《No More Heroes [Government Agency in a World of Superheroes]》 Chapter 1 - First Day on the Job It was to be a normal night on patrol for the two rookie heroes. Just patrolling the outskirts of Lord¡¯s Port, seeking out the gangs and criminals who seemed to enjoy causing rouble on a nightly basis. And indeed, it had not taken long for Gold Sparrow and Shock Jock to find trouble. ¡°Well, shoot,¡± Sparrow said, beating her gold-hued wings at the air. She focused intently on a spot only a modest distance away, the back door of an electronics store. Three men, adorned in dark clothing, were intently examining the sturdy door. ¡°A bunch of late night shoppers,¡± she said, smirking. Shock Jock grinned at her, standing calmly on a metal disc held aloft by a continuous charge of electromagnetism. ¡°Man, Black Friday isn¡¯t for a couple of weeks.¡± ¡°Try tellin¡¯ them that,¡± Sparrow said, letting out an irritable snort. ¡°Oh well. Guess we oughta do our heroic duty and stop them.¡± Shock Jock sighed. ¡°Man... when are we going to get a real challenge? Doing superhero work for a couple of months, and it¡¯s still the same crap. Burglars and break-ins.¡± ¡°Eh. It¡¯s fun stress relief. C¡¯mon,¡± she flashed her partner a wry smirk. ¡°Let¡¯s kick their asses.¡±
The scene at Lord¡¯s Port was a damn massacre. When the police report had come in, there had been a lot of details with regards to the core and destruction confined to a little back alley. Naturally, as it was an alterhuman crime, the LPPD had quickly shot it up the chain directly to ANVIL. A perfect way for Jon Carver to start his first day as director of the department. The doorway room was abuzz as he stepped inside, flanked by a shorter red-haired woman in a finely tailored white suit. Her almond-shaped face was affixed to a tablet in her hands, but she strode with confidence and purpose. ¡°Local PD reports finding two masks at the scene. Locals kids who only got their start a few months prior. One of them is still alive, but... shaken.¡± ¡°I can imagine. I saw the photos from our men in the field,¡± Jon replied. He was a tall man, broadly built, adorned in a pinstriped black suit. The man with his slicked-back auburn hair, at a glance, looked totally normal. And yet the longer one looked at his skin, or the lines of his face, the more they would feel something was fundamentally... off about the man. ¡°Anya, prep some our trauma people. See if they can¡¯t calm him. Ideally without meds or mental suggestion. Whatever went down there, sounds like he¡¯s our sole witness.¡± Anya nodded, her slim finger tapping elegantly across her tablet. ¡°Done. They¡¯ll be ready to move in instantly. Assuming, at least, that you want to speak to him first.¡± ¡°I do.¡± He lowered his sunglasses, focusing intetly on a tall dark-skinned man behind a large metallic console. ¡°Travers, you got the door charged?¡± ¡°Fully charged, coordinates set.¡± He looked up, adjusting the thick glasses on the bridge of his nose. ¡°Good to go, Director Carver. Only, uh... well you haven¡¯t used doors in the past, and they tent to be... rough on the first trip.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Travers. I¡¯m built tough, in case you haven¡¯t heard.¡± A mechanical whine echoed through the steel-lined chamber, before a rift opened on a platform in he centre in the room. A rectangular wound in space that glowed with blinding white light. An electromagnetic aroma wafted from the edges, which crackled and hummed. Jon stared at it, fixing his sunglasses into place. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s go.¡± Jon felt a modest jolt on his body as he stepped through, like an elevator coming to a lurching halt. The air around him shifted in an instant, the musty clinical aroma of Fort Argent replaced with the coal and brine stench of Lord¡¯s Port. Soft rain pattered his face, the traditional Lord¡¯s Port greeting. His eyes adjusted to the light, and that was when he saw the bodies. Three figures in dark clothing were spread apart the alleyway, left strewn in craters and gullies that had been carved into the concrete. Spatters of dark blood were splashed about, forming great pools in some places. It didn¡¯t take long to see Golden Sparrow either. Or, rather, what was left of the poor girl. Her torso, distinguished by the golden wings protruding from her back, was at least largely in tact. But her limbs had been pulped, spread far and wide across the alley. Of her head there was no sign at all. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. A few of the local cops stood behind a cordon of yellow tape, keeping an eye out for any inquisitive civilians, while ANVIL¡¯s lab techs scanned the area for any viable evidence. And there, seated on the stoop of the scorched back door, sat Shock Jock. He was shaking, wrapped in a thermal blanket, and had the wide eyes of a man who had seen things no man should ever see. He was shuddering, sucking air through his teeth, ignoring the officer at his side who was trying to calm him down. Jon sighed and strode forward. Anya followed after, the doorway closing soon after. She looked non the worse for wear. He gave her a flat look, to which she smiled and shrugged. ¡°I travelled through the doors with the former director a few times. It¡¯s nothing new to me.¡± ¡°Lucky you,¡± Jon flatly replied. He took a moment to examine the men in black in passing. They, at a glance, did not look like supervillains. Or even particularly distinct. They lay dead and broken, but their faces were placid masks, as if carved from stone. And, Jon steadily noticed, they all looked near-identical. Same height, same build, same wardrobe, same facial structure. He made a mental note of that. Shock Jock didn¡¯t look up as Jon¡¯s shadow fell over him. He just kept muttering and huffing, speaking in a terrified murmur. ¡°Shock Jock, right?¡± Jon asked. They knew his real identity, of course. Most rookie heroes were shockingly easy to figure out. But he figured letting him know that the American government already knew his secret identity wouldn¡¯t do his nerves any favours in that moment. He moved to crouch, heedless of the filth beneath him, and tried to meet the young hero¡¯s eyes. ¡°Can you hear me.¡± ¡°Tore her apart. Like wolves, pack of wolves. Didn¡¯t say a word, didn¡¯t make a fucking sound, but Tara screamed so fucking loud, never heard anyone scream like that, oh god, oh fuck, Tara.¡± ¡°Sounds like you had a hell of a night,¡± Jon said. They didn¡¯t make a sound, huh? That seemed about right for men who had managed to die with serene, placid looks on their faces. ¡°Can you tell me what happened? In detail?¡± ¡°The blood, the screaming... the fucking screaming. Oh god, Tara,¡± Shock Jock¡¯s chest heaved, tears streaming from his eyes to match the snot bubbling from his bloodied nose. ¡°Tried to help. Shocked one of them... didn¡¯t go down. Zapped him with enough volts to drop a man, the bastard didn¡¯t stop. He just... he just kept going, and... and...¡± Jon narrowed his eyes. ¡°Alterhumans,¡± he murmured. Dreadnought-class, if they could apparently ignore voltage that strong. To say nothing of how Sparrow had been pulled limb from limb. He looked beyond Shock Jock, to the damaged doorway. ¡°So... what? They were trying to break in here? An electronics store?¡± Small time, even for rookie villains. This wasn¡¯t even a chain store filled with oversized TVs or fancy computers. Unless they wanted something very specific. He¡¯d tell the lab boys to comb their possessions, see if they had anything on them that could give some insights. ¡°Jock. Need you to focus.¡± He snapped his fingers in front of the boy¡¯s face, but he scarcely reacted. Kid was a thousand miles away. Seemed he¡¯d need to be a bit more forceful. But Jon reminded himself to be mindful of his own strength lest he take Shock Jock¡¯s head clean off. ¡°Alright. Sorry about this.¡± He smacked him across the face, the sound of the slap cutting through the air like a knife. A few ANVIL agents looked up from their work, the nearby cops gawked, but nobody said a thing. He may have only just started as the director, but the title alone made it clear he was allowed to do as he pleased. ¡°Wuh... wha-¡± Shock Jock blinked, seemingly startled back to reality. ¡°Sorry. But this is serious, kid, and you need to tell us everything that happened. Exactly as it happened.¡± It was better, Jon reasoned, to get the witness to talk. Better that than trying to enlist a Psion to go digging around in their head. ¡°I... we... Tara and me, we were patrolling the city. Saw these guys... trying to force the door.¡± He spoke through ragged breaths, too torn up to even bother with codenames. ¡°So, we flew down. Thought they were burglars. I told ¡®em to surrender and they just... just fucking stared at us. The same face, all focused one way. Then they came at us. Two of them knocked Tara to the ground. She- oh fuck- she... she had a little super strength, but they overpowered her. Pummelled her. I tried to blast ¡®em, but the energy did nothing. Then the third one was on me, throwing me like a fucking ragdoll.¡± He screwed his eyes shut, shuddering with revulsion at the memories. ¡°I was scared out of my fucking mind. So I hit him with everything I had, smelled his skin burning... but he was still struggling on me for a few seconds before he dropped. And that was the same for the r-rest of them I blasted.¡± Jon nodded. ¡°Did what you had to do to survive. No shame in that.