Volume 4: Metaphase

Issue 11: VIRC

Jannette Adrian Churchwell

By Nova

The elevator door opened with a ping as I stepped into Dynacrew HQ. Earthstrike, who was playing pool with Cytherea, raised a hand in greeting at my arrival. “Stitch, ‘bout time!” he shouted.

“H-hey, Earthstrike,” I said. “Where are the others?”

“Straight to business, huh?” he said, chuckling. He pointed the pool cue at the white ball, knocking it into a green one.

I didn’t really know how pool worked…

“They're in the Nerve Center,” Cytherea said. “Going over numbers, trying to figure out where we’re gonna patrol tonight.” She lined up a better shot, or at least I think she did, hitting the white ball into a pair on the other side of the table. The blue one went into one of the holes.

“Nerve Center?” I asked.

“Think of it as Renard’s nerd cave,” Earthstrike said, setting the pool cue down. Probably taking advantage of my arrival to stop playing a game he was losing.

“Ignore the idiot, it’s where we go over our stats. Think of it as a bunch of computers streaming all sorts of data at all times. Renard’s power lets him take it all in, then he tells us what to do.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Tells you guys?” I asked, taking a seat at one of the cushy sofas along the wall.

“Basically,” Earthstrike said. But Cytherea shook her head.

“Alright, not really. He gives us a few routes, then we decide,” she said. “That’s probably why Reef’s there, too. She’s helping him narrow our options down.”

“Both of them are crazy worried about tonight’s patrol, since it’s our first one this month,” Earthstrike said. “They want it to be perfect.”

“First one in a… month?” I asked. It was a little surprising hearing that; I usually made a patrol at least once a week, even on my bad weeks.

“Yeah, what of it?” Earthstrike asked.

“O-oh, it’s nothing. Just wondering how you guys do stuff I guess,” I said.

“We have a system, Stitch, don’t worry,” Cytherea said, her face entirely conceited by her costume, but her tone reassuring. “You’ll see tonight, but patrols don’t usually yield anything. At best we throw some gangsters to the cops, but usually we just drive around.”

I always thought the point of a patrol isn’t to bag as many criminals as possible, but to make sure you’re in the right place to help people—but I bit my tongue. “What do you guys usually do, then? If you’re not patrolling?”

“VIRC,” Earthstrike said, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“V-virc?” I asked.

Cytherea groaned. “It’s one of the few good ideas Earthstrike ever had.”

He nodded, smiling. “Thank you, thank you, I am pretty great.”

“What’s… Virc?”

“His graduating thesis-” Cytherea started, but Earthstrike cut her off.

“It’s an acronym,” he said. “Villain Investigation Response and Countermeasures.” He smiled broadly, and though his helmet hid half his features I could tell he was proud.

I stared at him blankly. He cleared his throat. “What I mean is that I came up with a new system of hero-ing, one that leaves patrols back in the last decade where they belong.”

“He didn’t just come up with it—Renard was the one who got all the data.”

“But I put it all together, bringing in the human touch ‘Nard just doesn’t got.”

“I still don’t know what VIRC is supposed to be,” I said.

“Alright, so ninety percent of the hero shit of the last decade was all about… what?”

Did he want me to answer? I just looked at him, watching him shift slightly, uncomfortable. He finally said, “O-okay, it was all about two big things: getting money and showing off.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Getting money and showing off” sure didn’t sum up my work, but whatever. Earthstrike continued, “But that shit was all pretty pointless. None of the baseliners gave a shit whether or not we actually were clearing up petty crime or whatever. What they’re really afraid of, why they keep us around, is so we can take out villains.”

I shrugged. Sure, what he was saying made a sort of sense. The old “superheroes exist to stop supervillains line” was one we’d all heard a million times. I wasn’t sure what his point was, so I let him keep talking.

