By the time we had unpacked and arranged all the boxes of protective tech, Roxy was all but healed up. Her eyes were still red—more than they usually were—but her skin was less crispy and had almost gone back to her usual tone. The hobgoblin had looked uncomfortable watching us remove some of the parts that looked like weaponry, so we had set him up to watch some movies inside instead.

Something he was enamored with almost immediately.

“You sure you have those instructions the right way up?” the super asked, hands on hips and with a scowl leveled my way.

After having rearranged the four turret-like defensive sentries for the third time, she was beginning to doubt my competency. We had agreed to at least get some of the tech in the right place even if the more difficult work would need Clara’s capable brain.

[You are more than welcome to read them, assuming you can read.]

Her mouth opened in surprise. “You motherfucker. I can see you’re just trying to goad me into using my powers, aren’t you?”

[Perhaps you are projecting.]

“I’ll project your head halfway to the city in a minute, Dubs.” She rolled her eyes and allowed my jab to wash away completely. “I’m still shocked the League even went this far.”

I nodded, but didn’t have anything to add. It was a lot for a hitman and his odd group. Then again, I was much more than that now—all of this just tangible evidence that the League wanted me on their side. Or at least thought I might be useful against the Gov.

Not that I’d be getting a totally free ride to the top, but I was skirting some tradition. An oddity that some greener heroes might take some offense over. Let them. I didn’t fear opposition from most. Nothing in the range of B-Ranks, anyway. Even less so when the team was back together.

As if thinking it into being, a message came through.

//Roy: You fucking genius, Dubs.

//Roy: Just got out of a meeting.

//Roy: I’m back in business from tomorrow.

//Dubs: Glad to hear it, Roy.

//Roy: I owe you one, big guy.

//Dubs: We’ll celebrate soon, just have some spinning plates to deal with.

I turned to Roxy, who had taken the instructions from me, yet looked more confused than before.

[Roy has been reinstated.]

“Yeah?” Her eyes switched from the useless diagrams and up to me, her expression immediately improving. “I’m starting to worry that you were right about only gambling on sure wins. Your track record is flawless.”

I ignored the flashing images of the several times I had come close to dying in the last month. She was entirely correct.

[That’s just something to say to give myself the confidence to take risks.]

“Don’t shatter the illusion, babe.” She wrinkled up her face and waved the instruction booklet back at me. “I’m growing tired of this bullshit.”

It had taken us a few hours, and it was growing close to dusk. No update on how late Clara would be getting back, but I didn’t think she’d want to do either the tech installation or surgery under the cover of nightfall. All three of us would be a few shades grumpier, having to rearrange everything in the dark as well. Still, this was safety.

[Let’s take a break and wait for the one with all the brain cells to come back first, then.]

“Deal.” She held her hand out for me to take. “A little swing seat time?”

[You had me at ‘babe’.]

While she rolled her eyes, she took me over to the garden and we sat down on the swing. Comforting. I relaxed almost immediately, my muscles giving up as soon as I’d settled.

“If the League doesn’t give you a mission tomorrow, did you want to go beat something up in the wastes?” Roxy rested her head against my shoulder.

[Oh? I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to that.]

“I’m almost at the point where I could come back off ‘sick leave’, but I want more practical experience with my power before the League starts ordering me about.” She exhaled. “A little bit of freedom, you know?”

I did. For the most part, it had almost felt as though she had been keeping her powers secret from me. There must be more to it than just turning her skin to lava, and I was curious as to how she looked—and how it must have felt—to turn her whole body into the molten rock. Hopefully she’d be able to get a new suit that didn’t melt. There were a couple of fire-based supers on the list, so I didn’t doubt it was possible.

Once she was comfortable and told the League she was ready, it was then just down to me. I was sure I’d ace the next mission, so if the Director was able to pull some strings, then I’d be a hero in no time at all. Part of the team. Ready for our rebranding that I’d push for. And then…

Play by the rules, even if bending some of them. Slowly get the answers I sought while staying alive. Enjoy my time with my new friends. Be happy. Kick Roxy’s ex in the balls. All important to me now.

[You’re the leader, Roxy. What will be your first instructions once we are whole?]

She was silent for a few moments before leaning back to look at me. “A good leader knows when to take advice from those smarter than them. I’m a good rallying flag, but you’ve got the brains for this sort of thing.” Roxy poked me with a finger. “I’m delegating the tactical progression shit to you, okay?”

[Suits me. Very pragmatic of you.]

“Me having an ego about it will just get us fucked over again.” With a sigh, she deflated against me. “I failed them once, and you put everyone back together. You could lead us. I know this. I know you’re not keeping me as the leader out of pity, but I will still earn my place at the head.”

[We’ll need regular team training sessions. I want you to help me push the League to have us all branded as anti-heroes.]

