip that something was
wrong, and a supervillain was going to target Empyrion's flight center."
"So why didn't you call it in?" Phenomenon asked, with a confused little look on her face. "Are
those your friends in the terminal? Attacking our team?"
"Self-defense," I replied. "They pulled on us first. We had to do something. Couldn't afford to
let them slow us down. I'm sorry it came to that, but we tried to talk to them."
All true, all documented on whatever was left of the airport's security system.
She tilted her head and nodded, like she was agreeing with me. "They were there for the safety
of Empyrion's citizens, Wildcard. I hope you realize that. Not to hurt anyone."
"Of course. I'm sure it was just a breakdown in communication."
Raph rolled off the buggy with a tortured scream, and Patriot blurred toward him in a red flash
of motion. I fought off the tide of hatred for the self-assured cheerleader for Pinnacle as she nodded
sympathetically.
Another explosion went off to our right, and a garbled scream died abruptly. Patriot strolled out
of a jet-fueled fireball, his costume still pristine, with a smile on his face. The huge paragon of weak-
minded shitheads cast his eyes around the chaos around us with a sad shake of his head, and the
drones parted to let him step in toward us.
If Phenomenon was a hurricane, then Patriot was a nuclear warhead. His physical presence was
awe-inspiring enough, but the potential volatility radiating off him rocked me all the way down to my
bones.
These weren't the street punks that we'd taken on in the last week.
The S-tier supers boiled with the kind of power that could reduce entire cities to ashes as an
afterthought.
I fought off another wave of dread and reminded myself that they had no idea who the fuck I
was as I slid my revolver back into its place in my coat. Their eyes watched me like a hawk, and they
kept their distance from me with the kind of practiced wariness that showed a good amount of
situation awareness and understanding of combat.
I was a foreign entity to them, and while I hadn't completely stolen their thunder, the fact that
my team and I had made it here first was enough to piss them off.
I gave them both a nod and started to walk back to the terminal. They followed behind me, and
the cameras buzzed and flashed and floated around us like a horde of automated paparazzi.
The jet bridge was a fucking mess, but I lunged up toward the jagged hole that Raph had
punched through it and caught hold of the edge. With a fresh burst of stamina, I hauled myself up.
 My body had taken a hell of a beating and probably enough concussive damage to leave most
people as a drooling vegetable, but the passive Stamina and Resilience had carried me through the
worst of it. The pain from being tossed around faded as I found Paladin hunched up against a wall.
Blood stained the veil under her hood, and she glanced weakly up at me as I paced to her side
and crouched down beside her.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," Piper murmured. "Took a lot out of me."
"You stopped half of the terminal from getting blown to shit, with a power you're not even used
to using," I told her. "That's the most fucking impressive thing I've seen all week. You're bleeding."
"Nose," Paladin said. "It's stopped now, but I'm not sure I can walk--"
I scooped her up in my arms, pulled her into a bridal carry, and then started down whatever was
left of the jet bridge. She mumbled something into my chest, and her fingers closed around my lapel,
but she didn't resist as I strode through the gate and out into one of the lobbies.
Footsteps echoed out behind me, and the buzz of drones announced the presence of the S-tier
supers. Patriot easily pulled up beside me, and Phenomenon zipped to my side with the kind of speed
you only saw with highly tuned race cars.
"We weren't done talking to you," Phenomenon said.
"I need to make sure my team's okay," I said. "Happy to keep talking."
Piper huddled a little closer into my chest as we moved, probably sensing the same sheer power
differential I had earlier. I maintained my cool though and kept my eyes on my surroundings as the
two powerhouses strode either side of me.
"You did a good thing today here, son," Patriot rumbled.
Cameras flashed around us as I nodded. "Just did what I could."
"It's lucky you did," Phenomenon admitted. "Things could've been so much worse without a
couple of superheroes on the scene. So, how do you feel about joining up with us?"
I'd been expecting the offer, but I hadn't expected it so fast.
I could imagine hundreds of thousands of people typing madly into a live feed of the four of us,
with blasted, hellish carnage all around. Social media would be a riot right now, and everyone wanted
to be close to the action in the virtual space. If they'd seen half of what had actually happened thanks
to Pinnacle's sheer fucking insanity, they'd have changed their tune.
"I'll have to think about it," I lied. "I appreciate the offer, but it's a lot to take in at once."