“But, even though that’s the most important part of the job, it’s only like ten percent of the work. VIRC, uh, ‘re-centers’ it on the villain,” Earthstrike said. “Meaning we spend most of our time doing the same sorta stuff you’ve already seen us do: running ops against villains.”

“Basically, what we do is a whole lot of stakeouts, investigating, keeping in touch with a whole network of snitches and informants… just keeping ourselves ready to strike a villain at the drop of a hat,” Cytherea said.

“So there’s no time for shit like starring in movies, or photoshoots, or special appearances on SNL,” Earthstrike said. “‘Course that does mean that money can be a bit tricky,” he admitted.

“Yeah, especially for all this equipment,” Cytherea motioned around the room. I raised an eyebrow—all I could see was stuff like vending machines, a bar, a pool table… Perhaps noticing my skepticism, Cytherea coughed. “Especially like the stuff in the Nerve Center or the gym.”

“Plus, do you have any idea how much rent costs in Oakland? It’s fucking crazy,” Earthstrike said. “Definitely can’t cover it with the stipend.”

“That’s where the donations come in?” I said. I remembered this from their initial spiel. They were, apparently, one-hundred percent funded by community donations.

Earthstrike nodded. “Yep, which is why we still do patrols, but not too many.”

“Renard says there is a balance between ‘showing the flag’ and being everywhere,” Cytherea said.

“Basically, we get a boost of donations from, like, two things: kicking villain ass and helping the community. But we can’t help too much or they get skittish or whatever, think we’re taking over.”

“Hmmm…” I wasn’t sure if I fully bought that… but whatever, they probably had the numbers to back it up.

“And that’s what Reef and ‘Nard are doing in the Nerve Center. They’re going over our numbers, figuring out who hasn’t seen us in a while, and whether or not they need us to stop in to help out or whatever.”

“Basically, we got all of Facebook, Insta, Twitter, and, like, a bunch of other sites you haven’t even heard of, all streaming Renard all the info he’d need to figure out what we’re doing.”

I shifted on the sofa. “Sounds like you guys have quite the system,” I said.

“Yep!” Earthstrike beamed. “And it looks like you’re gonna get a chance to see it in action.” He nodded down the hall, where Renard and Reef were walking toward us.

“I hope you are not wasting too much time, Earthstrike,” Renard said.

“Hey ‘Nard, you know me. I’ve never wasted a thing in my life,” Earthstrike replied.

“Mmm, quite,” Renard said. He turned toward me. “Stitch, it is good you could come. I was… disappointed that you could not make it to our festivities last night.”

A sudden shudder ran down my spine. Trying to keep my breathing steady, I managed a slight smile. “I-I’m just glad to be here,” I stammered.

Renard and Reef entered the room. Reef took a seat next to me and gave me a slight smile, while Renard leaned against the wall opposite to me. “Is it fair to say that Earthstrike has given you an overview of our methodology?”

Earthstrike gave him a mock salute. “Gave her the whole sales pitch, sir!”

“Shut up,” Cytherea said, before adding, “but yeah, he did.”

“Good, I do not wish to repeat the same information,” Renard said. “Down to business, then?”

“S-sure,” I said, trying to keep the shudders down.

But if anyone noticed, no one said anything. Instead, Renard continued. “Our objective is simple: a patrol of neglected neighborhoods in East Oakland.”

“Not even giving us a choice, man? I just told Stitch we got a vote in the matter, and you pull this shit?”

Renard shook his head. “My apologies, Stitch, but not this time. Our patrol must perform well, if we are to explain our absences over the past few days.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“So everything’s lined up then?” Cytherea asked.

“Yes,” Reef said. “I contacted our people in Jingletown and Mills, they’re getting ready right now.”

I was about to ask what Reef meant, when Renard turned to me. “I am sorry for the short notice, as you have, undoubtedly, not had time to prepare, but you are, of course, welcome to join us for the patrol.”

