While some were busy and frantic, the morning began quite differently for others. Circe stepped out from her own secret base with one eye on the clock. While she might not know the precise timing, she knew that it would happen soon. Unlike many others, she wasn't particularly excited for the next gong. None of the smart villains were.
Even thinking that term made her want to grimace. When this had been a game, the idea of being clever and careful had largely been mocked. All you had to do was level up and use direct force. "Smart villains" had usually been pompous idiots or bored gamers looking for a challenge run of some kind. But now?
Everything was different now that the game had become real. The villains that tried to use brute force to get their way were quickly slapped down and spent their time in jail. Mere strength wasn’t enough to stand up against all of the desperate heroes that were running around. Only the clever, resourceful, and skilled villains had a chance to gain XP and grow stronger.
Or, at least, that’s how it was most of the time. But then the gong would ring and everything would go back to the old ways for a few days. All mad dashes and brutal fighting in the streets. It was just so boring that it made Circe want to cry.
And so she stood and waited until the gong rang throughout the city, marking her least favorite time of the month. Though that wasn’t quite right either. On the whole, she appreciated the added realism of this world compared to the game. Actually requiring food, water and sleep was a good thing in her mind. Including other bodily processes in the equation was less appreciated, but a necessary part of the experience.
She stood and waited patiently as the streets above her erupted into chaos as the sound from the gong faded. You see, Circe was a proper villain, and part of that was having a secret base that was actually secret. No one aside from her knew the location, and the people who knew her would never guess the location. After all, she was known to revel in her mystique and air of smug superiority. There was no way that someone so pompous would plant their base in the depths of the filthy sewers.
And yet, here she was. And while there was some truth to the rumors, that wasn’t all there was. Most people who wound up in this world had oddly selective memories. Yes, she’d set up her base inside the sewers, that much was true. But it wasn’t any ordinary sewer, but a video game sewer. It had the filthy water, dingy walls, and mesmerizing labyrinth of tunnels that were to be expected. It also featured decent lighting, usable walkways, and remarkably little smell.
She picked a direction at random and began to walk through the sewers. While the world around her now featured all of the senses, they weren’t all equal. Sounds had translated most directly from the game, with everything sounding almost exactly as they had coming from her speakers. The visuals carried the same intentions as ever, but with a higher fidelity than any computer could hope to achieve. But smell? The game had none, and so this world was oddly muted. The scents were there, but never as potent as they should be.
It was a common line of thought for her in the morning, trying to tease out and make sense of the differences between this world and the game that it was based on. She found that it put her in the right mindset to maintain the proper look to her face, one that perfectly balanced knowing and mystery. It was probably wasted effort in the dirty depths, but she was a professional. If anyone happened to glimpse her down here, they would see exactly the identity that she’d painstakingly crafted for herself.
And so she walked smoothly through the sewers, exuding confidence in her abilities every step of the way. That was a trick that had been drilled into her since she first learned to walk, and she put it to good use now. She walked nearly half a mile through the twisting tunnels before choosing a passage up to the surface. The sewer system was massive, but she’d spent enough time there to at least have a fair idea of where she would emerge.
She climbed the ladder to the manhole and paused just long enough to use one of her Illusion skills: Mask Presence. It was often mistaken for Invisibility, but she wasn’t so fortunate. Mask Presence was more of a perception filter; she wasn’t invisible, people simply didn’t notice her. Their eyes passed over her instead of seeing her. To a lot of people, that was functionally the same as being invisible. But as the user, Circe was much more aware of the shortcomings of the skill.
The most pressing of those concerns was that strong-willed people (or those with appropriate Skills) could see right through it. She could break it herself if she were too loud or obvious. And it was also hit-or-miss on machines; most security cameras could see through it but most robots couldn’t. She had no idea why that distinction existed, but it did. Where she planned to exit shouldn’t have any of those perils, but there was no way to be sure.
Carefully and silently she lifted the manhole cover and peered around. This one was in an alley for some reason, which was perfect for her needs. She slipped out, replaced the cover, and began walking calmly through the back alleys of Chancery Hills. She didn’t sneak or dart about, as that would draw the attention of anyone who managed to pierce her illusion. She simply walked.
Within minutes, she came upon an intersection of dark alleys that could have been anywhere in the city. Milling about the intersection was a group of people who very studiously appeared to be doing nothing whatsoever. Leaning against walls, chatting around a trash can, one even appeared to be sleeping on a piece of cardboard. At a glance they were the downtrodden, the destitute, and the desperate.
There were places like this in every large city. Places where such people congregated. They were depressingly common, but that was what made them perfect. Because this particular crossroads was special, at least for the moment.
Circe released her illusion as she walked up to the man who was sleeping on a piece of cardboard. No one so much as looked at her as she approached. When she poked the man with her foot, everyone else turned away.
The sleeping man grunted and rolled over, turning his back on the villain. She rolled her eyes and knelt down beside him, where her words would only reach his ears.
“Cold ground back here. Can’t you find a better place to sleep?”
For a moment it seemed like he might ignore her. After a full fifteen seconds he grunted again and spoke.
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“Lodgings take coin. I don’t have enough.”
“In my experience, no one ever does.”
“Easy to say when you already have some.”
“Are you asking for a handout?”
“Never. I’ll earn every coin I ever get.”
“Then maybe we can help each other.”
“Is that so? We’ll see.”