I heard her suck at her teeth. “Might be a tough sell. Not just with the League, but the guys as well. Ren and Belle aren’t exactly that kind of asshole. Roy would normally be a decent fit for that, but the boy-scout show this morning paints him as too nice.”

[It won’t be easy, certainly. If you stand by my side, we can do anything.]

“I believe that. Sure, then. Let’s be the best assholes Goldarch ever saw.”

After a few moments of leaving that odd sentence hang in the air, we felt into a contented silence. The sun was slowly setting, and although the technology wasn’t set up and active, I felt safer. Part of it was the knowledge that the League of Heroes and the World Government were at odds, and I was a piece of that puzzle. For better or worse, I was a valuable asset.

As the world got darker, our garden lights switched on. Roxy went inside the house for a snack and to grab me a chilled canister, returning with a smile as our guest had fallen asleep on the couch. Another half an hour of just swinging gently, and the sight of Clara’s van appeared off down the road from the city.

“I have a feeling this will be a long night,” Roxy said. “I don’t know shit about surgery, so once I’m done moving the sentries about I’m going to have a bath.”

[I will see how much help Clara requires of me.]

The super raised an eyebrow and looked out at the small dots of light approaching. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll need you for every part of the process.” She turned back to me to smile, and she patted me on the leg. “Just save some energy for when you come to bed, okay?”

[Understood. I think I’m going to get changed out of my outfit.]

By the time I had switched into a hooded top and shorts, Clara had pulled up. I kept my goggles on, just in case I got a message through my lens, but I put them up on my forehead. Down in the lobby, the hobgoblin stepped out, woken by the noise of the van and nervous. Perhaps even more so in seeing me in casual clothes.

[Your doctor has arrived. Do not fret.]

Somehow, that message didn’t seem to soothe his disposition as much as I had hoped. Maybe my Calm Emotions aura was a little rusty—or he’d be in an even worse state without me here. It didn’t really matter at present, and I led him out into the garden where Roxy was making an attempt to explain all the various tech parts to Clara.

“Gunquake,” the techie said, looking over as I approached. “It’s not every day a girl is brought home to a mountain of some of the League’s best tech. Oh, and a new test subject too. You do spoil me.”

[I’m sure he would prefer to be called a ‘patient’. This is Clara, she is very competent and has saved my life with her skill.]

“So much flattery, and just after Rockslide added two new things to the list, as well.”

“There is no list,” the super interjected.

Clara rolled her eyes and gestured toward the workshop. “Best if we do this immediately, while I still have the momentum. Sister, if you could place the machinery in the following arrangement…” With a pen withdrawn from her pocket, she made a rough map of our property and where she wanted the sentries and various parts to go.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

After taking the booklet back, Roxy groaned. “That’s how we had them at first.”

“And as for you, Gunquake.” Clara turned and pointed the pen at me. “I’m in need of an assistant with a steady hand and willingness to do anything I ask.”

[And then we’ll do the surgery after?]

She paused briefly before scowling at me. “Don’t lean into it, Gunquake. It takes all the fun out. Keep your head focused on the task. Our patient’s life is on the line.”

The hobgoblin had all but recoiled, almost hiding behind me at this point. Probably wondering if this whole thing was a mistake. Potentially, it was. He’d reached the point of no return though, and as Clara walked past me and coaxed him to follow along, I felt a little… sad?

I hadn’t had the choice when I was given mine. In fact, as far as I was currently aware, my voice was only taken to hide my identity. Certainly, Boss had always offered to give me a vocalizer—which might have just been due to guilt. There was still a part of me that… seethed, almost. As much as I could be thankful that my life had been saved, the manner in which I had been put together left a sour taste in my lack of a mouth.

Before following the techie, I turned to the grumbling Roxy and brought her in for a hug.

“You alright, Dubs?” She moved her face away to look at me.

[Yeah.]

Her eyes narrowed, not entirely believing me, but she gave me a nod and a peck on the re-breather. “Go do the thing, you soft sack pretending to be an anti-hero.”

[You don’t think I’m bad enough?]

She shook her head as we moved apart. “Same reason I fell for you. You got a golden heart somewhere in that metal rib cage. I can see right through you, motherfucker.”

I shuddered at the thought, but made the show of blowing her a kiss as I departed - an act earning me a soft smile from the super. Was she right? As I walked my way over to the workshop, I wasn’t entirely sure I saw myself in the same light that she did.

She’d seen me kill without a thought on numerous occasions. I was a murderer. An executioner that didn’t even care for the pay—the only thing I got out of it. For someone who supposedly judged people more through their actions rather than words, she’d missed some key context clues that I was a dangerous and deplorable person.

Was that true now? I paused at the doorway and looked back at her as she lifted one of the heavy sentries to move it a few dozen feet over.

I understood it, to some degree.

