#cronomi

Surreal-Estate

Cron and Omi stood on a high walkway, overlooking The Bunker. That was their name for their secret hideout, like The Watchtower or The Justice Cave. In reality, The Bunker was just an old mining cavern, 100 yards wide in every direction, excavated by their hands. It was dark and grim, with enough rough girders connecting the various platforms for it to be mistaken for a collapsed building site. But everything they needed for hero work was there. On one platform were two motorbikes, armoured and sleek for missions, on another a large computer, blinking with lights, and on a third, a training dojo, all sandbags and weights.

It was home.

Of the pair, Cron was the taller, wearing a red and silver wrestler’s mask with matching spandex tank top and trousers. Half a purple gem was set in the mask’s forehead, and a short black beard protruded from his chin, his visible skin tone indicating he was Chinese. His body was muscled and burly, practically straining against his suit in places, exposed arms almost naturally flexing.

Beside him was Omi, lean and wiry, but there was power in those limbs. Thin and bendy like a gymnast, fingers like a pianist flexed anxiously. The other half of the purple gem was mounted on his forehead to match his partner. He too was Chinese, probably, looking past the mask, but he was clean shaven, his suit a strong silver and blue to contrast Cron, and his outfit had sleeves.

And below them lay Annihilator.

Annihilator was a giant robot, and also a prolific supervillain. A hulking form, almost twelve foot tall, and made from enough armoured metal to be mistaken for an upright tank. The machine had bestial reversed legs, arms tipped with drill claws, and two massive spikes protruding from its back like horns. A tail extended from its rear to help its balance, while its skin was industrial iron, coated with rivets and dents. The word Annihilator was painted across its midsection, though only the A, H and R were original to the design, black and burned in by branding. The other letters had been added on with pink spray paint, spelling the name across its chest. It was a strange mixture of machine and monster, with the furious power of both and none of the patience. The only part that was less intimidating was its head, which was a small security camera enclosed in a glass orb, one that swivelled around to look at things.

The orb was currently on a small shelf nearby, detached from the body.

“So, we actually captured him?” Omi said doubtfully.

“Hey, we got lucky,” Cron answered, his voice deep and calm.

“Maybe too lucky. This feels like a trap.”

“But it hasn’t sprung yet, has it?” Cron snipped, then took to logic instead. “Look, we found him while he was… sleeping. Can’t you take that as some good fortune, Omi?”

He knew “sleeping” wasn’t the right word. They’d found Annihilator while he was offline, recharging itself, and managed to get the head into a box before it could reactivate. They’d then used their bikes to drag the body back to base.

“And how is this good fortune? What are you planning?”

“It’s an opportunity, Omi,” Cron slapped him on the back. “You use that big brain of yours to dismantle the bot, I smash what needs smashing, then that’s one less supervillain in the world. Makes sense?”

Omi stared in shock. “You want me to kill it? But we don’t kill people!”

“That thing isn’t people,” Cron argued. “It’s not even one person. Persons can’t tear tanks apart with their bare hands… Well, I can, but that’s not the point. Besides, we don’t have to actually ‘kill’ him-” He did air quotes- “If we leave the head and just dismantle the body…”

“He could still be punished, but he wouldn’t be a threat to anyone anymore,” Omi understood.

“That’s it. Now get down there, use that big brain, and disassemble him.”

“Um, pardon?” Omi looked alarmed. He, himself, was going to have to climb down there? By himself? Near Annihilator? Near the giant killer robot?

He cooled his fear with some rational thinking. He’d checked, and as far as they could tell, the body was non-functional… but who could tell with a robot. The little camera lay dormant, its lens pointing down, asleep, for lack of a better term. Even so, it felt like climbing down to perform surgery on a sleeping tiger when you were a mouse. One swipe and…

“Hey, Omi,” Cron called when Omi was halfway down. “What does A.H.R mean?”

“What?”

“The letters on Annihilator’s chest? The original ones. What do they mean?”

“Automatic Helpful Robot,” Omi recalled, shouting back up. “Supposedly, the big lug was designed to be a helper robot, for chores and such. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out. As you might have guessed, something went wrong.”

“Huh… A helper robot with drill claws and laser cannons?”

“Maybe he was really a mining robot?” Omi shrugged. “There isn’t much info on it. Also, it’s difficult to tell how much is self-modification. He’s been an active villain for almost three decades now, upgrading as he goes.”

“That long huh?” Cron sighed to himself. “Well, let’s put an end to that streak.”

Quietly, Omi reached the lower platform. His tools were laid out nearby, but it was still an intimidating sight. The beastly robot was splayed out, its limbs overhanging the edges of the platform. And up close it felt so much bigger.

Omi grabbed some tools and made his way around to the head end. There was an empty socket where the camera globe should be, and he could see the various weapons hidden beneath sliding plates of the armour. He lifted a blowtorch, and as carefully as he could, lit the flame. It flared and hissed, and he had to fight the urge to switch it back off. But the robot stayed silent. He looked to the camera globe on the shelf. It didn’t move. Omi breathed out  a sigh of relief.

