After Jacob rebuffed her, Flicker made it her unofficial mission to inspire jealousy, or maybe show off her sexual supremacy. She was often around Haden, touching and complimenting his muscles or giggling at something he said that hadn’t even been a joke. The young man was evidently too naive to sense danger, blushing and laughing along, just glad for the positive attention.

Godspeed, you poor fool.

I’d warn you, but I’d rather keep her attention where it is. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.

Thatch relayed word the next day that Starman and those in his company had been spotted by drones and were almost at the Resort. A detachment of heroes, along with the two directors, waited inside the entrance of the underground complex to greet them.

Jacob brought Fenris as a show of force, but left the kid behind. He protested until Jacob told him that he was meeting his nemesis, and that he couldn’t afford to reveal anything that would be used against him. He understood that.

Thatch lingered close to Jacob, as did Steelfeather. The purpose was obvious. The director was there to talk him down from doing something ‘rash’, and the S-Rank was there to restrain him in case words failed. He was surprised they hadn’t barred him from being there altogether.

The great blast door to the Resort began to grind open, then stuttered and fell still, showing only a crack of gray skies.

“Damn it,” Pell muttered around her toothpick. “Nothing fucking works in this place.” She looked around and snapped her fingers at a technician. “Tannenbach, go and—”

A pair of silver hands wrapped around the rim of the door and pulled it, slowly, with a squeal of protesting treads. Once it was halfway open, Starman slipped inside, followed by two others. After a few moments and another barked order from Pell, the door jittered shut behind them.

Starman’s armor was scratched and battered, the silver tarnished a dull gray by smeared dirt and ash. With him was a bloodied man with a faraway stare—Towman, presumably—and a woman with white, swan-like wings made ragged and dirty from travel through the wasteland.

Starman stepped out of his armor, letting it dissipate behind him, and gave a tired whistle, hands on knees.

The heroes were greeted by the two directors, and they were asked about the others who were supposed to be with them. Dead, the woman informed them.

Starman straightened himself. Laying eyes on Jacob—or more realistically Fenris, then Jacob—his eyes widened. Shock passed across his face, and was quickly replaced by an insufferable smirk.

“Jacob Sorenson!” he called in his booming voice. “I’m so relieved to see you all right! I feared the worst, my friend.”

Jacob’s face screwed up in disgust as the triple-crossing hero came straight at him, arms out as if he were going for a hug. Similarly, Fenris hunched low in a wild snarl.

He’s actually doing the whole innocent routine? I’m going to die of second-hand embarrassment, this is too much.

Steelfeather stepped into Starman’s path before he got halfway to Jacob, arms crossed over his muscled chest. “Wilson, stand down.”

It was the first time Jacob had heard Steelfeather use a hero’s actual name aside from purely introductory purposes. He always used heroes’ ‘real names’, as he called it. Jacob figured that using his everyday name was an act of intentional disrespect, or a sign of the low regard he held Starman in.

At least I’ve got one person on my team. Good to know.

Starman met Steelfeather with a polite smile. “I would like to speak with Jacob Sorenson and ascertain his well-being. He was in a bad way the last time I saw him.”

“Wilson.” The dangerously calm tone in Steelfeather’s voice was a warning in itself. “Your continued criminal activities are known. Stop this before you further slander the hero mantle.”

Starman was still all innocence. “There’s been a mistake, I’m sure. The Red Right Hand has tried to frame me for various misdeeds, but you mustn't believe them. They want us to turn against each other, don’t you see?”

Thatch stepped forward with a heavy sigh. “Jesus, Starman. Give it a rest, will you? We’ll take you to your quarters straight away, and you’ll be expected to stay there unless otherwise instructed. If you refuse, you’ll have to be restrained. Make this go smoothly, yeah?”

Jacob went past the director with a reassuring clap on his shoulder. He affected a stiff smile and offered his hand to Starman. “Let’s leave what did or didn’t happen for later, shall we? We’ve got a planet to save after all.”

Starman hesitated only a brief moment before shaking his hand. “Well spoken, Jacob, and my sentiment exactly. I look forward to working with you.”

Jacob dug his fingers in just hard enough to make things uncomfortable. Starman’s eye twitched, and his shit-eating grin stiffened, but he showed no other signs of pain.