"Of course, of course," Patriot agreed. "Like you said, you've got people to see to."
"But we do need to touch base," Phenomenon cut in. "Can you manage tomorrow? I'm sure
there's hundreds of people who want to see you, talk to you, ask questions about your team and how
you came to be in Empyrion." She flashed a gorgeous smile at the cameras as we descended down the
escalators toward the main exit. "You did help us out, after all!"
"Tomorrow," I agreed. "What time and where?"
"Say, 2 o'clock? Under Pinnacle HQ?"
"Done," I said.
The airport was in shambles. I couldn't see the place reopening for at least a couple of weeks,
which meant that there'd be a mass exodus out of Empyrion by car. The highway would be clogged,
tempers would flare, and the EPD would be out of their minds trying to get their officers to do
overtime.
But the city would survive. It'd bounce back from the beating that Pinnacle had subjected it to.
And I'd be there with my team to cut their legs out from under them.
"Unity?" I asked quietly.
 "Alive and kicking," Shadow confirmed.
"Still here talking to cops," Ordnance added. "Can we get the fuck out of here?"
"Engine's warm and ready when you are," Chuck told us.
"We're just waiting on you," Billy said.
A crowd of people cluttered the main lobby as I strode through the metal detectors. Drones
buzzed, cameras flashed, and the fucking journalists were already here with their own cameras,
microphones, and drones, shouting questions. Phenomenon and Patriot made a beeline for the adoring
media crowd, perfectly crafted sentences at the ready.
I pushed past them without making eye contact with any of them, and spotted Gwen and Giselle
waiting off the side. Ordnance took point, shoving snatchy media people out of the way with her gun
half-raised. She had to send one guy flying back into the others with a well-timed push, before they
gave us the space we needed.
Two minutes later, we fought through another crowd of EMTs with people on stretchers, police
cordons, and a constant barrage of questions which we didn't answer.
I found the van waiting, and Giselle took Piper out of my arms and helped her inside. Ordnance
and I turned, stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and stared down the crowd of relentlessly curious media
people with non-too-friendly stares.
A couple of police officers moved in to wave them off, and the sergeant with the mustache gave
me a nod of acknowledgement as he pushed them away from the van.
"Hurry it up, heroes! I left the stove on!" Chuck called.
We piled into the back of the decidedly unglamorous van and took off into the guts of the city,
leaving the chaos of the airport behind us.
I leaned back against the bench seat and cast my eyes over my team. They were battered,
bruised, covered in dust and blood, but, after a couple of quick checks, Billy confirmed that they were
okay.
Giselle put her hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze.
"We did it," she breathed.
"Yeah, we did. And you three were fucking incredible."
"Fucking Pinnacle," Gwen growled. "Of course they swooped in to scoop up the credit."
"Take the win," I advised her. "I've got a feeling that this is only just getting started."

Chapter 43
I woke up in Gwen's bed the next day. She'd dragged me home with her after the entire fucking
ordeal at the airport.
Piper had bounced back after a few hours. Billy and Javier had split off from the van to check
for tails on our vehicle, and probably started a small war against an army of overly-curious drones
who wanted to know our base of operations.
I slipped out of bed, and Gwen murmured sleepily for a moment, before she turned over and
pulled the covers more closely around her naked, tattooed form. I pulled on pants, padded downstairs
toward the kitchen, and made myself a coffee.
I didn't feel tired. I didn't feel sore. The powers I'd absorbed had seen to that.
But the sheer craziness of it all was finally starting to catch up to me. I made a long black,
wandered over to Gwen's enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, and watched the sun rise up over
Empyrion's skyline.
My dad had left me with a borderline-impossible mission.
 Just standing beside Patriot and Phenomenon had been enough to assure me that I still had a
long way to go before I was up to matching their sheer heavyweight status in the superhero world. I
could almost see my dad's grin in the half-reflection in the mirror as I sipped at my mug and just
enjoyed the early-morning sunlight.
Brandon had brought me here for a reason. Hell, he'd made it sound like this was the whole
reason I'd been born. Bringing down Pinnacle, putting together my own superhero team to counter
theirs, and to break the stranglehold that the lunatics had on the city, and the wider world.
Crazier yet, I'd managed it. I'd put a dent in their aura of invincibility.
