Part 2

Eight Months Later

They call me the ‘Great Hero’, but I’m just a man.

The chair was uncomfortable, and Vincent let out an irritated sigh. He’d been waiting in the theatrically dark room for over an hour, with four of Ember’s ‘best’ soldiers. Two flanked the double doors behind him, while two more were on either side of the large, wooden desk that dominated the room.

The solitary window was directly behind the desk, and it had been completely blocked off, leaving a single desk lamp to illuminate an office that must have been twenty by thirty feet. Vincent absently wondered if Ember-Eyes actually used the room for anything other than intimidation, as it had to be depressing for actual day to day use.

He was fidgeting now, as they were approaching summer and the room was growing hot from the afternoon sun. The Radstorm clouds meant New Technopolis–or NTC as it was called in homage to its previous name–was never sweltering, but Vincent had taken to wearing business suits, and a black overcoat.

He was eighteen now, but very much aware that most of the people he dealt with saw him as more boy than man, and the fancy attire–almost unheard of in the city–did a good job of distracting from his age. Most supers beyond Basic aged more slowly anyway, so Vincent was able to pass for his early twenties.

As his powers grew and he passed into higher echelons of power, trivialities like climate and food would slowly disappear. But for now, Vincent was hot, thirsty, and annoyed. He looked up at the decorations on the walls to distract himself once more.

NTC had been ravaged, looted, rebuilt–then ravaged again several times since the Invasion, and that made for a lot of interesting quirks. Vincent wondered if the dinosaur skull crudely hammered into the wall was real, or plaster. Either way it certainly didn’t belong in the building it now rested, which had once been some kind of government administration office.

There were also a few objects the Invaders left behind, which were common in NTC, which had been a stronghold of the aliens. Vincent scanned them for the hundredth time, but they were largely just shards of indiscriminate metal. He wondered if humans were unintentionally displaying alien bathroom accessories, or something similarly absurd, given how minute their understanding of the Invader’s culture was.

Considering that fact compelled him to reach into his pocket and pull out the birthday present Danny had given him. “Hey!” one of the guards shouted, “what the hell is that?” The tall man’s face was covered, but he spoke with a Russian accent, and was clearly used to being obeyed.

Vincent turned a bored expression on him. It was hard to take the Ember gang seriously. He’d quickly learned that the various gangs in NTC tended to follow a single, more powerful super, and part of that apparently meant dressing up like them to some degree. All four guards had various flame patterns on their clothing, some even had tattoos of that nature.

The Russian guard came closer and pointed a K-Tech rifle in Vincent’s face. “I asked you a question, asshole!” he said, and Vincent let out a sigh. He held up the Invader relic that Danny had stolen from Dean Allister. It was a black hexagon of Invader material, feeling somehow like both metal and stone at the same time.

“What it is,” Vincent began with undisguised disinterest, “is mine.” The man’s eyes squinted, and he reversed his rifle, preparing to strike, but one of the other guards was already pulling him back.

“Ember-Eyes will decide his fate,” the woman spoke with a similar accent. The man growled, but let himself be walked back to the desk. Vincent had already forgotten about him, and was instead staring at the relic. Danny was right that there was something strangely compelling about it. It was a mildly disturbing feeling, and Vincent suspected it was the reason his friend hadn’t kept it for himself.

Still, in the months since he’d been given the odd charm, Vincent had made no more headway figuring out its purpose than anyone else had before him. He remembered Instructor Cassidy talking about the relics, and the theory that they were some kind of key to Invader technology, but this one was little more than an interesting keepsake.

Finally the double doors banged open, and Vincent placed the relic back into his pocket. He then pointedly took the dented golden pocket watch from his black suit vest, and made a show of looking at the time before tucking it back in. It was the only thing of his father’s he’d found at the ruined compound, and he enjoyed any excuse to hold it in his hand.