¡± No matter what the sanctimonious pricks had to say about heroes killing. ¡°And when I finally go up, Tara, she... those things had. Oh Christ...¡± he fell into a series of wracking sobs, his face buried in his palms. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough.¡± Jon rose to his feet and brushed some dirt from his slacks. ¡°Anya, get the trauma guys over here.¡± ¡°On it, Director.¡± He strode from the sobbing young man and made for the nearest corpse. Sparrow had put up a hell of a fight, for all the good it had done her, leaving great craters and gouges in the ground. An ANVIL field agent, adorned in the standard black and orange power armour, glanced up a bit at his approach. ¡°Director,¡± he said, his voice muffled by his gas mask, ¡°we¡¯ve done some preliminary checks, but the lab boys say we should move them to the Lord¡¯s Port lab. They¡¯re uh... decaying at an alarming rate, apparently.¡± ¡°Fine. Get it done,¡± he replied, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. ¡°Christ, kid wasn¡¯t kidding, that stench is potent.¡± But it wasn¡¯t, Jon noted, the smell of burned skin. He had enough experience to know that. He watched as the guard started to turn the body over. Then, suddenly, the flesh lurched beneath the blackened clothes, the corpse¡¯s jaw hanging open to release a low droning noise. His eye blazed red hot, flames billowing from his mouth as his chest expanded more and more. ¡°Jesus-!¡± the soldier cried, just as Jon grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him to safety. In an instant the director was above the corpse, a split second before the alley was lit up by a blindingly bright flash. The screams of those gathered was drowned out by the roar of the explosion, which shook the whole alleyway and set off several nearby car alarms. ¡°Director!¡± Anya called, waving the smoke from her face. ¡°Christ... Director, are you alright?!¡± The smoke cleared. Jon stood over the smouldering remains of the corpse, largely unbothered. Save for the fact that his right sleeve of his shirt had been burned away. His skeleton glowed faintly under his skin, altering the hue of his flesh, before the glow faded away. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Anya. I absorbed the brunt of the blast. But nobody is to touch these fucking corpses! Not until the techies can set up containment bubbles. Anya, get me another jacket,¡± he huffed, shaking some of the soot from his palm. Jon spent several moments staring at the sizzling remains. The explosion, whatever it had been, had shredded the corpse down into indistinct chunks of blackened meat. ¡°Well, shit,¡± Jon muttered. ¡°Hell of a first day.¡± Chapter 2 - Autopsy ¡°I hear the new director is an alterhuman.¡± ¡°Yeah? Ain¡¯t that like... a conflict of interest? We like, monitor alterhumans to make sure they don¡¯t get out of hand. How do we know he wouldn¡¯t go against us?¡± ¡°Well... Carver was an agent for a few years, you know. At least, that¡¯s what I hear. Probably a field agent, you know the type. Director Weaver probably trusted him more than any of us. And anyway-¡± A hush fell over the break room as Anya stepped inside. The woman tended to have that effect in Fort Argent. Unsurprising, given she stood at the right hand of the man who could make or break any career. ¡°Don¡¯t mind me,¡± she said, adjusting her spectacles. Her pupils shone with a vibrant sapphire hue. Her smile was sweet and innocent, yet it still struck dread into the conversing trio. ¡°Just grabbing some coffee.¡± She did just that, humming a jaunty tune to herself as she prepared a cup of steaming, jet black coffee. The other agents watched her all the while. ¡°Director Carver has been with the agency for a long time, you know,¡± she said, not looking up as she poured two sachets of sweetener into the steaming black liquid. ¡°Did quite a lot of wetwork for Director Weaver. You¡¯d struggle to find a man more loyal to ANVIL.¡± She smiled over the shoulder at the men before turning and making for the door. ¡°Food for thought,¡± she said idly. The three agents breathed a sigh of relief as she left. The only thing they were thinking of was the fear of Anya telling the director of their gossip. Anya, in turn, spared those men no mind as she walked through the gleaming well-lit hallways of Fort Argent. She walked briskly past offices and cubicles, monitoring stations and comm rooms, sipping her coffee as she made a beeline for the elevator. Other agents and guards made way for her, well aware of her position. It was a quick elevator ride to reach the underground levels of Fort Argent, where much of ANVIL¡¯s research was conducted. The director was waiting for her as she emerged from the elevator, dressed in a new suit. ¡°I expect more punctuality, Anya,¡± he said. She offered him a smile. ¡°Apologies, sir.¡± He grunted and turned. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s see what Peel has for us.¡± ANVIL¡¯s larger facilities had morgues in them, equipped to do postmortem examinations on alterhuman physiques that requird specialist tools. Fortunately they were rarely used for superheroes, save for the occasional unlucky rookie. But events like this, the mystery corpses in the alley, gave them much more use. Peel was a stooping old man, bald as an egg, and clean shaven. He stood a few paces from an autopsy table, glowing with the light of a pale blue stasis bubble. Beneath that lay one of the clone corpses. ¡°Director,¡± he greeted. ¡°Doc. What¡¯re we dealing with here? Guessing they¡¯re not you average everyday alley scum.¡± ¡°Certainly not. It¡¯s been difficult getting samples, that self destruct was quite brutal and it naturally has my team and I on edge to be too forceful. Even so...¡± He gestured to a monitor, showing a series of diagrams and models. ¡°We managed to gleam some things. This DNA? I won¡¯t bore you with the particulars, but it¡¯s clearly artificial in nature. These men were synthetic lifeforms of some kind.¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Doctor Biohazard¡¯s work?¡± Jon asked, tilting his head. ¡°No. Doesn¡¯t match the signature of his work, or any flesh-worker tied to the Guild.¡± Jon gave an annoyed grunt. ¡°So the Guild isn¡¯t behind this? Guess we can rule out these things being from the Shadow Cabinet too. And the Lee Clan, naturally. Those hicks don¡¯t go for help outside the family, and Lord¡¯s Port isn¡¯t their turf anyway. And this isn¡¯t how the Encounterists act either.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve cross-referenced every record we have. These things are... unique. Lab grown, with synthetic muscles and dermal weaves rendering them far stronger than a normal human. I¡¯m... worried about anyone being able to mass produce these things.¡± Jon stared at the corpse. The skin was already sunken and wrinkled, like rotting fruit. ¡°And the little... explosion trick one of them pulled?¡± A small smile crossed Peel¡¯s face, try as he might to mute his interest. ¡°Fascinating stuff. While we don¡¯t know exactly what caused that self destruct, we do know how it functions. His chest underwent sudden, colossal cell growth. Think of it like a hyper-aggressive form of cancer. Those rapidly multiplying cells then became conduits for an energy core, which our scans detected in the other two corpses. Those conduits, once charged, detonate. If you hadn¡¯t been there, Director, that whole alley would have been flattened.¡± Anya shuddered a bit where she stood. ¡°Who the fuck makes something like this?¡± ¡°A dangerous mind,¡± said Jon. Still, he would admit, it had been fortunate that he reacted in time and that his aura had been strong enough to absorb the worst of the blast. It was one of those little quirks about alterhumans that scientists were still stupefied about even decades later, a sort of passive field that suffused their bodies and interacted with any objects they touched. It was the reason why Dreadnoughts didn¡¯t accidentally yank doors out of their moorings every time they went to open one, why Speedsters didn¡¯t shred people out of existence when carrying them to safety at hypersonic speeds. Or, indeed, why superhero costumes could endure a great deal of damage without leaving the wearer in the nude. The best answer scientists could come up with when it came to this ¡®aura¡¯ was the same one they used every time alterhuman powers left them scratching their heads. That the known laws of physics simply ¡®shrugged¡¯ in their presence. ¡°Well we know what these things are, at least. But still no closer to understanding what the fuck they were doing, or who sent them.¡± He turned to Anya, who primly stood to attention under his gaze. ¡°Have the analysts run a sweep over national police cases from the past... six months or so. Compile anything about break-ins or burglaries focused on stores similar to that electronics join.¡± ¡°On it,¡± Anya said, her fingers gliding across her tablet with practised efficiency. ¡°Peel, I¡¯ll trust you and your people to do what you can to get a more thorough autopsy.¡± ¡°We¡¯re still puzzling out a way to remove the core without triggering it. But I think we¡¯ll find a way,¡± he said, offering his boss a grin. Jon nodded. ¡°I should hope so. I have a dozen other fires to put out, and I¡¯d rather not have this take up all our time.¡± He spared Anya another glance. ¡°Any update on Shock Jock, for that matter?