“Yes. I look forward to working with you, as well.”

Jacob held the handshake far longer than necessary, making sure everyone in the room was unnerved. Then he let Steelfeather escort Starman away, and stopped Fenris from following with a stern command. The wolf looked at him like he’d gone insane, but obeyed.

Afterwards, Jacob tracked down Thatch in his office, who had taken off his suit jacket and was fanning sweat stains under the armpits of his shirt with a stack of papers.

“Well done, Jacob,” he said with a nod, and threw the papers on his desk. “I appreciate your restraint. Trust me, no one likes having him here. It’s like with that villain. We need them for now, but it’s only a temporary arrangement.”

“I quite like the villain,” Jacob said matter-of-factly. “He’s not a bad guy, actually.”

“Well, he is literally a bad guy. It’s— You know what, it doesn’t matter. We’ll keep Starman mostly isolated until the battle, so you don’t need to worry about him.”

“Of course.”

“Yes. Ahem…” Thatch lipped at his mustache. “This is seriously creepy, you know.”

“What is?”

“How calm you’re being. It’s… uncharacteristic.”

“Are you saying I have anger issues?”

“I was implying it. You said it.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I won’t touch him.”

“Good. I appreciate that.”

“I’d like to sit down with him, actually. Squash the beef, as it were.”

Thatch looked around for a cup of coffee to soothe his nerves. When he didn’t find one, he swept a nervous hand over his thinning hair. “Jacob, that’s not a good idea. You know why I can’t let you do that.”

“But you’re going to let me.”

“I really won’t. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll try to kill him, and then he’ll kill you, and what good does that do for anyone?”

“You have disturbingly little faith in me.”

“It’d be even worse if you actually managed to kill him. Please tell me you know that. I don’t want to have to isolate you too. I’m not running a zoo here.”

Jacob smiled. “Don’t worry, I know that. I won’t touch him, I swear. I just want to talk.”

“You just… want to talk.” Thatch said the words slowly and deliberately, as if searching for the truth in them. “You understand why that’s a little hard to believe.”

“If you want, I’ll accept having Magpie there to moderate. Make sure things stay peaceful.”

“The villain? Jacob, this idea keeps getting worse and worse. At least take Steelfeather.”

“It has to be Magpie.”

“Why?” Thatch ran a hand down his face, voice full of weary exasperation. “Why does it have to be him?”

“Because I like him.”

“Because you…” Thatch laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry Jacob, but no. This is not happening. You won’t convince me otherwise.”

*****

It took Jacob approximately twenty minutes to convince the director otherwise. It involved a lot of promising over and over again that he wasn’t going to do anything violent until Thatch’s chronic lack of trust was somewhat ameliorated.

And thus, Jacob found himself knocking on Starman’s door. Not a position he’d imagined finding himself in. Magpie, who had picked up the situation in bits and pieces from various sources, had shrunk his head deep into his cloak, more like a vulture than a magpie. He was a highly uncooperative participant.

Starman opened the door with a great big smile and stood aside, motioning for them to enter like a host welcoming dinner guests to his house.

“I would have whipped up some light refreshments, but I seem to find myself under house arrest,” he said with a good-natured chuckle.

There were only two chairs in the room, so Starman sat on the side of the bed while Jacob and Magpie took seats. He would never get used to how normal Starman looked. Just a regular guy he’d pass in the street and not look twice. He even looked mostly sane, until he opened his mouth to swiftly and unfailingly shatter that illusion.

“I have to say, Jacob, I’m surprised you asked to meet with me like this considering our somewhat rocky history.”

“Which part of our history are you referring to, exactly? The time where you beat me half to death and sold me off to genocidal villains, or the time where you left me to starve on the side of a wall until I got buried alive?”

“Ehh, I guess a little of both? But I’m happy we’re working past all that. Honestly. It’s very mature of you.”

If I took off my sunglasses now, I could probably get close enough for the Death Glare to trigger before he has his helmet up. While he’s reeling from that, I could finish him quickly.

“When the only alternative is playing into your hands, sure.”

“Pardon?”

“Please. You don’t need to play dumb anymore. That’s why I asked to meet you in private, so we can skip all the posturing.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“We’re not alone, though,” Starman pointed out, nodding towards Magpie.