Ember-Eyes saw the gesture as he walked past Vincent, and laughed. The man was short, even shorter than Vincent, and interestingly wore less flame-inspired clothing than his underlings did. Perhaps being able to cause fire to appear with a glance was enough branding for him.

He was dressed in a long red coat, which covered simple black clothing, and his head was entirely shaved–even his eyebrows. Ember sat down across from Vincent in the large desk, and spoke, “Did I keep the important man waiting?” His accent was European, but not as immediately recognizable as the others.

“It’s hot,” Vincent replied, and the man laughed again. “You know why I’m here?” he asked when Ember had quieted.

“Oh, I know whose flunky you are,” the hairless man replied. “What I don’t know is why he would send some foolish little asshole to make demands of the great Ember-Eyes.” The man pronounced it ‘Emberize’, and Vincent briefly wondered if everyone else had it wrong; the accent made it hard to tell, and this one didn’t seem like the spell-it-out type.

“Dollar Bill recognizes what my benefactor is capable of, and sees the value in building friendships…not just piles of bodies,” Vincent responded, and the man laughed even harder.

“You know, pretty one,” Ember said, leaning forward and steepling his fingers on the desk, “it takes a big man to admit when he’s wrong.” Vincent cocked his head curiously, and Ember smiled widely. “You see, apparently I did not know whose flunky you were. I thought you belonged to Dollar Bill, and therefore enjoyed his protection.”

Ember stood up suddenly, and the four guards raised their weapons, training them on Vincent. As the hairless man began to circle his desk, his eyes began to glow with an inner orange light. “You see, I needed a message delivered, and I would have let one of Bill’s minions deliver it alive. I will not extend such courtesy to you and your nameless master.”

He stopped in front of Vincent, leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed. He tsked loudly, shaking his head. “You come into the heart of my territory, simply demanding I leave? This is foolishness worthy of death. Still, I am deciding whether it merits a quick one, or a…fun one.”

Vincent stood up slowly, careful not to spook the armed guards. He smiled at the man only a few feet in front of him, as he carefully smoothed the emerald shirt he wore beneath his vest, and straightened his black tie. “Mr. Ember-Eyes,” he said in a professional tone, “there’s definitely been a mistake.”

“Oh? Enlighten me,” the gang leader replied.

“I didn’t just come here to demand you leave,” Vincent clarified. “I came to tell you that you either leave, or die.” Ember began to laugh again, but his glowing eyes widened as four spectral arms extended from Vincent in the blink of an eye, each ending in hands with disturbingly long fingers and extra joints.

All at once, every guard was slammed backward into a wall, their rifles pinned against them as the hands squeezed. Ember looked back at Vincent, shock–and possibly respect–in his gaze. Vincent’s face took on its bored expression once more, but inwardly he was quite pleased with himself.

After their escape from the swarm of Beta addicts, Vincent’s powers had been strained to the limit, and his KD had even registered his status as ‘critical’. Thankfully the damage hadn’t been permanent, but he’d been unable to use his abilities for nearly six months.

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Still, he’d been able to exercise his body and mind, as well as enjoy the increased rate at which Manifested supers gained attributes. Through it all, he’d felt his powers within, and his understanding grew. When he’d finally been given a clean bill of health, Vincent had begun truly discovering what he could do. Only two months later, he was more than happy with the results.

“So, there is something to you after all, pretty one?” Ember said with a wide grin. “I will remember you with some limited fondness,” he added, and then the expected blaze of liquid fire erupted from his wide, glowing eyes. It washed over Vincent like molten steel.

Truthfully, Vincent had been less confident in the defensive side of his abilities, despite his rigorous training. But as the immense gout of fire broke over the Phantasmal body he projected just a few inches above his skin, he was relieved to confirm his worries were unfounded.

Vincent was far from invincible, numerous painful tests had proven that, but fire was something he was particularly unbothered by. One didn’t confront a man who called himself ‘Ember-Eyes’ without some reasonable certainty of that fact. Still, supers were full of surprises, and he hadn’t been sure the ‘fire’ the man expelled wasn’t some kind of exotic plasma.