Darkstalker, Bullrush, Scourge, and Lockdown were either dead or permanently crippled
without powers. Piper, once a PR poster-girl for the supers, had been instrumental in finding and
stopping Pinnacle's latest plan to garner sympathy and entrench their hold on the people's minds and
hearts.
I had three amazing women by my side, each with different skill sets, different powers, and so
much room for training and growth. They'd taken initiative, and despite meeting under the craziest
circumstances, I'd somehow managed to bring them together into a functional, well-balanced team.
We had kinks to iron out, sure. There was more than a bit of training in our future to maximize
our abilities. But it was a start.
And it felt right to do this.
This needed to be done.
Pinnacle would pay for what they'd done to my family. They'd pay for what they'd done to
people like Raph and Piper. And they'd suffer tenfold for the hell they'd brought down on this city over
the last ten years.
The thought sent a thrill down my spine, out into my limbs, and a small grin touched my face. I
took another sip of coffee and ran through the scenarios ahead as quickly as I could.
The biggest one was the media circus that Phenomenon had invited me to. My paranoia
screamed that it was a setup. It wouldn't take much for a supervillain to lunge out of the crowd, punch
my ticket, stack up bodies, and give them even more positive press.
But it didn't fit. It wouldn't have taken much for Patriot to rip me to shreds on the tarmac with a
perfectly cooked-up excuse.
If nothing else, I'd made them curious. And I had something that they wanted, because
otherwise they wouldn't have offered to make my team part of theirs.
On the other hand, it seemed dumb to assume that they thought I was a godsend, and that I
didn't have anything to do with the attacks on their sites. We'd left behind survivors, people who
would happily vouch for me and Giselle being superhumans.
I heard footsteps on the stairs behind me. Gwen interrupted my thoughts as she poured herself
her own cup of coffee and joined me by the window.
She hadn't taken any precautions to dress, but it offered a hell of a view. I smiled at her as she
leaned against the glass. The golden light of the morning danced over her tattoo-painted curves and
brought them out in sharp relief, reminding me of the leftover energy we'd burned off last night.
"Sleep alright?"
She stretched, and her back clicked as she arched her spine. "Would've been easier if someone
hadn't been trying to cut me in half with their dick while I was dropping off to sleep."
"You asked for it," I reminded her.
Gwen chuckled at that. "I don't remember it that way."
"Too hard to admit that you see me as a walking sex toy?"
"No, that'd be the easier part. The harder part is trying to convince you not to run solo today and
let us watch your back properly." She took a sip of her mug and shook her head. "I don't like it, Dean.
There's too much that could go wrong. And we need you to keep this thing running."
"I'll be fine," I assured her. "I've done plenty of crazier shit."
"Doubt it," she countered. "This has got to be up there with your craziest ideas."
I flicked my thoughts over to my superpower options, and the now-familiar window appeared in
my vision. I selected Barrier and Resilience as my locked-in superpowers, dismissed the menu, and
turned my eyes back to Pinnacle's hovering skyscraper.
"There, I'm playing defensively now," I said.
Gwen rolled her eyes. "That's not the point."
I prodded her shoulder, and she hissed in discomfort as I found a shiner that'd appeared
overnight. Gwen might have had the same perks as I did, but while she was hell on wheels in the field,
she didn't have the same level of comfort in adversity that I'd earned through years of hellish training.
She glared at me for a moment, but her gaze softened as I kissed her forehead and gave her
shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"I've put you all through hell in the last couple of days. You deserve to kick back and relax," I
said. "Action at this kind of intensity isn't for everyone. Giselle and Piper need the rest, and so do you,
even if you don't admit it. superheroes or not, you still have limits. And we've got a lot of work ahead
of us."
Gwen grumbled into her coffee, but she didn't disagree.
"Do me a favor. Dig into everything you can around those superheroes that Giselle found a
couple of days ago. They're our next targets. Either we recruit them, drain them, or use them as a
means to work our way into the network."
"I can do that."
"How are the others? Chuck, Billy, Javier?"
"Fine. They got out with minor scrapes. A boatload of people got first aid on site after the
stampede, and only a couple are being treated for injuries. So far as we can tell, there weren't any
casualties, which is a fucking miracle by itself."
"There was one," I said, thinking of Raph.
Gwen cocked her head, confused. "You mean the terrorist?"