Magpie chuckled nervously. “Oh, don’t mind me.”

“He’s a villain,” Jacob said. “Even if he went telling on you, his testimony wouldn’t be taken very seriously.”

“Then why is he here?”

“To hold me back, if necessary,” Jacob bit out.

“Okay, I didn’t agree to that,” Magpie said. “I only needed to be here, you said.”

Starman laughed. “Don’t worry, this is going to be nice and civilized. What’s your name, my lawless friend?”

“Magpie.”

“Magpie, how delightful! I could honestly see the three of us becoming friends.”

Jacob was already developing a stress headache. “Could we stick to the topic, please?”

Starman put a hand over his heart. “You mean this isn’t a purely social visit? You’re breaking my heart, Jacob.”

“Shut your fucking mouth. Why are you even here? You’re supposed to be off-world somewhere, anywhere out of my sight.”

“Fiery,” Starman whispered to the villain. Then, turning back to Jacob, he said: “I’m not here by choice, you know. There were a set of unfortunate circumstances that led me to this place.” He sighed and spread his arms in dejection. “You’re seeing me at a real low point here, Jacob.”

“Don’t lie. You came here to fuck with me some more, since that is apparently your favorite activity in the whole world.”

“I did not, God’s honest truth. I was as surprised to see you here as you were, no doubt, surprised to see me. You strike me as a little too… I want to say selfish, but that sounds harsh. Whatever, if it fits it fits. You strike me as too selfish to volunteer for this kind of thing.”

“Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing about you.”

Starman let out a hearty guffaw. “We really are too much alike, aren’t we?”

Jacob resisted the overpowering urge to leap across the room and strangle him.

“So you expect me to believe that you, what? Couldn’t find a way off-world and had to come here?”

“Pretty much that, yes.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“You know, Jacob, just because you have the power to hurt others’ feelings, that doesn’t mean you should. Won’t make any friends that way.”

Jacob had to take a few seconds to compose himself before getting back on track. “You got stuck on Earth. How, exactly?”

“Well I’ll tell you! I had a spot on the Intrepid, all packed and ready to leave, but it turns out that some of the Red Right Hand survived the little ethnic cleansing the Guild did on them. And I guess they don’t like me very much, because they had my spot pulled last minute.

“So that threw me for a bit of a loop, but it was all right, because I had a backup plan, this wayline guy down in the ME-HZ. But would you believe it, when I got there he’d blown his brains out. Super rude. Super inconsiderate.

“There wasn’t any time to think up another plan. It was all I could do to get to the Spitforge HQ by the skin of my ass before all the, you know, fire and death. From there I struck a deal, and that’s all she wrote.”

“Again, you really seem too selfish for this kind of thing. Have you even considered the likelihood of you dying during this fight?”

“Oh, I always make it out okay.”

“Why wouldn’t you just let other heroes kill Akor-Goram and wait until travel is reestablished to get off Earth?”

“Because saving the world will be great for rehabilitating my image, obviously. If I’m here, I might as well give it a whack.”

“That’s… really the plan here?”

Starman just winked with his signature shit-eating grin.

Jacob didn't know what to think. Starman was conniving enough that everything he had said could be one big lie, but he was also clearly stupid enough that it could all be true.

“When you made your new deal with the Guild, you asked for a grace period. But that was before your pardon was rescinded. So what gives?”

Starman shrugged. “I figured you’d come along and ruin everything for me sooner or later, so I made a preemptive contingency for that.”

“You seem convinced that the Guild will hold up their end, even though they’re dealing with a two-faced murderous scumbag.”

“The Guild always keeps their promises.”

“They rescinded your pardon.”

“I’ll admit it, that one was my fault. Mea culpa. Can’t blame them for giving me a little slap on the wrist.”

Jacob had reached wit’s end. Starman’s mind was an impregnable fortress made of schemes and nonsense. He gave up on making sense of it.

“We should make a truce,” he said. “A real one. Until this fight is over, we won’t lay a hand on each other. Until it’s over, and not a moment longer.”

Starman got to his feet. “An excellent idea, my dear friend, and I accept. I wasn’t lying, you know. I am looking forward to working with you.”

Jacob did not shake Starman’s hand. Once was more than enough.

