I ran my fingers along the edge of the suitcase as I sat idly in the waiting room to meet Director Kingston.
What remained of yesterday had passed by in a muted haze. Once we had all cleaned up and settled down with some drinks and food, the sun had swung around the sky like it was in a rush to get it over with. The usual jovial energy that surrounded us had been absent - quiet contemplation and recovery filling that space instead.
We’d seen the trio off, and Roxy and I retired to bed. Although she reassured me she was feeling better, I could still tell the switch into being a mercenary group for the League itched at the back of her mind. After a good sleep, she had seemed in better spirits this morning—if not grumpy about being left alone while Clara went to her education and I went to HQ for this very meeting.
As if rounding off my train of thought perfectly, the door ahead of me clicked open to signal the Director was ready for me. I sighed and stood from the chair. Despite being sure that this was going to be business as normal, I was almost disappointed in myself for not accepting Roxy’s offer of having her hiding out on a nearby building in case she had to step in.
Perhaps I was feeling a little too trigger happy today.
I stepped through the entrance and into the meeting room I had been in last time—the one with the various screens showing hero statistics and marketing figures.
“Gunquake,” the man greeted me, standing up from behind his desk. “Thanks for coming in.”
Not that I had much of a choice.
[Of course. It is great to see you once more.]
He smiled and gestured for me to sit. “We are fast becoming familiar faces, that is for certain. Not normal for heroes of any Rank, but I’m sure by now we both know things are beyond normal in several ways.”
I did not respond, but sat on the chair as the door clicked closed. Instead of sitting himself back down, his eyes went to the suitcase that I had placed on my lap.
“Miguel confirmed that you didn’t bring me a bomb or anything dangerous.” He drummed his fingers across the top of his desk. “Note taking isn’t common during induction, but I’m sure you have a good reason for bringing so much paperwork with you.”
[How secure are we here?]
Kingston tilted his head, and the screens around the room flickered off. Mirroring one of our prior meetings, a green sheen ran down the walls. With nothing but a nod to tell me this was as secure as it would get, I leaned forward and placed the suitcase on his desk.
I was comforted that he did his own safety checks—some manner of spell or skill using finger signals to run over the suitcase before allowing his curiosity to dive in. Even with Miguel being able to read what I had inside to some degree, there would surely be traps that could be set that seemed mundane even through detection.
Catches on the side popped. The Director lifted up the lid, his brow furrowing in seeing the mess of dirtied and crumpled paper. Aside from the sound of pages being moved out and placed back down, the room was deadly silent. I wondered if there were any groceries I could pick up to cook something nice for Roxy later.
“Where did you find all this?” he eventually asked, his eyes narrowing sharply at me.
[Doing some team-building. It’s fascinating what you can accidentally trip over out in the wasteland.]
He shook his head slightly and lifted a piece of paper up. “The question was mostly rhetorical as the delivery route written here leaves no guesswork as to where you got this from. You do me a disservice, as I want to know every detail, yet respect your privacy, as this is the exact kind of work we need from you and the group.”
[It was more luck than detective work. Looked as though they’d been ousted from their position there a while ago.]
The Director held up the dull crystal, turning it to observe how the different angles picked up the light.
[Same kind of crystals that were being used at the pyramid to power the weaponry of the corrupted. Based on what magic sense I have, that one is inert.]
He nodded without saying anything, returning it to the suitcase and briefly flicking through a few other pages before sighing deeply. Suitcase closed again, he drummed his fingers on it while looking up in thought.
After a few moments, his eyes came back down to me, and he smiled. “I honestly did not expect results from your alternative role for a while, Gunquake. Certainly not… something this valuable and informative. If you can keep this up, there will be plenty of performance bonuses coming your way. I am choosing to trust you and remain ignorant about why you and the Disasters were at this place. If it was as beneficial to you as this is to the League, then we are both winners.”
[Only time will tell.]
“Indeed.” The Director now sat down and leaned back in his chair. More comfortable than I usually saw him, but there was clearly a lot going on behind his eyes. “Here I was about to walk you through the droll process of becoming the hero that you are, and you put this surprise on my desk.”