Vincent had to keep his own eyes closed until he felt the heat dissipate, and when he finally opened them, the room was changed. The four guards had been nearly incinerated, and most of the office was little more than char and ash, now lit by small fires burning in patches around them. Strangely the walls were intact, suggesting the man had fireproofed this room.

Ember himself was looking at Vincent in rage and disbelief, and he backed up a few steps–only possible as the desk was completely gone. Vincent allowed the spectral arms to withdraw and fade away, but kept a thin layer of what he now understood was projected Alpha energy in front of him.

“Impossible!” Ember shouted, before turning and digging through the ashes on the floor, obviously searching for something.

“This isn’t necessary, Ember,” Vincent said, walking up to the man who was desperately crawling around. “I have a different proposal for you,” he added, kneeling beside the man. “Dollar Bill just wants your gang out of his territory, and for you to stop killing the nice people who deliver food to our fine city.”

The man was still scrambling, and Vincent wasn’t sure he was even listening. He kept trying, “So let’s make a deal. You agree to follow my benefactor, and you and your people get to live.” Ember clearly heard that, as he looked up at Vincent with undisguised rage and hatred.

“You, are an arrogant fool,” he said. Then his hand came up from the ashes, holding a small device. He pressed a button on it, and the double doors burst open. Vincent stood up slowly, looking back across the office. The doors were apparently steel under a wood frame to have survived the fire, and dozens of Ember’s gang were now charging through them, weapons raised.

Vincent sighed, “Consider my offer, Mr. Ember-Eyes. We know you have a lot more people than the hundred or so in this building. We can ensure they’re well taken care of.”

Ember shook his head again as he regained his feet, “More arrogance!” he screamed, then began backing away, giving his people a clean line of fire. Vincent just shook his head in disappointment. He wished just one of these would end the easy way.

“Diplomacy has failed,” he said aloud, and Ember paused to give him a confused look. A moment later the ceiling–also lined with steel–imploded as an enormous shape burst into the room.

There was a long pause as the eight foot man stood up, his knees slightly bent so he could fit in the room. Robert ‘Berserker Bob’ Haufman had also had a difficult six months, as not only were his own powers strained, but Vincent had convinced him to give up Gamma. The withdrawal was both lengthy and brutal.

Still, the man was happy with the results, as his gigantic form had finally settled into symmetrical, nearly-human proportions. His shoulders were easily six feet wide, with arms and a torso to match. His legs were slightly smaller, but equally powerful, and he still trained his massive body as hard as he had back on the farm.

Robert pushed his slick, dark hair back from his face, then began brushing dust from the enormous, midnight blue suit he’d insisted Vincent have made for him. Everyone in the room was still frozen, taking in the sight of the pristinely attired monster of a man.

Robert turned a disturbingly calm face toward the crowd of fire-themed lackeys, before the exposed skin of his face and hands began to turn red, the veins popping out as if ready to burst. He began to shake, and his fists alternately opened and clenched, before he at last let out his now familiar roar.

Time for Bob to go berserk, Vincent thought as his massive friend charged into the group of rightly-terrified gang members. Just one time, he lamented, the easy way, just one time. Then Vincent turned back to Ember, who had backed into a corner.

Knowing he had to stop Robert before he brought the whole building down, Vincent didn’t waste time, and two Phantasmal arms burst out of him. One pinned Ember’s hands to his sides, while the other gripped the man’s head, smothering his dangerous eyes.

Vincent leaned in close, speaking just loudly enough to be heard over Robert’s rampage. “Now, Mr. Ember, have you heard the Voice of the Revolution? He’s my benefactor, and now yours as well.” He leaned closer, making sure the terrified man was listening.

“Let me tell you about the great Veridicus.”