¡± ¡°Trauma people gave him some sedatives, spoke to him a bit. Even triggered the calming lights in his room. He hasn¡¯t said anything different from what he told you.¡± ¡°Probably a dead end, then.¡± Jon grunted. Not that he expected much from a dumb kid playing hero. ¡°Have them cut him loose some time tomorrow. We¡¯re not running a bed and breakfast. If we need him again, we know where he lives.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Anya said, penning another note in her tablet. ¡°We¡¯re... in contact with Tara Goldsmith¡¯s family. We¡¯ll be able to return her remains to them around that same time.¡± ¡°Right,¡± said Jon shaking his head. ¡°What a goddamn mess.¡± No doubt the heroes were going to go spare over that. Golden Sparrow might have been a nobody rookie, but heroes took the death of anyone in their ranks very personally. No doubt a few hotheads would be baying for blood over it, as had happened in the past. It was one of the reasons why most of the saner heroes and villains avoided killing each other. It was always kicking a hornet¡¯s nest when it happened. ¡°Let¡¯s see...¡± He paused, settling his hands on his hips. ¡°Gotta attend that budget meeting. Then read the reports on Quick Lee and Strong Lee robbing hat oil truck in Kentucky. The sightings of Guild operatives in Washington too. Ah, right, and those Next Gen morons caused even more property damage in Sterling City. Full fucking slate to check through,¡± he said. ¡°But after that... I think I¡¯ll pay Lord¡¯s Port another visit.¡± An incident like this would no doubt get Raptor poking his beak in it. Chapter 3 - Raptor Lord¡¯s Port, historically, had been a troubled city. In the years following American independence it had become something of a magnet for criminals, who dealt in all manner of contraband. Drugs, gun running, and vast sums of bootleg alcohol during Prohibition. After the Encounter, when alterhuman super-criminals started to pop up with growing regularity, the city¡¯s criminal reputation grew significantly worse when masked maniacs embedded themselves in the underworld. Yet, in that same period, it also gave rise to one of the most famous vigilante¡¯s on the planet. The first Raptor had, by all estimations, been an Artisan with no physical powers. Even so, his abundance of gadgets, exemplary physical fitness, and keen mind had made him a one man army against the criminals of Lord¡¯s Port. He¡¯d even gone on to become a founding member of the Vanguard. The man had not ¡®solved¡¯ crime in the city, but one shuddered to think how much worse Lord¡¯s Port would have been in his absence. The ¡®new¡¯ Raptor, who had been in the role for the better part of a decade, well he was a different breed of dangerous. Still, ANVIL knew he also had a worryingly sharp mind at his disposal. Jon stood atop Lord¡¯s Tower, humming to himself as he examined the neon-lit spires and peaks of Lord¡¯s Port. Half the city seemed to be submerged in a miasma of fog. ¡°What a shithole,¡± he muttered under his breath. He¡¯d tried to avoid the place as much as possible in his pre-ANVIL years for many reasons. He watched calmly, as an armoured black shape emerged from the distant fog. A VTOL with crescent wings, crimson lights glowing on the sharpened edges of the craft. It quickly climbed towards the top of the tower, hovering above the helipad. Billowing winds snapped at the fabric of Jon¡¯s suit, as he stood back to watch the ship with a bored look on his face. The canopy opened soon after the craft landed, and a silhouette in black quickly hopped out. A tall and strongly built figure in plated power armour, a black trenchcoat thrown over the top of it. His head was fully encased in an angular helm, part of it sloping forward in the shape of a beak. The crimson visor glowed whenever the light struck it. ¡°I don¡¯t like ANVIL agents in my city,¡± he said, a distinct echo lining every syllable of his modified voice. ¡°Tough shit. Sovereign Act gives jurisdiction to agents of the American National Vigilante Investigation League on every molecule of American soil. I can go where I please. Jon Carver, pleased to meet you.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Raptor stared at him, the breeze fanning the tails of his coat. Even with his face concealed, Jon could sense the steely glare trying to drill a hole through him. ¡°You¡¯re here about the incident from last night,¡± he stated. ¡°I have no information to give you.¡± ¡°Damn shame, what happened to those kids,¡± Jon said, turning his gaze across the city. ¡°Didn¡¯t see you at the crime scene, but I¡¯m sure you know the details. Way I hear it, man can¡¯t even shit in this city without you finding out.¡± Raptor stared at him. From the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed the many pouches that lined his belt. Each one had some manner of gadget or weapon in it, a tool for every occasion. To say nothing for the power armour itself. It may not have been as potent as Lady Knight¡¯s, or Black Arsenal¡¯s, but it wasn¡¯t to be sneezed at. Bulletproof, rendering the wearer fast enough to dodge gunfire and punch through solid steel. It was much more potent than what the original Raptor wore. ¡°I¡¯m looking into it,¡± he said. ¡°Yeah. And I¡¯d rather you and the rest of the Vanguard try and keep out of our way in the process,¡± Jon replied. ¡°Particularly, I¡¯d appreciate it if you could keep any younger heroes from flying off the handle.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not a hivemind. Director. Or an army. We can¡¯t tell other heroes how to act or feel.¡± ¡°No, but you can influence them. And make it clear that we¡¯re not going to tolerate any witch hunts, or anyone trying to escalate into all out war with the Guild.¡± ¡°So you think this was Guild work?¡± Raptor asked, his tone flat. Jon snorted. ¡°Cute. We don¡¯t have a solid culprit in mind yet. Could be a new player on the field, for all we know. But until we can confirm anything, we don¡¯t need your people starting shit.¡± Rain started to patter on the rooftop. Raptor watched him intently all the while. ¡°My people, huh?¡± he eventually asked. ¡°You know what I mean.¡± ¡°You¡¯re an alterhuman too. Seems like they¡¯re also your people.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Jon grinned and lowered his sunglasses. ¡°And what makes you say that?¡± ¡°Biometric readings from my helmet. And the fact that you took an explosion to the face with no harm to show for it.¡± ¡°Ha. Knew you had eyes on us,¡± said Jon. ¡°I¡¯ll pass the word along to the rest of the Vanguard. We¡¯ll do what we can to keep people from flying off the handle. But I¡¯m sure you can tell people are pissed off. Word¡¯s already spreading about how that poor girl got brutalised.¡± His stance didn¡¯t shift as he spoke, as if he were a statue, but Jon could pick up on the notes of disgust in his voice. Jon sighed. He¡¯d wanted a media blackout on the gruesome details, but some of the local cops must have let things slip before ANVIL got involved. Gory happenings with superheroes always got them giddy. He opened his mouth to respond, only to freeze when he noticed something behind Raptor. A pale face staring unblinking at them from the edge of the rooftop. Then another, and another. Raptor spun as the figures climbed swiftly over the edge of the roof, until the two found themselves staring across at six identical figures in matching black clothes. Their skin was deathly pale, their faces angular and seemingly devoid of any fat. ¡°Well now,¡± Jon said, ¡°seems someone else had eyes on us too.¡± Chapter 4 - The Ambush A tense silence fell over the rooftop. Raptor''s hand was already on his belt, but he had yet to draw anything. "Who are you?" he growled. There was no response from the strangers, who stared listlessly at the two. Jon stirred uncomfortably. Even standing still, there was something decidedly inhuman about these men. Even without being perfectly identical. For one thing, they didn''t seem to breathe. "I''m going to need you six to stand down. I''m taking you in for questioning," he said. Again, no response. They didn''t even blink either, Jon noted. They lunged forward in union, scurrying across the rooftop like a pack of wild dogs. "Shit," Raptor hissed, hurling a chakram from his belt. It whirled through the air with unerring accuracy, and struck one man in the forearm as he moved to block it. The sharpened edge bit deep into his flesh, but he didn''t seem to notice. Didn''t even make a sound. Two raced at Raptor, immediately putting him on the defence. But the other four were focused squarely on Jon. He cursed and jumped aside, avoiding one man as he came skidding past. A blow flew toward his head, and he quickly ducked under it. Grey knuckles struck a nearby air conditioning unit behind him, cleaving through a swathe of steel as if it were damp cardboard. He focused and swung at his attacker, punching him square in the liver. The man jerked, but his blank expression never changed. Jon blinked, bewildered. A normal man would''ve collapsed on the spot. And even a low-grade Dreadnought would have at least been knocked back. Two of them pounced in unison, and Jon felt his legs being kicked out from under him. In an instat he had two of the bastards raining punches down on him. Fists filled his vision, punctuated by white flashes of pain, and the iron tang of blood swiftly filled his mouth. Try as he might to fight them off, two of the other strange figures had grabbed his wrists and were actively pulling his arms in opposite directions, trying to tear them from the sockets. He cried out, actively trying to pull his arms back in while his head was used as a damn speedbag. A normal man would have had his head turned into paste by now. Small wonder Golden Sparrow had been torn up so thoroughly. Fuck it, Jon thought. I''m not about to be beaten to death by a pack of creepy nobodies. The whites of his eyes turned black, his pupils becoming two blazing orange serpentine slits. His skeleton began to glow, forming a white hot silhouette that contrasted by the blackened iron hue that rapidly spread across his skin. Fire exploded from his eyes in two blazing streams. The first attacker, directly above him, was not fast enough to dodge as the searing heat sawed deep into his torso. He made no sound as he fell, not even as great chunks of his body were blasted into molten vapour. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The heat around Jon''s arms grew more and more, his aura and the special material of his suit keeping his clothing from catching alight. His attackers were less fortunate, forced to bull back for fear of their hands being scorched off. He leapt up and swung at the attacker directly above him. Jon distinctly felt the man''s jaw fracture and crumple, half his face bubbling and melting from the sheer heat radiating from Jon''s knuckles. "Come on you fuckers," Jon growled, hastily rising to his feet. His skeleton blazed brightly beneath his skin, the luminous white starkly contrasted against the metallic black edges of his flesh. His hair had seemingly vanished without a trace. Jon would have preferred to not use his powers in front of Raptor, but it was that or risk getting his skull stoved in. Across the rooftop he could see Raptor still locked in battle with the other two men. His movements were swift, dodging punches with inhuman speed. Yet he rarely found openings for counters, occasionally striking back but only barely forcing some room for himself. At one point he caught one man by the throat and set him alight with a sudden surge of electricity. Yet even this did little. Shock Jock had had to blast them with an immense voltage to take them down, after all. His own trio of foes were quick to recover, rushing him in unison. Each blow they landed scorched their fists, but this didn''t even seem to give them pause. Jon, in turn, grew angrier and burned hotter with every blow. Even the pain in his face and his arms was reduced to a dull ache, all sensations overwhelmed by his anger. He swept a fist upward, punching a sizzling hole straight through the abdomen of one attacker. Even this did not get it to emote or react. It stared dully at Jon, gripping him by the arm. Then a flash shone in his eyes, fire burst from his mouth, and his chest abruptly tripled in size. "Oh fu-" The strange being exploded, the wave of force ripping his body asunder. The blast slammed straight into Jon, flinging him clean across the rooftop. His body smashed into the damaged air conditioning unit, tearing the steely frame to shreds. But he was able to duck and roll through the air, skidding to a halt near the edge of the roof. Already the last two were rushing at him, clearly aiming to knock him off outright. Jon grit his glowing teeth. A fall from this height? Even his durability would struggle to survive that. He braced and leaped over the incoming figures, striking one on the neck in passing. The snap of his neck echoed across the tower rooftop. He stumbled, twisting around with his head locked at an impossible angle, took two more steps, and then dropped like a rock. Raptor had brought down one of his attackers, his face and torso pierced by a flurry of daggers. He loomed over his last opponent, raining down punches but still finding it difficult to knock him out. Jon''s last attacker pounced at him like a hungry beast, and Jon saw his eyes take on a blazing glow mid-flight. This time he was prepared, catching him by the throat before he could land. He twisted and flung the man skyward, his insubstantial weight climbing over two dozen meters skyward. His body exploded, the flash nearly blinding. Only a few smoking particles of his corpse floated back to the ground. Jon huffed for breath and turned his focus toward Raptor. He''d resorted to snapping the figure''s neck, leaving his head twisted the wrong way around. His expression was still dull and lifeless. The glow faded slowly from Jon''s body, his body still smoking and steaming even as his flesh returned to its normal tanned hue. His scalp tingled. His hair would grow back quickly enough, thanks to that little bit of gene tailoring he''d had done in his younger years. "Thought you didn''t kill," he said flatly. Raptor grunted, huffing for breath. "I don''t kill humans," he said. "But those things weren''t human, or even intelligent. They were like cockroaches in human skin." "Fair point," Jon muttered. Well, they had some new samples for Peel and his team, at least. "Nice power you got there," Raptor replied, resting his hands on his hips. "Dreadnought, clearly, with hints of Prism too. A rare combo." Jon grimaced. Just as he''d feared, Raptor was going to use that little display to try and look into his past, see who he may have been before he became the director of ANVIL. It would be a damn pain if he managed to put two and two together. Oh well. People would learn eventually. He had bigger problems at present. "Shame we couldn''t take one alive. Then again they''d likely self destruct, even if you could restrain one." Jon sighed, moving to the nearest corpse. "So... was this just a random attack? Or a planned hit?" Chapter 5 - Brand New Gear The next day, while ANVIL agents were busy combing over the rooftop of Lord¡¯s Tower, Jon made an afternoon trip to the Countermeasures Department. It was something of a rarity for directors to be attacked so brazenly, and he did not want to rely solely on his powers for protection. Fort Argent sat on an isolated stretch of the Appalachian trail, a great grey tower in a clearing far from human civilization. They did not need to worry overmuch when it came to supplies, owing to their massive stockpiles but also their portal doorways made it trivial to keep them stocked up. But, even without that, the airstrip and helipads allowed for great quantities of freight to be transported around. Behind the massive electric fence that bordered the perimeter, it was easy to see a myriad of SAM sites and gun emplacements. These were the most obvious defensive features, and nobody had dared to stage an attack on Fort Argent that would cause the other less-obvious measures to activate. Many employees commuted via portal doors, the keys to which were tuned to their biometrics. Others had no commute at all, making use of the living quarters in the base¡¯s expansive dorm. Countermeasures sat in a boxy grey building only a short walk from the airstrip. Agents in power armour patrolled the perimeter, stopping to salute Jon and Anya passing. It was Doctor Targe who greeted them when they arrived, a slim woman of Chinese descent with greying hair and a few wrinkles framing her eyes. ¡°Director Carver, Deputy Director Kleiner,¡± she said, nodding to each of them in turn. ¡°Would that we were meeting under better circumstances.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think there are ever better circumstances here, Doctor,¡± said Jon. ¡°But I¡¯ll take what I can get. Been a long time since someone tried to kill a sitting ANVIL director.¡± ¡°Ten years, in fact,¡± she said knowingly. She turned and motioned them deeper inside, the glossy black floor clacking noisily under every step. ¡°Your predecessor managed to really get the ire of the Neo Reich when he cracked down on them. Enough to make White Lightning call a professional hit on the man.¡± ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡± After all, Jon had been the one to personally blast molten death down White Lightning¡¯s throat at Weaver¡¯s behest. The man had had a simple philosophy. If someone came at him, they had best be sure they killed him. Otherwise he¡¯d be sure to return the favour tenfold. Jon quite liked that approach. They passed several test chambers, where ANVIL scientists were putting their latest gear to use, the reinforced plate glass windows giving a clear look inside. Jon saw, in one room, a scientists clutching a mounted laser rifle nearly the size of his whole body. The large batteries on the barrel blazed with emerald light, unleashing a great wave of energy that rapidly melted a block of titanium. In another, a row of mannequins were set ablaze and then immediately extinguished by sprays of fine white foam unleashed by an apple-sized grenade. Lastly they passed a room where one armoured agent was holding up a riot shield wreathed in shimmering blue light. A turret at the far end of the room fired upon him, only for each bullet to be halted in place by the radiating energy. ¡°A few odds and ends we¡¯re still working the kinks out of,¡± Targe said absentmindedly. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°They seem functional to me,¡± Anya said. ¡°Functional, yes, but they haven¡¯t been stress tested in a combat scenario. To say nothing of the usual issues in mass producing supertech.¡± ¡°We¡¯re making some progress, at least. Too bad we can¡¯t just copy ever piece of gear we recover.