I considered telling him that the usual surprises I brought people were a lot less pleasant—unless you liked the taste of blood and smell of gunpowder—but that seemed counter-productive to the reason I was here.
[My disability makes it difficult to be a kiss-ass, but I hope this helps show how dedicated to the role I am.]
“If you and the team put the same amount of effort into your hero work, then I see you rising up the Ranks in no time.” Kingston glanced over at the blank screens as he rubbed his index fingers together. “Off-the-record work can only receive off-the-record rewards, I’m afraid. For now, let’s say I owe you one.” The glimmer in his eyes told me that the amount of sway he had in the organization made that more than just a casual favor in my pocket.
[Appreciated. No doubt there might be information in there that will earn us more work in the wastelands.]
“You haven’t read it fully, or made your own copy?”
I shook my head. Partially true, at least. I definitely hadn’t read through it, nor allowed Clara to digitize it. The techie had read it herself at some point; I was sure. While I wasn’t keen to draw too much attention from the World Government, it would be foolish to pass on the information blindly.
[We skimmed it, but it looked beyond our pay grade.]
“There is certainly some nuance to it where you don’t have as much of the picture as we do.” The Director placed his hands together in thought. “However, unless it’s for an emergency, we won’t be sending you out to the wastes too soon. We want you in the city. Show face and build your reputation. Soak in the job and what is expected of you. Once you and the Natural Disasters are settled and stable, then the moonlighting will begin.”
I hated the sound of that. Well, maybe that was a bit of an extreme reaction. I wasn’t looking forward to the ‘show’ part of being a hero. The publicity. Being known. It made me want to squirm.
“We have the others coming in over the next few days,” he continued. “Outfit changes and the like. Oh, that’s where we’re off to next.” Kingston stood from his chair and the green faded from the walls, each of the monitors flickering back into life one after the other. He gave each of them a quick glance before shooting me a smile and gesturing to the door.
I followed, but my brain was elsewhere. Which was the best store for imported vegetables? No matter how Roxy was feeling, I was sure hitting her with some hearty comfort food would win her over. While the Director led me through corridors and past rooms, I mostly ignored the scenery—at least, until he stopped.
“Ah. A slight detour. You probably don’t know many others in the League, but socialization is important, as you may occasionally work alongside some of your equals.” He turned the handle and took me into a small meeting room.
Five figures were sitting around a table, clearly in the midst of some argument—but had immediately ceased on seeing the Director enter.
“Sorry for interrupting, everyone. Just showing Gunquake around. He’s the new hero joining Rockslides team.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The tension was so thick in the air that you’d need a chainsaw to make a dent in it. I didn’t need the exposition that followed to guess that this was the B-Rank team just above us. The ones we were soon to knock down if we got our act together.
“Gunquake, this is the Homegrown Heroes. No doubt you’ll cross paths with them in the future to get better acquainted. Unfortunately, we’re already behind schedule, so there’s no time to chat.”
Thankfully, the group looked fine with that. Despite being on the same side, the glares they gave me felt more like a target over my head. An odd bunch, even more than my own group. One guy looked like a large beetle. Two others had plant-themes going on… although, now that I thought about it, most seemed to be nature based.
[Hello.]
Before I could think of any platitudes to say, or consider how many of them I could kill, the Director ushered me back out of the door. He shot me a sly smile as he closed it, and we continued down the hall.
While I was keen to leave that encounter far behind me, it turned out that he had some ulterior motives for popping that brief socially awkward event on me.
“Not everyone has your professional guile, Gunquake. As soon as we left the room, the Homegrown Heroes immediately started talking about you. They should know the walls have ears here.”
I raised an eyebrow and glanced back down the hall.
[Nothing good, I’m sure.]
“While the League promotes cohesion and support for our heroes to be all part of the same unit overall, splitting into groups is a natural human trait.” He gave me a slight shrug. “Even amongst those who are superhuman. I’m sure I don’t need to convince you to stay out of the ‘office politics’.”
I gave him a nod. The way I solved problems wouldn’t go down well with the culture they were trying to maintain. Might give us a shortcut up the ladder, though.
[They see us as a threat, then?]