***

Vincent and Robert exited the half-destroyed car in the garage near their headquarters. Vincent looked at the pathetic yellow vehicle, the top of which Robert had torn off. “This thing doesn’t suit our shared aesthetic,” he said, his voice echoing in the ruined concrete parking structure.

“Find me one big enough to sit in, or drive yourself,” Robert said dismissively.

“Tall order,” Vincent said, then looked at his enormous friend expectantly.

“Please, just stop,” Robert said, shaking his head. “Danny’s jokes are bad enough. Yours make me sad.” Vincent frowned. He’d been forcing himself to try many new things since earning his freedom, but his crew insisted that humor shouldn’t be one of them. For some reason that made it seem like a challenge.

The two men took the stairs at the back of the garage, their newly installed ocular K-Devices linking with Emi’s security system to confirm that their path home was clear. As they walked down the familiar back alley, Robert spoke. “I don’t understand how you can think any of these gangs are going to listen to that nutcase.”

Vincent shrugged, “Veridicus will only ever give them one order, and it will be one they want to follow. In the meantime we just need the smaller gangs to lay low, while we build alliances with the larger ones.” Robert grunted.

They entered the supposedly abandoned building through the new, larger door they’d installed. Robert could fit through the small hatch, but it was a lengthy and embarrassing process. The door sealed behind them, looking like old brick on the outside, and they walked toward the central room.

“You said it was today. Do the others know?” Robert asked, his impossibly deep voice echoing in the narrow hallway.

“Emi and Arthur know about the meeting, Danny just knows to be here,” Vincent answered.

“Your sister?” Robert prompted. Vincent didn’t answer as he unlocked the hidden door. They entered the central room, which hadn’t changed much since they’d moved in. It was more of a workspace, and the crew spent most of their time in the living area further into the compound.

Emi was sitting at her desk as usual, having co-opted the entire wall of monitors for her various enterprises. The only major change to the room was the addition of the benches she’d lined up along the far wall, covered in the many Tech-projects only she understood. She turned when they walked in and nodded, before heading to the living area.

Arthur was already at the conference table, reading a book, and he looked up when he saw the unmissable form of Robert approaching. Arthur was also someone who appreciated a specific style, and his bright blue button-up shirt and decorative lilac scarf were an interesting contrast to his deep black complexion.

Arthur pushed his glasses up on top of his cleanly shaven head to look at Vincent expectantly. “It’s time?” he asked.

Vincent nodded, then looked around the room. Finally he spotted an elderly woman napping on a bench in the small eating area. “Danny!” he shouted, and the woman shot up, turning into a perfect copy of Robert as she did so. Danny looked at Vincent with a sleepy expression Robert would never have worn.

“Oh, hey Vince,” he said in Danny’s voice, before quickly shifting back into his own form. Thankfully he was only wearing the stretchy outfit Emi had made for him, or he’d have been naked from the rapid size changes…again.

“It’s time, Danny,” Vincent said, and his friend looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened. He quickly went to grab a nearby cup of coffee that had to be completely cold, before hurrying back to join Arthur at the conference table.

Robert pushed his special, reinforced chair over and slumped into it, arms crossed. At the same time, Emi returned, leading a clearly upset Lucia behind her. Vincent paused for a moment at seeing his sister, who was wearing a bathrobe and looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She glared back at him, challengingly, and he could only sigh.

The two girls joined the others at the conference table, as Vincent threw his long, dark coat over his own chair. He checked his father’s watch by habit as he walked over to the side of the room, then returned pushing a large white board.

Danny laughed as Vincent approached the conference table, while Lucia shook her head and Emi just smiled. Moving in front of it, Vincent grabbed a marker and quickly went to work. He turned back almost immediately. “Thank you all for coming,” he said, one of his rare, wide smiles growing on his face. “It’s time,” he said simply, then moved aside to show the board.

It only had two words written on it: ‘The Plan’.