"Just another victim of Pinnacle," I said. "While you're getting busy with the supers, have your
army of nerds look into anything called Eden Genesis."
"Okaaay," Gwen said, more confused. "What are they looking for?"
"No idea, but I think it's something to do with Pinnacle's supervillain project."
"Thanks for the clarity," she snarked. "When are you headed out?"
"Soon. I want to get down onto the street and walk there."
"Of course you do. Driving a car would be too easy."
"You never know, we might be flying places soon." I grinned at her, finished my coffee, and
strolled back into the apartment to find my suit and shoes.
I kissed Gwen before I left, let myself out of her complex's main lobby, and took my time
walking through the streets.
Callisto was just waking up on a Sunday morning, and all the health-nuts were jogging around
the place with legions of dogs. The fresh morning air felt good on my skin, and I slipped my hands
into my pockets as I walked. The sun didn't do much to warm my body, but the walk did, and
Resilience meant that I barely noticed the cold anyway.
It took me almost 45 minutes to get out of Callisto, ease my way into the Commercial District,
and buy myself a second coffee at the same place I'd first met Gwen. The sidewalk down the road was
still shattered from Bullrush's headlong charge, and someone had set up cones around it.
People weren't working on a Sunday. The curfew was still in play, but the police had paperwork
to do, crime scenes to investigate, and leads to follow up on. I considered it a safe bet that none of
them would lead Empyrion's finest back to Pinnacle, but I'd been wrong before.
I found the circus before long and arrived just a little before I'd agreed to meet Phenomenon and
Patriot there.
I took a moment to stop by a public bathroom, change into my Wildcard outfit, and step back
out onto the street. The Pinnacle PR types had set up a huge stage under their gigantic floating
building, and hordes of journalists, vans, and even police cars had set up behind a barrier.
Tin Men surrounded the stage, while crowds of superfans fought journalists for space around
the stage. Phenomenon stood behind a pulpit, but there wasn't any other sign of the other Big Three.
As I started to push my way through the crowd, it only took a couple of seconds until people
recognized me.
"Wildcard!" one girl shrieked and hurled herself at me.
I instinctively slid back, deflected her grasping hands, and spun her effortlessly into the crowd.
The crowd surged forward, and I resisted the urge to start cracking skulls. A mechanical voice
bellowed 'move!' from behind them. The Tin Men shoved their way through and paved me a path
through the packed, breathless bodies.
Cameras flashed in my face, microphones were shoved toward me again, but I ignored them
and took quick, confident strides toward the stage.
More drones buzzed overhead to get all the right angles, catch all the right audio. I just shut all
of it out as a Tin Man gestured toward the stairs on the left of the pulpit.
Phenomenon greeted me with a smile that was just as dazzling as it was fake and gestured for
me to join her. She leaned into the microphone and tapped on it a few times.
Hushes rolled over the crowd as the superstar started to speak.
"Morning, Empyrion," she said. "Pinnacle has called together a conference today to give our
thoughts and prayers to those who were affected in the attack on the airport. Injuries were low, and
thanks to the timely intervention of both Wildcard and his people, along with EPD's emergency
personnel, the numbers stayed low. We want to personally thank all those who were involved in the
evacuation, and the brave souls who put themselves on the line to make sure that the citizens of this
city were able to leave safely."
Her diction was corporate and soulless, but she managed to infuse each and every single word
with warmth, life, and honey. Phenomenon had been professionally trained to give speeches, and it
showed. She could have outdebated the President if she'd tried hard enough, and thousands of adoring
eyes stared up at her as she continued her spiel.
I tried to dispel the urge to crack her skull off the podium.
"In the wake of the recent attacks on our company, we've worked with local law enforcement
and the mayor to ensure that we try to keep everyone as safe as possible," she continued. "We may be
superheroes, but we can't be everywhere at once, and there are always people who want to bring us
down. We're still tirelessly searching for those who destroyed the Outreach Center and broke into one
of our admin offices. We believe that they're the ones responsible for the most recent attack, and once
we find them, you can rest assured that they'll be dealt with by the full brunt of the law." Phenomenon
turned to me with another million-dollar smile and gestured to me with perfectly manicured fingers.