Kingston shook his head. “They don’t know of you, Rockslide’s lava powers, or the team rebranding. Most of their snide comments are about a potential relationship between the pair of you, how doomed your group seems… other petty things that you needn’t worry about.”
He was right there. Most of that team were green enough without the jealousy. I hadn’t considered the more mundane side of being amongst the number of heroes under the League’s purview. Now I juggled with the potential irony of wanting to deal with social problems with violence when I was a known charismatic and affable character at heart. A living juxtaposition.
[I take it the League acts as an intermediary between any disputes between heroes?]
With a nod, we stopped again outside a pair of double doors. The sign beside it said ‘Fitting Room B’. “Correct, although you may be surprised to know that despite how catty and territorial some heroes can be, spats never make it very far before we help resolve them.”
For several reasons, I was sure. A civil war between powerful groups within the League would be dire for public image… not to mention the money side of things. Ensuring the supers were babysat and content also kept them on the right side of the law. No doubt there was a lot of manpower that went into running things in Goldarch, so I understood why the World Government putting a thumb on the scale would have the League’s back up.
I was starting to believe I might be in over my head.
[Understandable. I hope to provoke no issues during my tenure here.]
Director Kingston wavered slightly, a reply waiting on his lips, but he dismissed what he was about to say and instead gave me a smile. “Excellent. First up is your outfit reveal.” He turned the handle and stepped inside the room. “I'm afraid it’s not exactly much of a surprise as we’ve gone for what you’re already wearing, for the most part.”
The room was rather small, but well lit by sections of the back wall glowing a bright blue. In the center was a mannequin wearing similar slacks, tactical gear, and trench-coat as I was. In fact, if it weren’t for the lack of gun-arm and gas mask, it would be like looking in the mirror. Beside the raised clone of me was a short man with neat blonde hair and sharp eyes.
“Madame apologizes for not being present,” he said, giving us a slight bow. “She is unwell, but hopes to return tomorrow for the rest of the… Natural Disaster's outfit changes.”
“Thank you, Keiran. She has our well wishes for a speedy recovery. Could you do the honors of running through Gunquake’s detailing?”
“Of course, Director.” Keiran gave me a smile which had no warmth to it, and adjusted his waistcoat to bring out a small metal extendable pole. Once certain that he held my attention, he pointed it at the mannequin. “Although it is not common practice, we have stuck with Gunquake’s current ensemble as his basic look. Madame insisted that the authenticity of your look gave your role the sufficient gravity and wow-factor that the League desire, as well as being tactically competent.”
I nodded politely. It would be easy to thank my bardic past for my nose for fashion, but I had mostly just picked things that looked cool or tactical that matched my color scheme. If anything, I was just glad the League didn’t want to stick me in something gaudy or overt.
“While we can’t make you entirely bullet-proof, we have increased the protection almost tenfold from your current gear.” The man stepped around the figure, pointing at several areas. “The trench-coat is blast resistant, and the slacks, undershirt, and balaclava are made from a similar material to regular super-suits with impact resistance. Your tactical vest has plates in that will absorb up to medium caliber gunfire.”
[How about protection from magic or other super powers?]
Keiran pulled a face as if I had asked if it had a cotton candy dispenser built in. “The variety and disparity between powers makes it nigh useless to specifically outfit yourself with anything that might only be a hindrance and waste of materials. As your role is geared towards stopping criminals, this should be sufficient.”
The Director nodded along and crossed his arms. “That is correct. In the unlikely scenario you have to fight a villain, you have more to worry about than what material you are wearing. That’s not to say you’ll be without assistance, however… once you’re done here, we’ll go explore that.”
[I have no further questions about my durability.]
“Madame has increased your carrying capacity slightly, but otherwise your tactical gear is the same—just a few degrees of increased quality. You’ll find that your equipment is a better fit, and has some minor adjustments to make it easier to put on considering your…” he gestured with his stick toward my gun-arm.
[Thank you, I appreciate the consideration. May I ask how my outfit compares to the rest of the team’s?]
He shot the Director a glance before shaking his head. “Outfits that have not been revealed are private and the League’s property. I would not even be able to give hints as to if they even share a similar color theme. A superhero’s suit defines them not only in the public’s eye, but is also a reflection of their self.”
