Vanguard Headquarters.

Doctor Murdock looked at the blood sample.

“Where exactly did we find this?” Murdock asked.

“A sidewalk,” Doctor Johnson answered, “Someone fell from the top story of the Bright Futures corporate office and got back up. I want answers on what he is. Did you run DNA tests on it?”

“Well, I got the med-techs to analyze it,” Murdock said, “But- I have no idea what it means.”

“What do you mean?” Doctor Emile demanded.

“Let me show you the sequence,” Murdock said, gesturing to a screen, “As you can see here, it has the same chemical components as human DNA, but it continues.”

“Continues how?” Johnson asked.

“No idea,” Murdock admitted, “Watch. It adds sequences.”

“What in the-” Johnson sputtered.

“Like I said,” Murdock said, “I have no idea how. Or what it means.”

“Do we have any intel on the subject?” Emile asked.

“Stone Cutter sent a report, footage from Gargoyle’s body cam,” Murdock said, “And pictures sent in by Lady NightRaven and She-Wolf. Neither matches public recordings of our subject. Lady NightRaven and She-Wolf’s report seems to be closer, for what that’s worth. Still, nobody in R&D could figure out what this meant.”

“How is it coded?” Emile asked, “What do the proteins look like?”

“It has the expected nucleotides,” Murdock explained, “But it also has twenty two extra.”

“Twenty two?” Emile asked.

“Yes,” Murdock said.

“Like the alphabet?” Johnson asked.

“It’s a possibility,” Murdock agreed, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we run a cipher program, try to decode this,” Johnson said.

“Decode it into what?” Emile asked.

“No idea,” Johnson admitted, “Our understanding of biology and genetics is shifting everyday. Some days I realize I don’t know anything about a field I’ve studied for decades. At the same time, it could give us more information. Besides, what else are we going to do? Do either of you have any idea what’s happening here?”

“I don’t,” Emile admitted.

“Well, if it will give us a lead,” Murdock said, “I don’t see what we have to lose. One moment, I’ll enter this data into the cipher.”

“I don’t know what we expect to learn from this,” Emile grumbled.

“We expect to learn something, that’s all,” Johnson said.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Murdock said, “According to the cipher, this should say-”

...

“-I’m being scryed!” the fighter said, “Cleric, scry for whoever is scrying us.”

“On it,” the cleric said, switching to a happy cheer, “Alright, listen up everyone! I should be back in just a moment, and don’t worry I can break plenty more curses today.”

“Uh-oh,” the barbarian said, “This is never good.”

“Wizard, get ready to cast Gigantic Laser and Massive Explosion,” the fighter said, “Bard, help the cleric teleport us there.”

“You want me to start putting poison on everyone’s weapons?” the rogue asked.

“Do it,” the fighter commanded, “We’ll need every last inch for this.”

…

“This- erm- um,” Murdock sputtered.

“It’s an a-erm, an action log?” Johnson asked, “Some kind of live report?”

“I think they’re coming after us,” Emile said, “Look, they have a member of the Wizards Guild.”

“We need-” Murdock said, “We need- I don’t want to be a frog.”

“We have magical wards in place, right?” Johnson asked, “How do you know that they can get past the base’s defenses?”

“Well, it’s a member of the Wizards Guild,” Emile pondered, “Getting clear information on their capabilities has always been hard.”

“They’re counting down for teleportation,” Murdock said, “How do we shut this down?”

Bill, a janitor, yanked the blood sample from the machine, sprayed it down with industrial strength cleanser, and deposited it in his cart portable incinerator. Then he shouldered past Murdock to force the machine to reboot.

“Thank you,” Murdock said.

“No problem,” Bill said.

…

“I’m not being scryed anymore,” the fighter said.

“Good,” the barbarian said, “Shows that whoever was looking at you knows what’s what.”

“It’s still worrying,” the wizard said.

“Do you still want me to teleport us?” the cleric asked.

“Nah,” the fighter said, “Anyone powerful enough to scry us is smart enough to leave when we catch onto them.”

“Well,” the barbarian said, “What are we doing now?”

“I could look for sources of evil,” the cleric said.

“Eh, might as well,” the fighter said, “Bard, how did recon go for you?”

“Well, I have this weird new armor,” the bard said, “And this thing. It’s quite nice. Oh! The wizard and I had an idea for a new, enchanted guitar. Do you want to get started on that?”

“Sure, we have time,” the wizard said.

“There’s a really big source of evil towards East South East,” the cleric said.

“Any idea how far?” the rogue asked.

“Afraid not,” the cleric said, staring off into the distance, “But it looks like it’s moving.”