My heart raced, by being put on the spot like that. I mean, I had come intending to tag along anyways, but after learning about how different their patrol was…

And was this what Ramirez was talking about this morning? Did he not like their new way of doing things for some reason?

But I didn’t want to disappoint Dynacrew. Not again.

“S-sure,” I stammered.

Renard’s mask hid his face, but I had the feeling that he was smiling. “I am glad to hear it. Shall we depart?”

“To the Dynamobile!” Earthstrike shouted.

“It is, uh, not called that…” Renard muttered.

***

The Dynamobile was twenty feet of glossy, obsidian steel. Now, I didn’t like cars—and hadn’t driven one since I got my driver’s license—but even I had to respect the engineering that went into this machine. It was sleek, low to the ground, and almost entirely black. The exceptions to this were the tail light—a thin row of red lines along the rear of the vehicle—and the single bright headlight at the front. Whatever material tempered the windows made it impossible to look in from the outside, but gave us an excellent view of our surroundings from the inside.

And the interior was just as nice as the outside. We sat, facing each other, on seats more at home in a limousine than what looked like a sports car. The engine roared as we swerved through traffic, in a ride so smooth that I wouldn’t have guessed we were moving if I couldn’t see the buildings whipping past us—golden-orange in the setting sun. No one was driving; apparently there was a top-of-the-line autopilot that guided the vehicle safely through even the worst of traffic.

“We’ve never come close to an accident,” Cytherea said, gazing out at the road, which was little more than a blur at the speed we moved at.

“Glad to hear it,” I said. Honestly, had I not been in that accident with the vans less than a month ago I might have been more concerned, but now all I thought about was how my bike wasn’t nearly as cool as this car.

And it was still broken. I’d have to ask Ripple when Tarantula was going to be done with it.

Of course, what, we’d have to meet in a bar or something, right? That’s what Ripple liked to do, right? My stomach churned at the thought of talking to her again.

“So, where we heading?” I asked, trying to take my mind off Ripple.

“A small agricultural cooperative in Fruitvale,” Renard said. “Our people at Mills have organized a sort of gathering.”

“Basically, we go there, plant some vegetables, shake a few hands… you get the picture,” Earthstrike said.

Whatever happened to not wasting time with photoshoots? Still… helping them plant vegetables wasn’t a waste of time. And if someone was taking pictures, spreading the word about the garden, wasn’t that a good thing too? “Sounds good,” I said.

At the speed we were moving at, it wasn’t long before we reached the place. It was an island of green in a sea of concrete, nestled between a car dealership and a large apartment block. “This whole area,” Reef said, “was rebuilt only a few years ago.”

“Yep,” Earthstrike said, getting out of the car, whose doors slid away, hidden somewhere in the side of the vehicle. “The Ghosts went ham one day, got in a huge fight with the last big Oakland hero team, the Society of Six I think. Kicked them straight out of town, they broke up not long after.”

“It’s why we decided to move into Oakland,” Cytherea said. “It was the only city that didn’t have an established hero scene anywhere close to the Academy.”

“So you guys have a… special connection or something to this garden place?” I asked.

“It was my idea,” Renard said, somewhat gruffly. As we crossed the street I saw what I suspected was the source of his irritation: a crowd of people coming out of the garden, heading toward us.

I shared his distaste.

“Dynacrew!” a woman shouted at us. She was blonde, with bright, shining teeth. She was young too, and I could tell she was younger than me by a few years. She waved, a clipboard in hand, and a host of other people behind her. She—and, many in the crowd—wore the same burgundy t-shirt that read “Better Tomorrow: Oakland Community Garden.”

“Jen!” Cytherea said. She strode toward the woman; “Jen” I assumed. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Cytherea,” Jen said. She locked eyes with me. “Stitch? Are you joining Dynacrew for today?” Her voice was a little uncertain, and she glanced between me and Cytherea. Had no one told her?

Cytherea gave an awkward sort of chuckle. “Don’t worry, Jen, she’s with us.”