“Very personal,” Kingston added. “A lot of work goes into making sure the suits are unique and fitting for the super. We won’t get you to try it on as we have enough media of you looking just like that already. The others will need to do a brief photoshoot for when they go public.”
[Interesting.]
Or more accurately, horrifying. Part of me wanted to rebel from this attempted domestication. To live free and wild. The stakes as a lone wolf were just too dire at this stage. I’d be part of the circus if it meant the big top kept me safe and dry from the storms of my past life.
“We’ll talk publicity later. Thanks, Keiran.”
“My pleasure, Director.” The young man gave him a bow as I was taken out of this room.
“You’ll get five full outfits delivered in the next couple of days,” he said, pulling the door closed once we were back out in the hallway. “Wear and tear are natural, but we ask that you try not to ruin them too quickly. The labor and material costs are a deal higher than whatever military grade equipment you’ve been getting.”
[Speaking of which, I assume our next stop it tech or weaponry related?]
“Correct, although that might be something of a disappointment as well. Ammunition and grenades are at your disposal as and when needed. Utility items too, much like you have been using already. For your Rank, there isn’t much else we can offer.”
We walked in silence for a while, passing a couple of workers carrying boxes. Despite there not being a great deal of information, I felt rather muddled. The process itself was exhausting even if little was expected from me but to nod along with the explanations. Plus, I was unable to decide which meat to pair with the vegetables for later.
[No force-fields or laser reflecting shields then.]
“In all honesty, Gunquake, having your own personal tech assigned to you will work out better long term than any gadgets we could throw at you. The lab tells me Miss Clara is one of our brightest and most inventive technicians, so I expect good things from your pairing.”
A force-field would still be nice.
He wasn’t entirely wrong, however. For a fledgling hero, I had many things giving me a boost up the ladder from the start. The close relationship with a technical genius. An even closer one with a powerful superhero. The trust and backing of a full team which I had weaseled my way into. An underhand deal with one of the League’s top men who would look the other way when I slipped back into my old ways.
All the grenades I could possibly throw.
[Smoke and Flash have been very powerful for me up until now. Should I worry about forcing a meta in the criminal underworld where they’ll all start having counters to that?]
A wry smile peaked at the corners of his mouth. “No. I’m glad you’re thinking about that sort of thing, though. It will take a while before your methods saturate through to your targets. In fact, your workload will adjust to ensure that it doesn’t happen. I’m sure this is all overwhelming for you, but you’ve repeatedly shown you have the right mentality for your role.”
That and enough experience in seeing how much I could survive skirting the edges of death. It paid continued existence to be mindful of this sort of thing.
[I’m certainly intrigued over what you might be using me for to start with.]
“Ah.” His smile widened. “A couple more dull stops, and then I’ll take you somewhere to discuss your first mission as Gunquake, the hero.”
Somehow, my gun-arm itched at this thought. It was enough to completely distract my brain as we walked around, going up and down a few floors. I met the identical twins who ran the laboratory. Other than gushing about Clara and eyeing up my cybernetics with curiosity, it was just a curtesy meeting. Same with my publicist, Joy. I wouldn’t be interacting with her directly at any point, but she would be running the marketing side of all the Natural Disaster members.
Normally I would have met Stacy, who would continue to be my manager, but I had already - due to my brief stint as a sidekick-to-be. Instead, the penultimate stop on my induction was the clinic. They gave me a basic checkup, which was more to set a baseline for my current health rather than to be deterministic of anything.
Finally, we returned to the Director’s office.
It had taken a couple of hours, and I had done nothing but be agreeable and walk about. Exhausting. I was glad to see that the suitcase was still exactly where it had been left. No doubt with Miguel controlling the doorways throughout the building, there would be nobody who could step in to steal it. Well, maybe one person.
“Right, Gunquake.” Kingston walked around his desk to sit down. “The first week or two of your debut is the most important, so alongside the team reveal we want to have you sweeping up some trouble to get face time and earn some points for the local communities.”
That sounded like something up my alley. I was hungry to know more. Something familiar.
“Tell me, Gunquake. What do you know about the Five Eyes gang?”