“Welp,” the fighter said, “Not much to do here but waste time then. Bard, you can enchant the instrument on the road.”

“Actually,” the cleric said, “I’d like to finish decursing all these mutant people. It might put us behind by a day.”

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“Ehh, fine,” the fighter said.

“Here, I had a nice, square rock for the enchantment,” the wizard said.

“Do you think we need to paint it black?” the bard asked.

…

“So, Bill,” Emile said, “Now that you’ve destroyed the one blood sample we had, what are we supposed to report?”

“That yer not all dead,” Bill said, “Now, I’ve got more cleaning to do. Any a y’all up for playing cards later tonight? I know a backroom with some good poker games.”

“No,” Emile said.

“Suit yer’ self,” Bill grunted.

“I can file the report to Battle Crow,” Murdock said.

“What are you going to report?” Johnson asked.

“I’m going to report the facts,” Murdock said, “Their DNA, or at the very least his DNA, is a record of everything they see, say, or do. They can, through unknown means, notice when this record is being observed, and quickly prepare for combat. I’m also going to report that Bill probably saved us all by destroying the sample.”

“He yanked the machine’s power cord straight out of the wall!” Emile protested.

“Indeed he did,” Murdock said, “Now, we are all curious, scientific minds. Who here wanted to find out what “Gigantic Laser” and “Massive Explosion” are?”

“They might not have been able to teleport into the base,” Johnson said.

“I suppose they might not have,” Murdock said, “What would you have done if they did?”

“I would turn on the emergency alarm and try to talk things out,” Johnson said, “And then, in all honesty, probably get atomized by whatever “Gigantic Laser” is.”

“Do you want me to include your proposed plan of action in the report?” Murdock asked.

“I’d prefer not,” Johnson admitted.

…

Lana and Irwin were dressed in classy business suits, a laptop clutched in Lana’s arms as Irving adjusted his tie. These meetings were always so stressful, and their client wasn’t exactly helping.

“So, you claim you can build me a lair, as you call it?” Gorestrike inquired.

“Well, we have the technology to have one built for you,” Irving said, forcing a calm into his voice, “We contract out various construction companies and implant memories into the workers once the project is finished. They are paid through a collection of shell companies to ensure it can’t be tracked back to us, or you.”

“And why should I care of this?” Gorestrike demanded, “I am the mighty Gorestrike. The whole world is my domain.”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Gorestrike sir,” Lana said, snapping open the laptop, “A villain as well known as you deserves a good lair. Have you toured Nefarion’s underground lab?”

“I have not,” Gorestrike declared.

“Well, let me assure you it was the height of villain fashion,” Lana said, “Tell me, what would you want your lair to look like?”

“Don’t push the sell,” Irving warned.

“What do you mean?” Gorestrike demanded.

“What my partner means is, to some extent,” Irving said, wiping sweat from his brow, “What does your dream home look like? Where do you want to return to after a hard day’s villainy? What do you want your mighty base to look like, so it can strike fear into the hearts of your enemies?”

“Ah, a castle,” Gorestrike concluded, “Every knight needs a proper castle.”

“If you’d like,” Lana said, fumbling with cables and connecting her laptop to a larger screen, “We have a variety of basic models for you to browse, something to help spur your imagination.”

“Ooh, I do enjoy those dark towers,” Gorestrike remarked, “Erm, can you truly provide the gouts of flame at the top?”

“We assure you, Mr. Gorestrike sir,” Lana said, “Your lair will be built to your exact specifications and desires but-”

“But we’d like you to understand that they are quite costly,” Irving said, “It’s part of why we don’t contact super villains until they’ve reached a certain threshold of success.”

“I have my vaults of treasure,” Gorestrike assured, “Fret not for matters of coin. Hrm. It says here you can provide me a harem.”

“We can,” Irving explained, “Attractive women who will drape themselves over you. They are recruited from local colleges and contracted to work in your harem in exchange for help with their tuition and some physical education credits. They are contractually obligated to keep a healthy figure, and wear whatever clothes you dictate- provided it maintains their decency.”

“Decency?” Gorestrike inquired.

“Private parts must be covered with appropriate material,” Lana explained, “The women can’t be nude, and they have final say on any piercings, tattoos, or body paint. Typically, we use a bikini as a base and add material, jewelry and such, to it.”

“What stops them from revealing my secrets?” Gorestrike inquired, “One can hardly be given credit for something they don’t remember.”

“All the ladies sign nondisclosure agreements,” Irving answered, “Usually, the incentive of tuition, and their choice of college credits or a salary is enough to keep their mouths shut.”