“I-is this going to be a problem?” I asked.

“No, no, no,” Jen said. “Of course you’re welcome.” Her eyes were warm when she looked at me, but looking back at Cytherea they narrowed. “Hey, can we and Renard talk business,” she said. “About the upcoming shoot?”

Cytherea shrugged. “Sure. Come on, ‘Nard.” She glanced back at me, but didn’t say anything.

I just stood there, not really certain what to do. As Renard, Cytherea, and Jen headed away, I could hear a faint, hushed conversation emerge. “What were you thinking?” I could barely make out the words from Jen. “With all that Seraph baggage? Do you know what that’ll do to your numbers in this neighborhood?”

“I know it’s not glamorous, or whatever, but trust me when I say it really gets our name out there. Helps people too,” Earthstrike said, placing himself between me and the trio. I couldn’t hear over him, to what the others were saying, and it took more strength than I thought I had to keep myself from glaring at him.

So I just shrugged. “Who is she?” I asked him, motioning at Jen.

“Her? That’s Jen,” he said, as if that answered the question.

“Yeah? What’s she do? Some kind of agent of yours?”

Earthstrike laughed. “Ha! Good one. But, yeah, I guess a little. She’s a student, I think Berkeley or something, don’t know for sure… but whatever, she’s a baseliner we keep on staff to organize stuff for us.”

“A student?” That matched her apparent age, though the way she talked struck me more like one of those more… ruthless lawyer types I’d met in my career. “Huh.”

Earthstrike nodded. “Yep, she has a whole group of volunteers making sure our socials and stuff are good. From what ‘Nard tells us, we’re kinda a sensation at the colleges.”

“Huh,” I said again, and I heard Renard, Cytheria, and Jen returning. The latter had a wide smile on her face as she looked me in the eye.

“Alright guys!” she said, “Let’s get ready for action. Stitch,” she pointed at me, “we’re gonna have you handing out veggies to the kids, that work with you?” she said in a way that made clear I didn’t have a choice in the matter if I wanted to be here.

I nodded. “S-sure,” I said.

Jen’s smile widened, if such a thing was possible. “Great,” she said. “Then Earthstrike, get digging in bed three. Renard and Cytheria can do some watering… Reef, you’re on hauling duty. Everyone on the same page?” Dynacrew muttered affirmatively. “Great,” she said again.

“Oh, and Stitch?” Jen turned to me. “Since you don’t know where anything is, follow me, I’ll show you where you’re going.” Then, she steered me away from the rest of the group, the crowd—and toward the fields at the far side of the garden.

“Just what do you think you’re playing at?” Jen said as soon as we were out of earshot.

“W-what?” I stammered.

“Some sort of comeback tour? ‘Please forget I helped the craziest hero Cali’s seen since Sludge, I’m a good guy now!’”

“What? W-hat are you talking about, Dynacrew invi-”

“Oh, I know. Apparently you’re such a big score that Renard just has to undo months of planning to include you.”

“H-hey!” I glared, my face flushed. Why was this… random college student accusing me of masterminding an invitation?

“So let me tell you something. Don’t interfere.”

I blinked, not sure what to expect.

“Dynacrew has a very specific way of operating—one that makes the few events like these that they do very important,” Jen continued, apparently unbothered by my confusion. “You’re like a… chaotic element. Something that could throw this whole operation into disarray.”

“I-I…” I wasn’t sure how I’d interfere to begin with. I sighed. “L-look, if it’s so important just tell me what to do.”

Jen smiled. “Alright then.” She pointed toward a few crates full of fruit. “See those boxes? In about ten minutes a bunch of kids are gonna come over and you’re gonna start handing out fruit. Don’t worry about what kind or anything like that, just hand them over and make sure to smile.” She narrowed her eyes. “Your old boss has a bit of a reputation in this neighborhood, so don’t scare the kids. Capiche?”