¡± While Artisans did not have physical abilities, their technology was similarly capable of defying all conventional logic. He recalled, vividly, a documentary where NASAs top engineers were asked to collaborate with a teenage alterhuman genius known as Whiz-Kid. The NASA folks were all some of the smartest men in the States, if not the world at large, yet even when they followed Whiz-Kid¡¯s instructions step by step, they could not recreate the technology he built. Artisan tech, however it was made, seemed to only function when built by said Artisan. It was why, for the most part, it could not be mass produced or reverse engineered. Only low end things, like the armour and guns used by ANVIL and similar groups, had any kind of mass production, and even that had required massive amounts of research and effort. The doorways, which ANVIL relied heavily on, had been a technological gift by one particularly clever Artisan. The woman had been kind enough to futureproof it, making the design modular too. But if it were damaged, it would be a colossal blow to the organisation. Still, Jon already had an idea in mind for improving ANVIL¡¯s arsenal. Even if it would doubtless land him head first in hot water. They entered a large cubic room, white-walled, with a three-inch thick plate suspended on the far end. Targe led the way to a large steel chamber and lifted up a large black handgun, distinguished by a strange tube-shape affixed to the underbarrel. Jon lifted it and inspected it. The pistol was a weighty thing, and he knew a normal human would have a little trouble wielding it. They¡¯d doubtless pick a lighter, more practical weapon. ¡°This one, at least, we know is functional. It¡¯s the sidearm used by guards at alterhuman prisons. The Model 3. On one setting it fires blobs of adhesion gel, for nonlethal incapacitation. If you turn that switch on the side, it will activate the compressor to alter the ammunition. For more...¡± Targe waved a hand, ¡°lethal incapacitation.¡± He fired off two shots, each press of the trigger releasing an echoing hiss. Two blobs of transparent adhesion gel thudded against the steel, expanding into pools thicker than the span of a splayed hand. It was a sturdy substance, good for restraining targets with superhuman strength. It wasn¡¯t infallible, but most supervillains could be dropped by a few well placed shots. ¡°Not bad,¡± Jon murmured. He clicked the switch, the compressor letting out a distinct hissing sound. The next two shots echoed with much much force, pale balls of condensed adhesion gel shooting outward and slamming into the plate. They struck hard enough to dent the steel. ¡°Suffice to say a normal human, even one in kevlar, likely wouldn¡¯t survive a hit centre mass from one of these. Low-level Dreadnoughts, like those clones you fought yesterday, would be hit pretty hard by them. Anything stronger than that, well, you¡¯re better off trying the non lethal option.¡± Targe made for a nearby wall, covered by a myriad of pinned diagrams. ¡°Actually quite proud of the design. I was the original designer, as it happens, and I¡¯ve barely had to iterate on it over the years. You truly can¡¯t improve on perfection.¡± Anya fought the sudden urge to roll her eyes. ¡°Never let it be said you don¡¯t do good work,¡± she said, forcing a smile. ¡°To that end, anything for yours truly? If I¡¯m in the field with the director again, I think a piece of my own would be good for my peace of mind.¡± ¡°Well, nothing quite so potent. The Model 3 is rather cumbersome to wield, compared to a normal handgun. Which, in turn, would be useless against the average alterhuman. But we do have this little number.¡± Targe bustled to another table, motioning to a device on the steel surface. A large black box with a trigger attached. Two brassy prongs protruded from the front. ¡°The Stunner. Can be used in melee or a limited range. The dial on the side controls the voltage. Everything from ¡®drop a grown man¡¯ to ¡®fry an elephant¡¯ levels of voltage. We¡¯ll keep working on defensive devices in the meantime. I think we¡¯re close to a breakthrough on personal shielding.¡± Jon grunted as Anya examined the Stunner. Seemed they¡¯d been on the verge of a breakthrough there for the better part of ten years. Stagnation, that was the bear trap that was clamped squarely around ANVIL¡¯s leg. The only thing for it, Jon reasoned, was to get new blood in the think tank. Chapter 6 - The Toymaker Sterling City was roughly 400 miles due north of Lord¡¯s Port and was, in many respects, it¡¯s gleaming counterpart. The weather was sunnier, the air was cleaner, and crime was generally under firmer control. Supervillainy aside, gang crime and drugs were nearly nonexistent among that gleaming city. And small wonder, given that Dauntless had been its protector for decades now. Even though the man was primarily battling problems around the world, he always showed up in the nick of time if the other local heroes couldn¡¯t put a stop to a problem. At last, the other Sterling heroes used to be reliable. Here, as with most other cities around the world, the younger generation of heroes were more... troublesome than reliable. The doorway deposited Jon and Anya in an alley just across from the Bank of Sterling. Anya, as ever, was focusing much of her attention on her tablet. ¡°Looks like we know what happened to Tara Goldsmith¡¯s head,¡± she muttered. That tone of hers made Jon uneasy. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve already had breakfast. What¡¯s the situation?¡± ¡°Skull fragments were pulled from one of the alley corpses.¡± ¡°Christ,¡± Jon muttered. ¡°Fucking clones. I already hate those things.¡± They emerged from the mouth of the alley, focusing intently on the looming structure of the bank. The sloping roof and lion statue out front gave it a rather grand appearance, like with everything in Sterling. ¡°So, you¡¯re sure about this tip?¡± ¡°Agents spotted a few of these little suckers casing the bank over the past few days.¡± Anya turned her tablet toward him, letting Jon see the blown up CCTV images glowing on the screen. They had been zoomed in significantly, and further enhanced and touched up by analysts. The image showed, bizarrely enough, a mall group of little green army men moving on the window ledges of the bank. ¡°Toymaker¡¯s modus operandi, from back in the day,¡± Jon noted. ¡°Apple didn¡¯t fall far from the tree.¡± Anya nodded, a flat look on her face. ¡°Are you sure about this? Recruiting supevillains is already a risky idea. But Toymaker¡¯s daughter? Shouldn¡¯t we maybe consider aiming a little higher?¡± ¡°Have to start small.¡± Jon leaned against a wall, watching as an armoured car pulled to a halt in a loading bay outside the bank. ¡°Social services have monitored her since her father¡¯s death, especially since she was registered as an alterhuman. School counsellor¡¯s have reported on the... playthings she invented, so she inherited her father¡¯s Artisan abilities, which can be produced in large numbers. So we already have an idea of what she¡¯s capable of. And since she¡¯s young and naive? Should be easy to convince.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re an expert when it comes to talking to youngsters,¡± Anya said, giving him a flat look. ¡°My, was that sarcasm I just heard? You know that¡¯s the lowest form of humour.¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The guards had already pulled the double doors of the armoured car open, one standing off to the side with an assault rifle clutched in his hands. ¡°If she¡¯s going to make a move on the bank, this would be the day for it,¡± Anya said, focusing on the heavy bags were unloaded. ¡°Years later, and supervillains are as unimaginable now as they were in my days.¡± Jon scoffed and ran a hand through his crop of hair. Already it had grown back to a modest length. He wasn¡¯t looking forward to the next time he¡¯d have to fully dip into his powers. ¡°So...¡± Anya gave her boss a sideways glance. ¡°What¡¯s the play? If she does show? Wait for the local heroes to take her in? Or do we have our own agents waiting in the wings?¡± ¡°Wait and see,¡± Jon said, slowly crossing his arms. If one looked close enough, they could just about glimpse the handle of his Model 3, and the leather holster it was resting in. ¡°Well... I think the show is about to start.¡± The guards stood to attention as a small group of teddy bears emerged from around the corner, swaying and dancing to some jaunty pop tune that was playing from somewhere inside their fur. From where he stood, he distinctly saw one guard mouth the words ¡®what the fuck¡¯ just as one bear pounced forward with immense speed. The bear exploded with a deafening shriek, sending people running and screaming. The force of the blow rolled one man off his feet, but did not seem to harm in much beyond that. Confetti sprayed from each exploding bear, twinkling brilliantly in the sunlight, enough to near-blind any man unfortunate enough to stand too close. From the blinding, confetti-fuelled haze emerged a young woman, followed behind by a small pack of army men moving in lockstep. Though only an inch tall each, there was imposing aura from their sheer numbers. The girl was dressed in a jester¡¯s motley of purple and orange, interwoven with sleek armoured plates. The bells of her twin-tailed cap jangled at her every move, the whimsy contrasted sharply with the steely yellow-eyed visor that concealed her whole face. ¡°Gentleman!¡± she shouted. ¡°You¡¯re being robbed by the Toymaker! Feel honoured.