“If it’s not, the Lair Corporation legal team can sue them out of every cent they’d ever see,” Lana said, “We take client confidentiality very seriously.”

“Commendable work,” Gorestrike remarked, “I’m glad to see I shall not be bested by mere bureaucracy. How long would construction take?”

“With recent technological advances, construction can be completed in about a month,” Irving said, “That is, of course, only a rough estimate for some of the less esoteric models. Something built above ground on level terrain doesn’t take long, but if you want an underground base or something that can fly that would add to the timetable.”

“I could have a flying castle?” Gorestrike wondered, “Hrm, I think not. Such ostentatious displays don’t suit me.”

“Landing them can also be a problem,” Irving said, “And refueling is its own problem.”

“Another important thing to remember is adding living quarters to the floor plan,” Lana said, “A lot of villains get caught up with building a lair full of traps that they forget basic amenities.”

“Well, I shan’t worry about underhanded traps,” Gorestrike declared, “No no, I shall personally engage all challengers. Ah! That arena there!”

“The burning ring arena?” Lana asked.

“Truly, a field of honor for true champions!” Gorestrike declared, “I would greatly appreciate it. Ah, and the matching throne.”

“Glad to hear,” Lana said, “Now, the fire ring can be programmed with a command phrase to turn it on and off. For now though, I think it’s best to start with simpler things like bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens and dining areas, then build the rest of the lair around that. It keeps the floor plan from becoming messy, and ensures that important rooms can be easily accessed.”

…

Aurumite watched the footage from the traffic cam that Battle Crow had managed to find. Battle Crow noted that Aurumite had been watching the same scene on loop for over a minute now.

The barbarian let out a furious roar, readying his massive battleaxe. He leapt through the air, plowing through an Underland mutant on his way to his target. Then it looped. Then Aurumite watched it again. Then it looped.

“You have work to be doing,” Battle Crow said.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Aurumite said, “It’s just- look at him!”

“I have been,” Battle Crow said, “Six superhumans come from nowhere, and we barely have any record of them. It’s my job to know things, but they seem to avoid cameras on instinct. The medical team says they made a breakthrough on that.”

“Oh?” Aurumite asked.

“They instinctively know when they’re being monitored,” Battle Crow explained, “It must be how they avoid cameras so often.”

“That’s an interesting power,” Aurumite said. The footage looped again. Aurumite watched it again.

“Seeing something?” Battle Crow asked.

“Yes,” Aurumite said, “I’m seeing someone who fights without a care in the world, his only goal is to hit the enemy as hard as possible. I’m sorry, it’s making me nostalgic.”

“For what?” Battle Crow asked.

“The time when I could fight crime without getting wrapped up in red tape,” Aurumite explained, “The time I could punch a villain and not have to worry about public image.”

“You were reckless back then,” Battle Crow said.

“I know, I know, I’ve heard it all,” Aurumite said, “And yes, I was reckless back then. Some people got hit much harder than they deserved. But, people fought me so I fought them back. Now, people have gotten it into their head that I can fight without causing property damage, that I can win without killing my opponent.”

“You can,” Battle Crow said.

“That’s not the point,” Aurumite retorted, “People who have never been in a fight before, much less one with super powers, are dictating how I’m supposed to fight. People who have no idea what actually goes on when superhumans fight each other are telling me that I can’t punch people through buildings, that I can’t punch holes in my enemy, that I can’t get too injured because otherwise I’ll look weak!” Aurumite mocked. “I have to spend the entire fight trying to figure out how hard I can hit this guy, trying to calibrate a punch just to please a crowd. It’s tiring.”

“I know it’s tiring,” Battle Crow said, “But you’re really nostalgic for the early days? Some of the people you punched, their particules didn’t touch the ground for hours.”

“Which was messy, and gruesome,” Aurumite admitted, “But I’m worried that villains know I’m not really allowed to fight them.”

"You fight Tremortis," Battle Crow stated.

"Everybody fights Tremortis," Aurumite grumbled, "And none of us win. What breakthrough did the medical team make?"

"According to them, the DNA belongs to a man named ‘Fighter’ and is a record of his life," Battle Crow said, "He knows when the DNA is being read, and he becomes hostile."

"You're serious," Aurumite said.

"I always am," Battle Crow said.

"Do the rest of their DNA do that?" Aurumite asked.

"No idea," Battle Crow admitted, “He wants to kill whoever is reading it.”

“That’s,” Auramite said, “Strange. Do you know if the rest of them do that?”

“No idea,” Battle Crow admitted.