Emmett and Clara suited up in silence, then engaged their basic disguise. Athena was already waiting by the fire escape window. Emmett had never seen her so on edge.

Athena said quietly, “I know I can’t stop you, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

Emmett and Clara shared a look. Neither of them was going to back down.

He echoed Athena’s words from the week before. “You don’t have to come.”

Athena smirked, but the expression was grim instead of reassuring. “Please. You’re stuck with me. I’m ready when you are.”

Emmett breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that Athena hadn’t reconsidered. After all, they had far too few allies for what they were about to do, and Emmett doubted Dr. Venture himself could’ve put them at ease.

~

It was Clara’s idea to reach out to Ichabod.

At first, Emmett thought she was joking, but she didn’t let the idea go.

The longest part of the entire plan wasn’t convincing Emmett to go along with it, or even convincing Ichabod to meet with them. The longest part was finding a place to meet.

They’d spent three days going back and forth on locations, vetting abandoned buildings and underground tunnels. They needed somewhere far enough away from the apartment that was safe from drone observation and biomech patrols. It also needed multiple escape routes.

And they needed Ichabod to agree to meet there.

That part was easier than expected. Ichabod agreed to the first location they suggested.

Mod, Arsenal, and Athena slipped out of the apartment and made their way to the abandoned warehouses on Eastside.

It was a gamble going back to Eastside after almost getting caught the week before last, but they’d escaped from drones and biomechs before. Besides, TINA could scout for patrol signals. Their group had briefly discussed meeting underground, but all three were against it. There was much less chance of running into a patrol, but they’d be trapped underground with a Class 4 super—one without the morality of Golden Boy. If it came to it, it would be much easier to escape above ground. If they got really desperate, they could always use a biomech patrol as a distraction…

The group snuck through alleyways, avoiding patrols until they came to an abandoned textile factory. They leapt over the barbed wire fence. Both Mod and Arsenal cleared it easily, and Athena cleared it by jumping off of her forcefields. Then the three jumped up the side to a busted window on the third floor. The smell of musty fabric hung in the air, and Mod’s footprints were still preserved in the thick layer of dust from where he’d scouted the place.

One large, open factory floor dominated the first two levels. Looms, sewing machines, and conveyor belts were frozen like a skeleton with strands of fabric still clinging to its corpse. The factory had been abandoned for years, and the barbed wire and heavy doors had kept almost everyone out. There wasn’t any sign of homeless people or anyone else, but supers had definitely used the place for sparring at one point—some of the machinery had been pushed against the walls to form a sparring area on the main floor.

The offices upstairs looked like most of the other abandoned warehouses Mod had frequented—the floor covered in scattered papers and trash, except that reams of fabric were included in the mix.

The group quickly fanned out, checking the building and setting up cameras around the meeting location. They focused on the central hallway. It was flanked by offices, each with windows that they could escape from if needed. Mod and Arsenal took position in the hall, while Athena waited in a nearby room.

Then they waited.

~

Mod felt Ichabod arrive, even before the vampire tripped the cameras.

His skin prickled, and it felt like a chill had settled into the hall. The feeling was oppressive and heavy; the only thing Mod could compare it to was the primal feeling of fear when he’d run from Larian’s shadow cat, Indovu. Like a predator was stalking him in the woods.

Ichabod had leapt up to the same window they entered from, like he’d tracked their scent. Then the vampire walked toward them, sparing glances at each tiny camera he passed.

It wasn’t just Mod who was on edge—Arsenal’s breathing sped up and Athena shifted nervously down the hall.

“It’s just pheromones,” TINA said in their earpieces.

“...Oh, is that all?” The voice echoed down the hall. It was soft and deliberate, despite the ancient force it represented.

Mod glanced around, trying to make as little sound as possible. TINA had been monitoring the cameras, and there wasn’t anyone else in the building. Did Ichabod have other powers? Could he see their positions somehow and knew there were only three of them?

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

…Or had he simply heard TINA through their earpieces from across the hall?

Ichabod walked around the corner a moment later. He looked like the personification of Death wearing a well-tailored suit.

Even from a distance, he loomed over them. Mod’s cybernetic eye measured him at almost seven feet tall but his lanky frame and short ceiling made him look even taller. His hair was jet black, his face was pale and sunken. His fingernails looked more like claws.

Mod felt that primal sensation of fear ebb as TINA adjusted nanites in his body, but he was still on edge. They were still dealing with a Class 4 super, likely one of the most powerful people in Belport.

“That’s far enough,” Mod said.

Ichabod didn’t stop walking.

Using a camera feed from Arsenal’s helmet, Athena put up a forcefield in front of Ichabod. It cast the vampire in a blue UV glow.

Ichabod paused and stared at it curiously. Then the claws of one hand against the barrier and continued walking. Across the hall, Athena groaned under the strain. She’d made the barrier slightly wider than the dimensions of the hallway, so it cut slivers into the wood and Ichabod pushed it inexorably forward.