I sighed. “A-alright.” Before I could say anything else, Jen spun around and walked off.

“Okay then…” The boxes were full of oranges, apples, and pears. I didn’t know enough about plants to know whether or not they were grown here, but I suspected that most of these fruits probably didn’t ripen here in February. Still, right on cue, a line of kids formed in about five minutes. I gave my best smile, though with my mouth behind my mask I wasn’t sure why I needed to, and tried to look as friendly as I could for the kids.

And the cameras, too. A flock of college students with oversized—and I suspected overpriced—cameras arrived with the kids. They snapped pictures at every possible moment, not giving me or the kids a moment of privacy. Not that I really knew what I could do with these kids other than hand them the fruit like I was told to. They seemed distant with me as they approached, and some eyed me with strong suspicion.

And while it wasn’t like I knew how to interact with kids who did like me—like Ramirez’s children this morning—I really had no idea what to do for these kids. I had to wonder how they knew me… I never really went hard into merchandising like some heroes, though I did sign away my image a few times—for Icons cards and stuff I was personally interested in. This meant that the kids probably only knew me from the news, or more likely what their parents told them. And since I was with Seraph, and these kids were from the poorer neighborhood…

Well, I should have just been glad that they weren’t all glaring at me.

I was out of fruit in just a few minutes, and Jen quickly snagged me and almost pulled me to another photoshoot before I could get my bearings. I posed with the rest of Dynacrew, holding shovels and pretending to dig holes for trees, for what felt like far longer than I was with the kids. No one really said anything productive—at least, not to me—as we shuffled from one pose to the next. Halfway through, I pretty much tuned out, and just went through the motions.

Then as quickly as we began, we were done. I found myself back in the Dynamobile, blinking dumbly as the buildings whizzed on by. The sun had slunk below the horizon by now, and the lights of the city were mixing with the pale gray twilight sky above. “Jesus Christ, Jen went all out today,” Earthstrike groaned.

“Indeed,” Renard grunted. I got the impression he didn’t care for the photoshoots either.

“Cheer up, guys, it’s over now,” Cytherea said—her voice was more upbeat than the other’s. I had a sneaking feeling she had more fun doing this than the rest of us.

“Is that how these things usually go?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. I didn’t want to sound like I thought that was just a waste of time, but I couldn’t help but think about how Earthstrike had talked a big game about “not doing photoshoots” when I first met him…

Reef nodded. “Yes, that’s usually what we do. The pictures help maximize our impact on social media, allowing us to reach far more people than if we had just planted some trees and called it there.”

“Hmm.” I still wasn’t convinced. Even if Dynacrew had better “outreach” with these pictures, I felt like the only useful thing I had done was give some kids some fruit. Which they probably could have done themselves, now that I thought about it.

I sighed. I wanted to feel like I was making a difference, and—even if Dynacrew really was helping the city—it sure didn’t feel like it. I yearned for the days when I would heal everyone in the hospital, before They showed up; those faceless goons representing God knows who, and started killing my patients if I didn’t stop. I wanted to be back out there, pulling people from car accidents, mending the wounds of strangers, fighting crime… Helping people.

But was I just a fossil now? After only four years as a superhero?

My eyes drifted lazily over the city. I didn’t know where we were going now, nor did I really care if it was more of the same. I nearly drifted off to sleep—exhaustion threatening to overtake me—when an unusual orange glow caught my eye. My eyes lazily focused on it, then widened as I realized what it was.

“Fire!” I shouted, pointing at the flaming blotch. It was probably a mile away from where we were on the highway, up on a hill overlooking the rest of Oakland. Thick black smoke belched from it, and I could just make out the bright dots of windows below it. Clearly a building fire of some kind. The others’ eyes darted toward it, then toward Renard.

“We should check that out!” I said, not liking the hesitation on the part of the others.

Renard cleared his throat. “Yes, we, ah, could spare the time. Let us have a look.”