“So, can I go now?” Magpie asked in the silence that followed their agreement. “All this arguing is ruining my high.”

*****

Over the next few days, while preparations were made and plans were drawn up, Starman was confined to his room except for rare outings. Somehow, he almost always managed to end up around Jacob when he was let out, even though he was under supervision.

But he didn’t cause any trouble other than severe annoyance, so Jacob let him be. To no surprise, he saw Flicker make several advances on the disgraced Beacon of Arcadia. They would make a good match. Crazy and crazier, Starman being the latter. It would make for a fun trainwreck to watch. Sadly, Starman only regarded his newest fan with cold indifference.

Seeing his enemy again made Jacob think about what would happen after. If he got a convenient chance to kill Starman, good. But if not, he didn’t have time to go chasing a vendetta. Becca was waiting for him on Mars, and he wasn’t going to keep her waiting a day longer than necessary. The only thing that troubled him was Starman making it to Mars before him.

Judging by his past showings, he would definitely do something contrived like kidnap the person I love to use as leverage. Dangle her over a bridge, maybe, or a vat of acid. Or strap her to a big rocket, why not? Who knows what goes on in that crazy clown car head of his.

He’d find a way to take care of the Starman problem swiftly and permanently. One way or another, with either ending in blood.

The days passed with a strange sense of normality. He ate, slept, conversed, did his best to keep Fenris entertained in his white-walled cage. He tried to get a moment alone with Towman to secure his services after the battle, but he was proving slippery to track down, almost like he was hiding on purpose.

With each day presenting a greater risk that Akor-Goram would stage his breakout from Earth and force them to act, tensions increased. Everyone was doing normal things, but no one was laughing anymore. They were quiet and introspective. Settling their accounts with whatever gods they believed in, perhaps, or just lingering on the more-than-likely possibility of a dreadful demise.

Jacob wrestled with nightmares. Just one, really. The one that never went away. The one with the hands.

He woke up with a start one night, stirring Fenris in his sleep. He made for a more comfortable mattress than the one provided, so they usually slept on the floor together.

The dimmed lights meant that it wasn’t morning yet, but he wouldn’t be going back to sleep. Still seeing hands behind his eyelids, Jacob got up and decided to apply his time more usefully by going for a shit.

It was a drawn-out and wholly unsatisfying battle. Another downside of Cheat the Hangman was chronic constipation.

On his way back from the bathroom, he took a detour past the cafeteria to score some snacks. Food didn’t have to be rationed that tightly since there were so few people around, meaning there were usually some leftover vittles lying around.

The lights were on. Inside, Jacob found a single other person sitting at one of the tables, warming her hand on a steaming cup of tea. She wasn’t dressed like a support worker, so one of the A-Ranks, probably. He hadn’t bothered to memorize all their names or faces. Most of them would probably be dead soon, anyway.

A short scrounge around the pantries and fridge storage rewarded him with a granola bar and a yogurt cup. He’d never liked yogurt much, but Becca had made him eat it after Snapping to ‘promote his gut health’. The taste hadn’t grown on him, but it reminded him of her, so it was all right.

Jacob didn’t feel like sitting down with the woman, but it would have been equally awkward to pick a completely different table, so he eventually went and took a seat opposite her.

“Sorry, which one are you again?” Jacob asked and bit into his granola bar. “Lot of new faces.”

The woman gave a tired smile. She looked late forties or early fifties, shoulder-length brown hair with a healthy splash of gray. She had a wool blanket draped over her shoulders, and a pair of small wire-frame glasses rested on her nose. She had a somewhat athletic build from what Jacob could tell past the blanket, but not impressively so. Overall, she looked like a mousy librarian who biked to work.

“Someone who isn’t supposed to be up and about,” she said after a long sip of tea. Her voice was soft, almost whispery. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?” A conspiratorial glint entered her eyes.

Oh. Okay.

“Paragon, I take it,” Jacob said. He tore the lid off his yogurt and ate a spoonful of the stuff. Strawberry. Not his favorite. “Didn’t think I’d get to meet you.”

“Astute of you. What gave me away?”

“You’re the only bed-riddeen hero around here.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

They sat in silence. Jacob ate and Paragon drank.

“Are we going to win?” Jacob asked after a while.