She was envious of the freedom I had. Even if my strength was far lower than hers, I had just gone out and used it—ignoring that it was for murder—and had nobody to stop me. For someone who was tied down to the rules of the League, her envy had drawn her closer to me. Our first plans together were to break away from all this.

Somewhere amongst all the bullshit and near-deaths, we had found a more realistic common ground, an actual love and respect for each other. I also knew she partially wished she had the freedom to straight up murder people. She’d never admit it, because she actually had proper ties to functioning civilization… but she had agreed to go punch something in the wastes. I had seen how she took apart the mutants at the outpost.

There was a chance that she had been a villain in the making.

I shook my head. There was no need to paint those closest to me so drably. The door of the workshop opened up and I stepped in. The hobgoblin was now laying on his front, a white sheet covering his body from his midsection downwards. Clara had an apron and facemask on, a metal tray to her side full of tools and a few pieces of tech.

“He’s already out cold,” she said, as I closed the door. “He looked worried, so I jabbed him when he wasn’t looking.”

Although that sounded like a breach of some manner of ethics, this whole surgery was illegal and off the records, so I just nodded along with her statement.

[What do you request of me?]

“Come and stand over here.” She gestured to beside the tray. “Do exactly as I say when I say it. Without a full operating theater set up, the chance of this succeeding is lowered significantly. With your assistance, we can alleviate that risk by a significant degree, but you must take this seriously.”

[I will give you my all.]

“I know, Gunquake. My harsh frankness is not a reflection on you, but of how seriously I take my work. As soon as I make my first incision, you are no longer Gunquake. You are Clara’s third hand and second pair of eyes. Am I understood?”

[Completely.]

While usually a conversation that would be ripe for her to throw in some flirty additions, she did not. She held the scalpel in her hand as she waited for me to get in position, and I could tell her mind was wholly on the process before her. Two screens had been set up, each relaying different information about the surgery required. A small stack of books was on the shelf behind her, a large one already opened up to a certain page.

Most people didn’t take up dangerous and delicate surgery as a hobby, but the techie had prepared for this as much as she was able.

I gave her a nod to signal I was ready, my goggles coming down. My lens ran through a scan, giving me the names of each of the tools and pieces of tech she had laid out. Ready to highlight them at her request. It wasn’t a function I’d ever had a use for previously, and I was half certain she had installed it specifically for this purpose.

With held breath, she leaned toward the hobgoblin and made the first incision on the back of his neck.

And from that point onwards, I held up my side of the bargain. Symbiosis. I kept a clear head, not distracted by anything for a change. Anything she needed, I was there. A tool once more, but by choice. Her nerves washed away after the first five minutes. Together, we made no mistakes.

It may have taken an hour or so, but it felt like ten minutes at most. She drew out the final stitch, and I padded the last of the blood away.

Clara pushed the tray to the side, throwing her gloves and mask upon it, before turning to me with a bright smile. Before I had the time to say anything, she came in and gave me a tight hug.

[It went well, I assume?]

“Oh, yes.” She pulled away and sighed. “You were perfect, Gunquake. I mean, I was perfect too—but your assistance really made the difference. It will take the patient a little while to recover still, but it was successful.”

[I am relieved. It looked like it works slightly different to mine.]

Clara nodded eagerly, glad that the stressful part was over and she could now gush over the technical part of the process. “There will be a vocalizer box that affixes to the back of his neck, the same as yours. As he still has the biological parts required, there was no need for a port—everything is internal—and it will sync up with his mouth movements naturally.”

[So it will look like he is actually talking?]

“Indeed, Gunquake.” With a content look on her face, she pulled over a chair and sunk into it. “That was quite the ordeal. I will monitor him until he comes to.”

[You must be hungry. I can make you some toast?]

She bit her lip and glanced at the door. “If I could be so bold, could you make me those pancakes again?”

[Of course, Clara. You need only ask.]

“I’m sure Rockslide is eager to have you back, but I could also use your assistance with getting the defenses up and running.”

I gave her a nod as I went toward the door. My eyes could use a break as well. I hadn’t realized how focused I had been.

[Roxy will not mind. We tried earlier, and she had no chance of getting it up, so your hands will have to work their magic again.]

I left the techie to snort and shake her head as I stepped out into the cool air. It had gotten stuffy in the small workshop room. When we eventually got a medical unit, we’d have to spring for some air conditioning or something with better ventilation. My eyes roved around the garden, as if I’d pick up more assassins trying to take advantage of the fact we weren’t quite prepared yet.

But there was nothing.

Back in the house, I was moderately surprised to see Roxy in the kitchen. Then again, the surgery had taken a lot longer than expected, so she’d probably taken her bath already—a thought partially validated by the fact that she was in her bathrobe, and looked clean.

“Everything go okay?” she asked, trying to slide the ice-cream tub behind her so that I didn’t see it.