Circe took a step back as the man rolled back over and lifted himself to a seated position. His hair was matted and greasy, but clean. His face was leathery and worn from his long exposure to the elements. But his eyes held a dangerous gleam that had gone untouched by time and temperature alike. He inspected Circe for a moment and nodded.
“Welcome back to the Undermarket, Circe. What do you need?”
The villain felt a knot of stress come loose in her mind. While she understood the necessity, she truly hated speaking in code.
“I need a private place to conduct business, York.”
Old Man York nodded and motioned to the others standing around the space. They adjusted their stances and took quick glances around them before nodding. York nodded back and pulled out a pair of devices that he set on the ground a few feet apart. The devices blinked to life and the concrete simply disappeared. In its place was a hole into another place. Circe nodded once and dropped down into the hole.
It was a small room with few features. Concrete walls, a rusted metal table and two matching chairs. It was a pocket dimension like the players’ bases, but this one wasn’t designed for living or comfort. Its only purpose was to conduct discussions too sensitive to be carried out elsewhere.
Old Man York dropped in behind her, the portal closing behind him. The space was lit only by a strip of lights along the ceiling. They took seats on either side of the table, and they waited. The older occupant of the room sighed and began.
“It’s been a while, Circe. I was starting to think you wouldn’t come back.”
“I was just taking some time to cool off. It’s hard to trust the Undermarket after Ailes tried to sell me out.”
York’s face twisted in disgust, but only for a moment. Then it turned into an impassive mask that gave nothing away.
“Yes. That was unfortunate. I assure you that Ailes has been properly handled.”
“I know. I also know that someone else got to him before you did.”
“You do, do you? I suppose that’s to be expected; you’ve always been better connected than your level would indicate.”
“What can I say? I’m just good with people. But since someone else had to clean up your mess, the Undermarket owes me a favor.”
“Those are the rules, yes. And so we come back to my first point: what do you need?”
“Information, that’s all.”
The old man scoffed and leaned back in his seat.
“Oh, that’s all? Because information is so cheap and safe, isn’t it? Stop wasting time.”
“Fine. I’ve heard rumors that Anarchy Unleashed has been making moves in the area. Breaking up Alliances, knocking off rookies, that sort of thing. That’s way below their paygrade, so I want to know why they’re doing it.”
York leaned forward, a hard look in his eye as he stared at Circe. For her part, the villain matched his gaze and refused to blink or look away. This was important information, and she needed to have it. He could see that in her eyes.
“Dammit. You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. What kind of idiot would joke about something like that?”
“You’re no fool, which honestly makes it worse. You know what you’re asking, don’t you?”
“Naturally. I’m asking you to poke around in Bloodwing’s business.”
“Exactly. So no. No favor is worth that much. I prefer living.”
“Don’t be dramatic. This area is small potatoes and we both know it. Even AU can’t be dedicating more than a token force to whatever they’re doing here.”
“Sure, you’re probably right. Interfering way out here would be little more than a pup nipping at a hunter’s heels, rather than a wolf leaping for their throat.”
“See? You understand just fine.”
“Of course I do. And do you know what happens when a pup nips one too many times? They die.”
Circe sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. She was prepared to haggle, to argue and debate back and forth if she needed to. She hadn’t been prepared to be completely shut down. Of course, that was always the risk when one tried to interfere in the affairs of the powerful. She had to take a different approach.
“I get it, alright? A favor is a powerful thing, but it’s not enough this time. So what if I sweeten the pot?”
“I struggle to even imagine what you could offer that might sway the balance. But, then again, you do have a knack for surprises. So go ahead and surprise me.”
Circe didn’t answer immediately. In truth, she had plenty of things that she could trade with. Items, secrets, and favors were not hard for her to come by. But one that would make an information broker start spying on the largest Alliance of villains in the city? That would take something special.
By her count, Circe had at least four options that would definitely work, and two others that had a chance. She didn’t want to give away one of her trump cards, but she couldn’t risk York refusing. If he did, then every villain in the area would know about her request within the hour. So she bit her lip and pulled something out of her inventory.
She set a metallic gauntlet on the table in front of her. York only took a cursory glance at it before waving dismissively.
“A Big Shot Gauntlet? While I admit that they’re a bit tough to come by, it’s hardly worth what you’re asking. Especially since they’re all Common quality. They’re junk until at least Rare.”
“Check it.”
“If you insist… Wait. Uncommon? No one’s found an Uncommon, or I would have heard about it. Where did you get this?”
“I found a freelancer to upgrade it.”
“A freelancer? And they’re planning to stay that way?”
“Let’s just say that I have their attention.”
“Hmm. I’d heard rumors of a Gadgeteer appearing recently, but I’d assumed… And he’ll do work like this?”
“It’s like you said: I have connections. It’s what I do.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, but I’ll do it. I’ll have a request for them soon. Come back in a week or two. I can’t start until after the surge.”
“Naturally. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, York.”
The old man snorted and tapped on the ceiling of the small room, signaling the end of the discussion. Within moments the portal reopened and Circe climbed out into the alleyway. Into a different alleyway, actually. A hero must have wandered too close to the market during the negotiations.
She sighed and walked away without so much as a single glance backward. This would make getting back more of a hassle, but such was the price for privacy. She smiled as she walked and recast her illusion. That was the largest chore she had planned for the day, but there was always more to do. So many schemes and so little time.