Mod pulled his fusion rifle free from its sling and shouldered it. The rifle hummed with power. Steam came off of Arsenal’s thinsuit.

Mod raised his voice. “I said that’s far enough.”

Thankfully, Ichabod stopped. He was halfway down the hall now. The barrier flickered but turned solid once more. Ichabod relaxed his hands at his sides.

“I assure you, I only want to talk. I have no reason to harm Venture’s daughter or his cyborg. Now, I presume you have questions.”

Mod relaxed the rifle, but the gesture was more symbolic than practical—he could shoot just as well from his hip.

Arsenal said, “How did you know my father?”

Ichabod tilted his head with bird-like curiosity. “Your father has been a consultant for Gnosis even before he was removed from the Summit. He helped us develop various technology and harden our security.”

Mod asked, “What about the mutagen manufacturing warehouse?… We know you talked to Venture before and after it. Why?”

Even though they already suspected the real reason was about Lock, they needed to know how much they could trust Ichabod. And just what Dr. Venture had been up to.

Ichabod’s face was unreadable. “Part of our mutual arrangement. Those unlicensed mutagens were a danger to the public and to the company. By tracking them down, Dr. Venture was doing us a favor.”

Mod and Arsenal exchanged a glance.

Despite Mod’s excitement at being a mask, he’d always wondered why Venture had never steered them away from the mutagen manufacturing warehouse. It had been more dangerous than they expected, but Dr. Venture kept saying he had faith in both Emmett and Clara. Now it made a lot more sense. Not only did Mod and Arsenal get real-world practice, Dr. Venture also got to help Gnosis clean up a mess.

Arsenal sighed. “Why did Dad work for you? Did you have something on him? Or… Or was it just the money?”

Again, Ichabod regarded her curiously. “You think we’re monsters?”

“Yes,” Clara answered without hesitation. “We know about the mutagen programs, the wars, all the harm that Gnosis has done.”

“And yet, your father was willing to work with us. Did your father strike you as a man that would work with monsters for want of money or fear of blackmail?”

“Then tell me why.”

“Because your father and I share a vision. One that clearly you were not ready to learn.”

For the first time, there was a flicker of emotion in Ichabod’s voice. Disdain rattled in the back of his throat.

Mod stared down the vampire. “Dr. Venture’s gone. He’s imprisoned in the lab. He can’t tell us, but you can.”

“Do you know what separates a higher life-form from a lower one? It’s not intelligence. It’s ambition. Most creatures desire to survive and procreate. But what do higher life-forms desire? Vampires and humans do not wish merely to survive. We wish to thrive. It was not enough for humans to harness fire or agriculture. They built roads and cities and remade the world to suit them. We vampires live in the shadows, but we are no less ambitious. Gnosis is merely one example.

“But the world grows stagnant—Nations have solidified. Power has consolidated…” Ichabod trailed off, his lips twisting into a sneer of disgust.

“There’s still war,” Mod countered. “Even when the Deep Ones attacked, Shian and Catalina barely stopped fighting, and there’s smaller conflicts across the world.”

Ichabod waved a dismissive hand. “You haven’t lived long enough.”

Arsenal added, “Are you really saying that peace across most of the world is a bad thing?”

“Yes.”

The word reverberated in the hall. Silence followed. Finally, Arsenal’s voice rose in a demand.

“Why was my dad working for you?”

“Because your father and I share a vision—the end of all supers. In one, artificers rule the world. In the other, vampires rule. Until the rest of the supers are dealt with, he and Gnosis have a mutual ceasefire.” Ichabod smiled. “Naturally, this extends to those under his protection.”

Arsenal shook her head. “I don’t believe you. Dad wouldn’t try to take over the world. He’s not…”

“...He’s not what? Not a villain? Villain is just a word. A word defined by those in power. It’s no different than the government of the Allied States backing Catalina over Shian. They choose the hero. They choose the villain. They ban supers from interfering in wars, while letting corporations like us intervene.”

Mod asked, “That’s the government… Why did Venture want to eliminate supers?”

“Supers are no different. The Summit determines who can register and they designate who is a villain. The Menagerie determines which psychics are allowed to exist freely. And the Binary Brotherhood dictates which technology can be proliferated.”

Mod thought back to early on in his training. Dr. Venture had said that his arm could revolutionize prosthetics for amputees. …Then there was Midas during his speech at the Capitol Building, saying that the Brotherhood was going to revolutionize computing, energy, and medicine.

The Brotherhood had stonewalled Venture, only to turn around and steal everything from him. They’d kept up the stalemate until they could seize control.

Mod said, “The Deep Ones changed everything, didn’t they? You and Venture were biding your time, but the war screwed everything up.”

“The world waits for no one.”

~ ~ ~