"But, enough of that. We're here today to celebrate the arrival of a new breed of superheroes, who
appeared out of nowhere and were instrumental in helping prevent deaths during the attack. We've
offered them a place in our organization, and I for one am hoping that they accept."
 I couldn't quite place whether or not she was genuine or threatening me. I could tell though,
from the tightness in her face, that Queen Bitch was pissed I hadn't brought the others.
I was suddenly glad I hadn't. I wasn't supposed to be here, and standing on an open stage with
hundreds of sightlines on me felt like a fucking death sentence.
But I had to play their game. At least for now.
Cheers echoed through the crowd, and Phenomenon leaned into the mic.
"Give it up for Wildcard!" she said.
The audience exploded into cheers.
I fought off a vicious bolt of nerves and just fixed my eyes on one of the drones above. The
machine had no face, no personality, no emotions, just a camera, and it was all I needed.
I took a couple of steps forward, gave Phenomenon an appreciative nod, and leaned into the
mic. I pushed the thought of millions of people watching me out of my mind, focused on my words,
and kept it short and sweet.
"I'm not looking to overstay my welcome" I said, and my voice echoed out weirdly through the
crowd. "Honestly, I could've probably done without all of this, but Phenom was pretty insistent, and
who's going to turn her down?"
A ripple of chuckles raced through the crowd.
"My people and I came together in the wake of the attacks against Empyrion's best and brightest
team of superheroes," I continued. "It was a tragedy, and we felt the aftershocks ripple through the
whole city. People were scared, and rightly so. I mean, if someone's willing to throw down with the
guys with the flying building, what kind of chance do the rest of us have?"
I let the question hover in the air for a moment for effect.
"We came together, and we decided to call ourselves Unity, because that's what we believe in.
Teamwork. Pushing each other to greater heights while always having each other's backs. And to
answer your question, Phenom, we'll have to decline your gracious offer."
The crowd stared at me, stunned, and I chuckled as I turned to face the superheroine.
"We're not Pinnacle. We don't have your rep, and we definitely don't have your resources. But,
if you'll accept us as partners and you're willing to let us work on our own toward the same goals?
Then we're happy to call ourselves your partners. I'd say in crime, but--" I shrugged, and another roll
of laughs erupted out of the mass of people before me.
"That's our stance, and that's what we're sticking to. We got this far, and even in the darkest and
craziest of times, we managed to come together. I'd like to extend the same offer to Pinnacle, and to
the people of this city. We can watch each other's backs. We can help each other. And we can press on
to fully realize this city's potential. But we can't do it alone."
I gave the camera a nod, stepped back away from the podium, and turned to face the full force
of Phenomenon's eyes. She still had that silly, almost girlish smile, but it didn't suit her.
Something deeply, viciously ugly smoldered in her eyes.
I'd gone off-script. I'd joked and made light, and I'd pretty handily pointed out that Pinnacle
wasn't invincible to the whole world, and that hadn't worked with the script she was being fed.
And I didn't give a single fuck.
"So that's how you want to play it?" she asked quietly.
I could just hear her over the excited shouts and sudden barrage of questions from the press. I
smiled under the mask. She couldn't see my mouth, but it didn't matter. She'd dealt with people before.
She could read my expression like a book. And that just made me smile wider.
Phenomenon really thought that she had control of the situation.
"I think it's best for all parties involved," I replied. "After all, we need to get to know each other
a little before we start working together, right?"
"You assaulted my people. You took charge of a situation that wasn't yours to take charge of. If
we're going to be working together, you need to learn your place."
"They fired first," I reminded her. "I'm protective of my people. Just like you are."
"We're nothing alike," Phenomenon said with that furious grin still on her face.
"Amen to that. Maybe that's the reason I'm here. Because I can get shit done."
I offered her my hand. She took it, with her ungloved fingertips, and effortlessly crushed my
hand in her grip.
My teeth slammed together at her sheer strength as she slowly ground my bones together and
broke ligaments. Lightning sparked between our palms. Sheer agony blasted up my arm, ringing every
alarm bell in my head, but I didn't release my own grip. I maintained it and shook her hand in front of
everyone
Cheers rocketed up into the sky from the crowd.
Our eyes stayed locked on each other for the longest moment, and I fought the urge to scream in
abject pain as she broke my hand under her grip.
A window flickered up in my vision.

Imprint Completed.

Phenomenon Powers Transferred.

End of Book 1