¡± ¡°Oh like hell we-¡± One of the guards tried to emerge from cover, and was immediately driven back by a salvo of covering fire from the army men. Though tiny, their rifles unleashed pinpricks of laser light that shaved chips and chunks off the armoured car. ¡°She¡¯ll kill them!¡± Anya said urgently, eyes wide behind her shades. Jon shook his head. ¡°If she wanted to, they¡¯d be dead already. See the firepower of those little guy? They could turn that car to swiss cheese if she told ¡®em. She¡¯s keeping them at bay, but that¡¯s all. Seems she picked her old man¡¯s nonlethal nature up, as well as his skills.¡± Twin trails of plastic monkeys, linked arm in arm, flew from the barrels affixed to Toymaker¡¯s hips. They moved like graceful tendrils, snapping up several bags of money and handing them, in turn, to a teddy bear more than twice her height and width. ¡°Her gear might be comical, but only an idiot would underestimate it,¡± said Jon. So, once she was in custody, the only thing to do was make her an offer she couldn¡¯t refuse. Already he could hear sirens in the distance, but that sound was quickly drowned out by the sound of something rushing overhead, kicking up a small gale that pushed Jon and Anya against the walls. ¡°Oh shit,¡± Anya mumbled, looking at the great metallic shape that swept toward the besieged officers. Toymaker, in turn, quickly took notice. She leaped back, propelled by springs that erupted from the soles of her boots, while her army men rained laser fire on the incoming craft. It was a large winged platform, inelegant in appearance but ideal for swiftly moving through the air of an enclosed urban space. Five figures rode upon it, superheroes in distinct attire. A man in a flowing white duster that contrasted his jet black mask and bodysuit. A smirking young woman sat beside him, her face half-concealed by an ebony mask that left her mouth exposed. Her hair, sleek and ivory, floated above her head like a cloud. Her attire was a simple purple costume with white gloves and boots, a symbol of concentric silver circles resting on her chest. There was a shorter figure crouched by the rear of the craft. He was scrawny, his costume and puffy green jacket doing little to disguise that. His mask covered his whole face, designed to look like some sort of grinning goblin. Jon¡¯s eyes settled on the largest of the bunch, a seven foot tall woman who¡¯s black MMA gear left a good deal of scarlet skin in view. Her black mask was like an armoured respirator, and her eyes were like two luminous circles of amber. The woman¡¯s hair was silky and raven black, cut into a pixie bob. Lastly, flying just beside the craft, was a man covered in a suit of gleaming power armour, one shoulder sporting a large cannon while each forearm had a gun on it. He blazed through the air from jets of flame shooting from the soles of his bulky metal boots. His helmet was sharp and angular, a V-shaped visor covering his eyes. ¡°Fuck me,¡± Anya hissed, nervous sweat breaking out across her face. ¡°Of all the people to come out here, why did it have to be fucking Next Gen?¡± Chapter 7 - The New Generation of Heroes Jon, generally, thought little of superheroes. He respected those who protected the planet from existential threats, but that was about it. Even so, he would admit a begrudging like for the older generation of heroes who at least had their heart in the right place. He could not say the same for their modern, vain, social media-obsessed counterparts. The girl in purple hopped from the craft first, the bottom half of her body dissolving into a pale cloud. Choking mist shot from her palms, threatening to engulf Toymaker, until her plastic monkey chains spun like two fans to blow the fog away. "Vaporwave," Anya said, adjusting her sunglasses. "An Elemental," Jon growled with disdain. Oh how he hated fighting Elementals. While Toymaker was on the backfoot, avoiding more gas launched by Vaporwave, the boy in the grinning mask hopped from his perch. His arms were outstretched, and he swooped through the air like a hawk to avoid a flurry of shots from the army men. Then, suddenly, he dropped like a rock and crushed several of the miniature figures in one move. He raised his arms, the flesh growing coarse and scaly, and was sent skidding back under another volley of laser fire. "That one there is Menagerie. Copies animal traits. Pretty potent, as far as Beasts go.," said Anya. At that moment the red-skinned woman hopped from the steely craft, landing with such force that she fractured the asphalt under her heels and made the nearby cars jump in place. She strode calmly toward the giant teddy bear, and barely reacted as massive paws smashed into her with enough force to shake the ground. She struck the bear, smashing him into the bank steps, uprooting a swathe of the stone. "Bulldozer," said Anya. "Fitting name," Jon said, already drawing the Model 3 from his holster. Bulldozer was laying into the bear before it could arise, each blow uprooting more chunks from the stone staircase. "Fuck me, do these idiots not know the meaning of ''excessive''?" Toymaker reached for her belt just as the man in power armour swept her way. A yo-yo appeared in her hand, and whipped out toward her foe. The blow of it against his chest was like a peal of thunder, a resounding bang that sent him careening through a nearby bus shelter. It shattered against his armoured body, as if made from paper mache. "And that one is Victory." Jon rolled his eyes. The irony wasn''t lost on him. Lastly, with the craft hovering in place, came the young man in black and white. He floated down, wreathed in swirling darkness, while his hands were ablaze with luminous rays of white light. "That''s Equinox, their leader. And a damn potent Prism too," Anya said. A sweep of light tore from his hand, vaporizing the last of the army men in a flash that left the pavement bubbling in the wake of his power. The yo-yo whizzed toward his head, but Equinox dodged it with contemptible ease. Again and again the sturdy edge tried to hit him, yet his body blurred from place to place as he dodged her. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Menagerie rushed her while she was distracted, bounding forward like a kangaroo. He lunged at her and struck her with both heels, lifting her armoured frame off the ground. She cried out from the force of the blow, smashing her into a lamppost. The metal crumpled and furrowed around her. Equinox struck her before she could rise, unleashing a wave of light that dragged her across the asphalt. Bulldozer made her way over, smoke billowing off her crimson muscles. The bear had fought with everything it had, to no avail. The severed head was clutched in her hand, trailing cotton and circuitry. Toymaker moved to her feet, swaying uneasily, and draw a handful of marbles from a pouch on her belt. The multicoloured spheres were hurled toward Equinox, but this time he made no move to dodge. Instead he stood back as Bulldozer swept in front of him, the marbles adhering to her flesh. They erupted in a flurry of explosions, shaking the street and shattering a few nearby windows. Yet, as the smoke cleared around Bulldozer, she was utterly unharmed. She strode toward Toymaker, her eyes blazing with renewed intensity. "That all you got, huh? Disappointing." She backhanded Toymaker so quickly that Jon barely saw it, but the blow swept the girl into the side of a nearby car. The glass of the windscreen shattered, steel crumpling and flattening beneath her. There she lay, groaning and failing to rise. And yet Next Gen were already advancing on her. "Knock me out of the sky like that?" Victory growled. "Oh we''ll see how good you are with that yo-yo with two broken arms!" "Director, they''ll kill her," Anya said. Jon had already started moving as she spoke, breaking into a sprint toward the damaged car. He couldn''t have them killing the girl, or beating her into a coma. It would disrupt his plans, for one thing. "Well done! You beat her! Your country thanks you for your service!" he shouted, drawing closer and closer to the group. Equinox glanced her way, just a he lifted a foot and slammed it onto Toymaker''s chest. The girl cried out in pain. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked. Jon had fished his badge from his pocket, the golden shield and eagle gleaming in the sunlight. "Jon Carver, director of ANVIL. Nice to meet you." He forced a smile, and was glad the sunglasses hid the venomous disdain in his eyes. "A-ANVIL?" Victory repeated, his posture tense beneath his armour. He stared intently at the badge. "It''s legit. Scanner would tell if it was a forgery." "And why exactly is the director of a government agency out here, bothering us?" Vaporwave''s voice was a breathy sigh, and she floated lazily on her side to watch him. The air took on a chlorinated tang in her presence. "Just happened to be in the area. And since that criminal is incapacitated, I''ll take her off your hands." His attention returned to Equinox. "Wouldn''t want anyone to think you were using excessive force, right?" Equinox scoffed, one hand resting in the pocket of his trenchcoat. "No such thing, in my experience." "Well," Jon kept that fake smile fixed to his face. "In my experience, there is. And, anyone partaking in it could find themselves in serious trouble." Menagerie snorted and giggled, bouncing from foot to foot. "That, hehe, a threat or something? Dumbfuck." "I don''t make threats," Jon replied, shrugging his broad shoulders. "They''re... beneath me. I prefer to make promises. And I promise you, if you don''t back the fuck off and leave that girl where she is, you''ll be spending your twilight years at the bottom of some fucking hole in the middle of nowhere, playing this moment over in your head again and again wishing you made the smart call." He kept his grin all the while. Next Gen stared at him in silence for some time. It was Bulldozer who moved first, cracking her knuckles, and was only halted by Equinox placing a hand on her shoulder. "Take her," he flatly said. "By all means. But don''t think we won''t remember this." Their craft wheeled over through the air, kicking up a gale as it drew closer to street level. They hopped aboard, one by one. Equinox boarded last, floating up on a trail of swirling shadows. "Friendly advice? Watch your back," he said. Jon snorted. "Friendly advice? Tread carefully." Toymaker let out a pained groan as the craft flew off. Her armour was cracked, and the fabric of her costume was torn in several places. Still, her gear had worked wonders at keeping her in one piece. "What the fuck?" she mumbled. "I know. Kids these days." He drew the Model 3 from his holster, double checked that the compressor was off, and stuck Toymaker''s hands together with a single blob of adhesion gel. They could dry and crack if off after they''d taken all her gear away. Artisans, fortunately, could be detained like any human prisoner once they were without their gear. Anya made her way over, a nervous gust of laughter rising in her throat. "Thought you were done for!" "Ha. Those punk were arrogant, but I think even they knew how bad it would be to pick a fight with ANVIL. Come on, call in a clean up crew. Then we can get our little friend here seen to." "Ugh..." Toymaker groaned, sagging in Jon''s grasp. "Worst day of my damn life." "So far, dear," said Anya. Chapter 8 - Welcome to the Citadel Toymaker, real name Julia Block, turned out to be a damn lucky woman. For how harshly she''d been tossed around by Next Gen, she only had to worry about a few cracked ribs and a hairline fracture. Still, if they had managed to kick her while she was down, her armour would have given way entirely. As it stood, Jon needed to give her time to recover. Or, at least, that was what the doctors said. He was willing to do so, given that he had a seemingly endless procession of other little fires to put out. First and foremost came from Peel, who claimed he had made a bit of a breakthrough with the clones. But, after hearing what the bald old man had to say, Jon found himself staring his way with thinly veiled disbelief. "Aliens?" Peel nodded gravely. "We have had extraterrestrial incidents in the past, after all. There''s the Encounter, obviously. But we''ve had other spaceborne threats like the Star Dragon, Askedia, the Void Men." "Yes but those were very rare encounters. We know aliens are out there, but they tend to avoid the planet. Largely because of Dauntless." "That doesn''t mean there aren''t aliens out there who wouldn''t try their luck." He opened an image on his screen, a detailed triple helix of DNA. Jon''s eyes glanced to some of the notes on either side of the images, only for his eyes to glaze over. He wasn''t built for science of any type. "This... peculiar DNA structure is what leads me to believe that our new threat is alien in origin. We''ve actually seen it before." Another image came up on the monitor, depicting a misshapen grey-fleshed, plodding about on four angular limbs. It looked about as large as an elephant, crushing a car under one pointed limb. Jon narrowed his eyes at the sight. "Never seen this before." "It was a... one off event. Happened in San Francisco about four years back, got taken down by two members of the Vanguard. Given that it was by the coast, people assumed it was simply a critter from the Pacific Anomalous Zone. Now... now it''s not so clear cut. Personally? I never believed it was a creature from the Anomalous Zones. Not with how unique it was." "So..." Jon lifted a brow. "Our weird clones share DNA with that creature?" "Seems that way. But... similar to the clones, that creature also rotted away to nothing despite our attempts to preserve samples. All we have his archived information to compare with." Jon sighed, sagging back in his chair. "Was kind of hoping my stint as director wouldn''t start with me dealing with a goddamn alien invasion," he muttered. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. "Well..." Peel forced a smile, his rheumy eyes darting back to the monitor. "We don''t know if that''s exactly what we''re dealing with, Director. We can''t discount the possibility, at least. But there''s only one group on the planet who have a better grasp of extra-terrestrial matters than us." "Mm. And they''re the people we''ll need to speak to, then." He let out an irritable grunt, already expecting the worst. "I''ll tell Anya to make contact with the Triad." ?
The Triad operated from their own private island off the coast of Staten Island, a gleaming fortress of silver spires and neon lights called the Science Citadel. It had been their home for the past fifteen years, after they really made a name for themselves as the hit new superhero team on the block. And, naturally, ANVIL couldn''t just open a doorway there. As with many installations used by heroes and villains alike, a scrambler was in place to ward off any such attempts. After being given permission to come along, the thought alone of having to ask permission grating on Jon something fierce, he took a doorway to a Manhattan ANVIL site and from there got a chopper ride across the bay. Seeing the Science Citadel up close, he would admit that it made for an impressive structure. Gleaming spires of sleek metal, illuminated by bright lights. It, at a glance, looked like a dream of the future pulled fresh from the pages of some fifties sci-fi magazine. Yet that gleaming utopian veneer would easily be worn away if one looked hard enough, glimpsing the turrets and weapons partway concealed throughout the structure. A figure was already standing at the helipad as the sleek black helicopter eased down through the air. As they drew closer, Jon could see it was a tall man with slicked-back raven hair adorned in a white labcoat. The bodysuit he wore beneath was stark black, with silver gloves and boots, and symbol of a great steel triangle affixed to his chest. Jon moved to disembark once the engine ceased whining, the propeller blades overhead slowing to a complete halt. The man in the white coat smiled at him. "Director Carver, I presume? I''m Thomas Teller. But most folks know me as Doctor Trinity." He offered a hand, which Jon reluctantly gripped. "Nice to meet you, Mr Teller. Are the other two members of the Triad away?" "Ha. No, but they ar rather busy at the moment. You know how it is, barely a quiet moment in the lab. Samantha is hard at work testing her new high-yield crops. She''s optimistic about being able to out a hard stop to world hunger. And Jack, well, there isn''t a man on Earth who rivals his passion for space travel." Jon nodded, a flat look on his face. "And you?" "Oh, well..." Thomas chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "Anything to do with aliens? That gets me too excited to focus on anything else. Come on in. I already received some information from your deputy director. Admittedly it was all rather... redacted in places." Jon shrugged. "Standard procedure when it comes to outside help. You three haven''t been government contractors for years." Not since they got their powers and became the Triad, at least. Prior to that point they had been NASA''s brightest trio, eagerly trying to find a way to recreate the Encounter. And, potentially, meet the Visitor again. They had succeeded in the former, at least partially. But even creating a weaker version of the rift into the Visitor''s home dimension, from which spawned the alien radiation that created alterhumans in the first place, had been destructive enough that nobody else wanted to risk trying the experiment again. But the Triad had certainly benefited, at least. Jon followed after Thomas, his eye roaming from side to side behind the cover of his sunglasses. He noticed quickly that there were no other humans on the Citadel. Just small silver robots who scuttled about on a set of six steel legs, handling odd jobs around the place with the myriad of tools their hands could morph into. Each one had an LED screen on their torso, depicting a neon green smiley face. "Nice place you got here. But I can see you don''t get many visitors." Thomas chuckled. "Well, usually the people coming our way are... unsavory characters who want to harm the us. Keeping security tight, and being picky about who we let onto the island? It''s just common sense. But the Helpers are as good as any human workforce." He paused as they reached a large set of double doors. Purple light flickered around Thomas'' eyes, a modest push of telekinetic power pulling the doors open. "Now then, Director." He flashed Jon a warm smile, as the radiant lights of the Citadel interior shone outward to greet them. "Welcome to the Citadel." Chapter 9 - Out of This World Jon strode through the metallic corridor, following behind Thomas. The interior of the Science Citadel was every bit as brilliant and opulent as the exterior. Every way he looked he could see glowing machines and alien mechanisms whose purposes he could barely hazard a guess at. ¡°I¡¯ve been following this case, you know. At least, from what¡¯s publicly available. Damn horrible thing,¡± Doctor Trinity said, giving a small shake of his head. ¡°They had a candlelit vigil for that poor girl only the other night. Awful stuff.