Paragon shook her head. “I don’t know. If we’re lucky.”

“Pity. My luck’s not so good.”

She wasn’t anything like what he’d imagined the legendary U-Rank hero to be. He’d expected someone a little more… impressive. Imposing. Imperious. Then again, she wasn’t a public hero. Barely anyone knew what she looked like, so there was no need for her to invest points in Appeal. It was probably easier for her to keep a low profile without them.

“I don’t mean to throw your question back at you,” Paragon said carefully, “but which one are you?”

“Have you been briefed about the heroes that have arrived?”

“I have.”

“I’m the dead one.”

“Ah, I see. The glasses, are they…?”

“A necessary part of my kit, I’m afraid. I’m aware they make me look like I should be asking people if they know who I am.”

She laughed a gentle laugh. “I see. We all have our eccentricities.”

Another extended silence. She wasn’t one for conversation, apparently. He wouldn’t have minded, except now that he had the opportunity, he had several questions he would very much like to ask the greatest hero of all time.

The way her gaze was downturned, not straying from her cup, didn’t exactly invite conversation, but he could only hold it back for so long.

“How did you get so powerful?” Jacob asked.

Paragon took a deep breath, chest heaving. “Oh, I don’t think I’m allowed to say.”

“Classified?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“What about advice?”

“What about it?”

“Could I ask for some?”

He could tell by the weary tension on her face that she was getting fed up with him and trying to be polite about it, but what was he supposed to do? Not ask?

After some time, she nodded once. “Go ahead.”

“What do you think is the most important thing for a User to become powerful?”

She sipped her drink. It had stopped steaming, gone lukewarm. “You realize that’s kind of a broad question, right? It depends.”

“Every User is different, I get that. But what principle do you think— or…” He scratched his head. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, what did you do differently from all the other heroes to get where you are?”

“Nothing. I don’t think I did anything differently. I just got unlucky.”

“Unlucky?”

“Yes.” Her smile was so pained he worried she might weep. “Do you think this is a good life?” With a hard shrug, she let the blanket fall away, revealing a horrid rotten lump where her left arm should have been, the putrefaction spreading up her shoulder and onto her neck. Even the white tank top she wore was stained with pus and blackish blood on the left side. “I pray every night that some other U-Rank will come along. Just one more, so it’s not all on me anymore. So that if I can’t keep going, humanity doesn’t just cease to exist. I don’t think my wish is going to come true.”

Tears wetted her eyes, but didn’t quite fall. She kept it in, her face quivering with the strain of remaining neutral. She wasn’t a mousy librarian anymore. She was a scared, sickly, exhausted shell of a woman, about as well put-together as the world around them.

Jacob didn’t know what to say. His eyes kept gravitating to her stump. A rancid stench wafted from it, like meat left on the counter for a few days. He probably would have smelled it sooner if not for his deadened nostrils.

Paragon took a few deep breaths. She smiled. Still shaky, but a better effort. “Sorry. It’s not technically classified, but they don’t like it when I say that kind of thing. Makes people panic.”

Yeah, no shit.

Earth’s strongest hero is a basket case who’s one bad day away from offing herself. If she doesn’t die of fucking demon typhoid first.

“Uh…” Jacob was about to say ‘it’ll be okay’, but that would probably just come off as an insult. “Someone will come along. I’m sure of it.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

“What if you’re wrong? I… can’t keep this up.”

“Well, I always wanted to be a U-Rank. I’ll step up.”

She gave a neurotic little giggle at that. “You’d do that for me?”

“Sure. I’m a good guy like that.”

Paragon had another drink and tilted the cup to show the empty bottom. “Your time is up. Did you get what you wanted out of it? Are you star-struck by the great and terrible Paragon?”

Jacob smirked. “Strangely enough, I kind of am. You’re terrifying, lady. In a depressing, existential kind of way.”

“Ha.” It wasn’t really a laugh; she just said the word as though that sufficed.

She winced in pain when she reached for the blanket. Jacob stood and helped it around her shoulders. She thanked him, shuffled to the door in her pink slippers, and turned back.

“Watch me burn, dead man. One last time.”

Then she was gone.

A shiver went through Jacob’s spine. He had to sit back down.

We are so fucked.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so eager to tell anyone about his meeting with Earth’s greatest hero.