[So far, so good. Waiting for him to wake up to connect the vocalizer and make sure he can use it.]

“Do you know what voice Clara picked out?”

I shook my head. The thought hadn’t really crossed my mind. But now I was curious. The super stood up in front of me while my mind was busy and put her arms around my waist.

“You know if the defenses will take long to erect?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

[No time at all. You seem… impatient.]

Roxy pouted and looked over to the window. “I tried to do a little gym before the bath, but my body is shattered even though my skin is looking fine. I’m weak and needy.”

[Best you rest and don’t exert yourself at all tonight, then. If you want to be ready to fight something tomorrow.]

“Don’t you try to deny me.” Her eyes narrowed at the workshop. “Say, how long will Clara be in there?”

[Not long enough for what you deserve. Hey.]

I put my hand up to her face as she turned back to me, and I ran my fingers along her cheek to hold her.

[You’re very important, you know. You need to take better care of yourself.]

She smiled. “You mean I can’t rely on you?”

As much as it would be pragmatic to tell her that one day I might not be around to do that, I didn’t want to dampen the mood. The super was much stronger than me, so once she got her head around to being a good hero for the League again, things would go well for her, with or without me. In some ways, I had that in the back of my mind. My legacy, if you could call it that.

My past was dark and dipped in criminal actions. The handful of people I had gotten close to were assholes, but nowhere close to the baggage I had weighing me down. Should I finally have that catch up to me, I wanted them to be better from having met me. It was… what they deserved for accepting me.

[I will always steer you in the right direction. Like now, you need to move a little to the left so I can cook pancakes.]

Roxy wrinkled her face up, but gave my palm a kiss before we parted. “Can I get in on that action as well?”

[I see you have the ice-cream out at the ready. Of course.]

“Yeah, yeah. Tell our guest he can have the couch for the night. There’s spare bedding and stuff in the closet. Send me a message when my pancakes are done, otherwise I’m going to go chill in bed… all alone… and naked.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she passed me, eyes lingering on me.

[Well, be careful you don’t catch a cold.]

She gave me the middle finger and a smile as she left for the stairs. As much as I enjoyed her attention, cooking time was sacred, and I’d have plenty to do with getting the defenses working before I could rest easy. I was thankful the League’s turnaround time had been near instant, and felt slightly foolish for not letting their people set it up. It would be up and running if that was the case, and then I could overpower and kill Roxy. Romantically.

Even as the smells of the cooking wafted through my re-breather, there was still the stink of my past clouding my thoughts on occasion. It was just something intrusive. Killing supers was soaked into my very being. A thought that melted away as I completed the meal. I wasn’t sure what kind of pancakes the hobgoblin would like, so just made him the basic.

Message sent to Roxy. I then took the plates over toward the workshop, giving the empty darkness around the buildings a glare. Soon I wouldn’t need to.

I pushed open the door and was surprised to see the hobgoblin sitting up, the vocalizer on his neck. Clara sat in front of him, a smug look on her face.

[It went well?]

“Of course, Gunquake,” the techie took the plate from me, and nodded toward our guest. “Why don’t you say thank you, Teeba?”

The hobgoblin—apparently called Teeba—turned a sheepish grin toward me, eyes wide in seeing the food I had prepared. “Thank you, Gunquake,” he said. The voice was… in a word, aristocratic almost. Posh and educated sounding, a total juxtaposition to how he looked. “You have made good on your word.”

[Of course. How do you feel?]

“Not normal. This change will take time to get used to.” He nodded along, but his eyes were focused on the food.

[You’re welcome to spend the night on the couch. I have something to discuss with you tomorrow, and walking home in the dark is not advisable.]

“He will need monitoring anyway,” Clara added. “Just a checkup before we send him away.”

Teeba glanced between the techie and me, before lifting a pancake up to observe it. “For the help given, I am in your debt. Whatever you ask.”

[I’ll escort you both to the house so you can rest properly.]

Clara stood up. “Such a gentleman. I should have let you know, so you didn’t have to bring the plates out, Gunquake.”

I nodded, and helped Teeba to his feet, allowing him to put his weight on my arm. Oddly concerning voice aside, I was glad that the procedure went well. One step closer to winning over their forge to doing my bidding.

We made it a dozen slow steps before I stopped on the soft grass.

“Everything okay, Gunquake?” Clara asked, turning to see why I had paused.

My eyes went out to the city.

[You need to take Teeba and tell Roxy to keep you both safe.]

“What?” She put her plate down on the garden table and stepped over to take the hobgoblin from me. “Is there something wrong?”

My hand, unburdened by our guest, moved up to hold the charm around my neck. Not only was it warm, but words filtered through my head. Intrusive thoughts that repeated the same short phrase over and over.

[Belle is in trouble. I need to go.]