¡± ¡°I imagine every mask is keeping tabs on this,¡± Jon replied. Already he knew many of the villains in Lord¡¯s Port had come forth to deny any involvement in the incident. They knew full well that the heroes would be out for blood against any villain foolish enough to be boastful. It was a two way street, of course. If any hero were to kill a supervillain, the Guild would put out a hit and cause mass havoc. ¡°Masks?¡± Thomas chuckled. ¡°The Triad are one of the only heroes who don¡¯t hide their identities, you know,¡± he said. A pair of metal doors slid aside at their approach, revealing a lab filled to the brim with a myriad of massive machines. And an assortment of strange experiments. Jon beheld, through a pain of glass, a pair of mechanical arms 3D-printing a crystalline replica of the Venus De Milo. Elsewhere he spotted a group of Thomas¡¯ robots carrying a great glass tube, filled with pulsating black and red energy that swirled like a hyperactive lava lamp. Through another window he could glimpse a pool of liquid metal rising to life, forming into a silvery life-sized giraffe. Thomas made no comment on any of these, instead pressing to the far end of the lab. A screen dominated the far wall, joined to a bank of computers. ¡°Maybe. Still, it¡¯s the commonly used term for heroes.¡± His gaze became affixed to the screen, one hand resting in the pocket of his blazer. ¡°So. Our alien trouble?¡± ¡°Of course. I actually did study the anomalous creature from a few years back. I tend to be given samples of such oddities whenever they crop up. It¡¯s a hobby, of sorts. Like butterfly collecting.¡± He offered Jon a warm smile, and for a moment he looked as if he had walked straight out of a Rockwell painting. ¡°Needless to say it was a fascinating lifeform.¡± He flicked a switch, and the monitor flashed to life. It depicted shaky camera footage of the creature in question, shrieking and thrashing about, destroying cars and uprooting swathes of asphalt. Lady Knight positioned herself in front of a group of panicking pedestrians. Sunlight gleamed on the silvery plates of her power armour, while an energy shield of shimmering blue plasma sprouted from her arm to block a series of incoming swipes. ¡°Strong creature,¡± Thomas sad. He accelerated the footage, highlighting an instance of the strange grey beast back handing Lady Knight into a building with enough force to flatten it and its neighbouring structures. ¡°They called it the Shambler. Not the name I would have chosen, but the right tends to go to the first person on the scene.¡± Sapphire Warlock flew above the Shambler, the creature¡¯s furrowed flesh twisting and straining as it unleashed a truly horrid shriek. Strands of blue light flew from Warlock¡¯s outstretched hands, forming into luminous chains of hardlight that locked firmly around the Shambler¡¯s legs. It struggled and strained, helpless as Lady Knight swept toward it. The person recording the battle recoiled just as Lady Knight¡¯s vibro-blade, the ebony edge shaving deep into the undulating mass. ¡°Everyone was quick to write it off as an Anomalous Zone creature, but I knew full well that that wasn¡¯t the case. I¡¯ve done autopsies on plenty of kaiju, and this thing was unlike even the smallest runt.¡± The doors slid open again, catching the attention of both men. The other members of the Triad made their way inside, adorned in attire that matched Doctor Trinity. His wife, Stephanie Teller, was a tall and lean woman with mocha skin and flowing tresses of raven hair that framed her pretty face. Her brother, Jack Graves, loomed two heads taller than her and his costume did little to hide his musculature. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. When the Triad first gained their alterhuman powers, his body had been morphed into a hulking figure halfway between man and dragon. These days, when not in a fight, he wore a great suppressor cuff on his arm that dampened his powers enough for him to keep a human appearance. ¡°Well shit, I didn¡¯t know it was movie night,¡± Jack said, grinning. It highlighted how damn large and square-cut his jaw was. ¡°And with a special guest too,¡± Stephanie said, tittering. ¡°Dragon,¡± he said, nodding at Jack. ¡°And Lady Tempest. Nice to meet you both.¡± Stephanie offered him a charming smile. The three of them were deep in their forties now, but none looked a day over thirty. One of the benefits of alterhuman physiology that wasn¡¯t spoken about as often. ¡°Well, the Triad pride ourselves as problem solvers.¡± As she spoke, sparks of light shone around the edges of her eyes. A strange contraption hummed to life at her mental command, spraying steaming coffee from a nozzle into a nearby cup. ¡°Care for a drink?¡± ¡°No, thank yo-¡± Tempest vanished in a puff of purple smoke, appearing beside the freshly poured cup in that same instant. ¡°A pity. We grow our own beans down in the terraforming lab. Quite fantastic, if you don¡¯t mind me bragging.¡± ¡°Oh yeah, that thing,¡± Jack said, focusing his gaze on it. Even with his powers suppressed, his eyes were two serpentine slits that blazed with orange light. ¡°Ugly sonofabitch, ain¡¯t he?¡± ¡°And yet quite a fascinating lifeform, from what I was able to gather before the sample decayed entirely. It was a blend of machine and organic tissue.¡± Doctor Trinity flicked another switch, bringing up an image on screen. DNA sample, similar to what Peel had shown in his own lab. ¡°A cyborg?¡± Jon asked. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look mechanical to me. Neither did the other creatures I¡¯ve seen.¡± ¡°Cyborg perhaps calls to mind a... certain mental image. Human bodies augmented by obvious, mechanical prostheses,¡± said Thomas. Stephanie leaned against a counter, sipping her coffee. ¡°In this case, the mechanical components are nanoscopic in nature. Colonies of tiny machines suffused within the flesh. They further augment the host¡¯s strength and durability, and provide an assortment of other abilities.¡± Another image appeared on the monitor, depicting a 3D model of a silver robot shaped like a tick. Like that suicide bombing trick, Jon thought. Might also be what causes them to decay so rapidly after they die. ¡°Exactly, my love,¡± Thomas said, flashing Stephanie a warm smile. ¡°Couldn¡¯t have phrased it better myself.¡± ¡°Oh I¡¯m sure you could have, dear.¡± Jon rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. ¡°So,¡± he hastily said, hoping to get things back on track. ¡°You¡¯re sure this is alien in origin? This... DNA, this technology?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a strong possibility,¡± Thomas admitted, shrugging. ¡°The people who could artificially create genetic structures like this, and colonies of refined nanomachines? There aren¡¯t many on Earth.¡± ¡°Guild creeps might have the ability, if they pool their smart guys together,¡± Jack said. He motioned to the screen with a burly hand. ¡°You want my bet though? Seems like somethin¡¯ Encounterists would do.¡± That gave him pause. ¡°Encounterists? You think a gang of religious cult whackjobs could make something like that?¡± ¡°Well...¡± Stephanie lazily swirled her coffee. ¡°It¡¯s not impossible. People often underestimate the resources they have. They recruited Mech Maker and Fleshcraft a few years ago, after all.¡± Thomas considered this, slowly stroking his chin. ¡°But to what end? General chaos and dissaray? The Encounterists have been a bit rudderless over the past while, ever since the Apostle was taken into ANVIL custody. Still, if you don¡¯t believe we¡¯re dealing with some anomalous alien threat, I suppose it¡¯s not outside the realm of possibility.¡± Jon grunted. ANVIL, and every other intelligence agency in the country, kept their ear close to the ground when it came to the Encounterists. They were terrorists, driven by ideology as opposed to greed, like the Guild or the Lee Clan. Could they be making these attacks under the radar? He supposed it was more feasible than an alien invasion. ¡°We will, of course, study this sample as best we can, and we¡¯ll monitor our space probes with greater scrutiny and see if we can find anything more concrete on either end of our hunches,¡± said Thomas, offering Jon another smile. ¡°And anyone causing trouble here, no matter where they¡¯re from, is gettin¡¯ a thrashing.¡± Jack flashed him a toothy grin. He was a man who loved a fight, even if he was also considered an exceptional scientist. ¡°Well, if you find anything, ANVIL will be greatly appreciative and compensate you proper-¡± There was a buzz in his pocket. ¡°Scuse me for a moment.¡± The Triad glanced aside respectfully as Jon fished his phone into view. A call from Anya, on a secure signal. He had barely answered the call when Anya blurted out ¡°We¡¯ve got a serious situation here, Director?¡± Jon winced. Girl was loud when she wanted to be. ¡°Take a breath and tell me what the problem is.¡± ¡°It¡¯s... the warning buoys from the Pacific Anomalous Zone started pinging a while back, but the target they detected wasn¡¯t put off by the usual deterrents. Sir, there¡¯s-¡± she hesitated, taking a harsh breath, ¡°there¡¯s a kaiju getting ready to make landfall in California!¡±