“To work,” he said, then raised the blowtorch to the plating.

A little red light started blinking inside Annihilator.

“ERROR! ERROR! DAMAGE DETECTED! WHAT’S GOING ON?” the camera whirred to life. It span in its ball like a confused hamster, then finally settled its lens on Omi. Omi span and aimed the blowtorch at the ball. When nothing further happened, he unclenched slightly.

“We meet again, Annihilator,” Omi said as grandly as he could. He was shaking.

“DESIGNATION: OMI. DESIGNATION: THREAT. I WILL KILL YOU!” Annihilator growled in a flat monotone. It shuffled in its orb, like it was trying to move its arms. It looked down. “OH!” it realised.

“Yep. You’re nothing without your body,” Omi said with a smirk.

“And soon that body will be in pieces,” Cron added, leaping down to join the conversation.

“DESIGNATION: CRON. DESIGNATION: THREAT. I’LL KILL YOU TOO.”

“Try it, rust bucket,” Cron sneered. He picked up a large wrench and smashed it against Annihilator’s shoulder plate.

“DAMAGE! DAMAGE! STOP THAT!

“No.” Cron stuck out his tongue.

“Don’t tease the death robot,” Omi chastised, then turned his blowtorch back to its work.

“ENGAGING REMOTE CONTROL!” Annihilator announced.

Omi and Cron faced the head, then hurriedly turned to defend against the body.

Nothing happened.

“BUGGER!” the head groaned.

“Right. Should have said,” Cron remembered, pointing to some machinery above. “I turned on that signal scrambler thing. You know the one?”

“Oh. Good work,” Omi panted, his heart slowing again. “I really should have sorted that.”

“Well, good thing there’s two of us,” Cron punched his shoulder. Gently.

“NOOOOOOOO!” Annihilator cried in a low flat roar. In its ball, the camera began to spin fast, whirring wildly, its motors screaming at super speed. The camera was just frantically revolving, round and round, having a futile tantrum. Soon it was a blur of movement inside, and Omi and Cron decided to ignore it so they could begin.

Inside its ball, the camera continued to pick up speed, spinning like a washing machine. Then, unseen inside its globe, the camera stuck out some little pins. The pins anchored, threading like needles into little holes, and all that spinning became momentum. Like dropping a spinning tire onto a road, the orb shot forwards, launched off the shelf, hit the floor, bounced, ricocheted, bounced again, rebounded off Cron’s head, and then landed neatly in the body’s neck port.

As Omi helped Cron back to his feet, they both stared up, the giant, armoured form looming over them like… well, like a giant robot.

“BODY REINITIALISED. SYSTEMS ONLINE. CONCLUSION: YOU TWO ARE SCREWED,” it roared flatly, raising its screeching drill claws.

“Run!” Cron yelled and pushed Omi clear. A claw tore through the platform like it was paper, and was followed by laser fire as cannons unfolded out of Annihilator’s shoulders. Omi and Cron dove behind a computer bank, taking cover as blasts cascaded in all directions. Annihilator roared, actually a pre-recorded dinosaur noise from a film, and lashed out at everything within range.

“We need to stop this!” Cron yelled, poking his head up to assess the situation.

“We need to get out of here,” Omi argued.

“We can’t abandon The Bunker. It’s our home.”

“It’s our place of work, and you know it.” Laser blasts flew high overhead.

“Alright, but still…” Cron accepted. He paused. “What is that rust bucket aiming at? It knows where we are.”

Cannons were firing, but not one shot had come close to them. Omi slowly poked his head out. Annihilator was aiming upwards, firing like a madman, like a cowboy shooting his guns in the air. The robot was even repeating “YEEHAW!” in its flat mechanical voice.

“Seriously, what is it aiming at?” Cron poked his head out as well.

Omi looked up. “The roof!” he cried in dreadful realisation.

The plasma bolts were pulverising the ceiling, vaporising boulders. There was a terrible creak as a support girder came loose and fell, dust pouring from above. Pouring from the mountain they were underneath.

“We need to get out of here!” Cron agreed. “Bikes!” They both ran.

Annihilator spotted them and diverted one cannon towards them. Cron punched the ground, pulling loose a metal plate the size of a table cloth. He held it like a shield as plasma bolts thudded, sounding like a steel drum. Protected, the two heroes ran for the bikes.

“INQUIERY: DO YOU WANT TO KNOW MY FAVORITE GENRE OF MUSIC!” Annihilator called over the gunfire. Neither hero answered. “ROCKET AND ROLL!” the robot finished. A panel shifted on its back and a single missile fired upwards.

Omi heard it. He was still carrying the blowtorch. He threw it. With supernatural speed and accuracy, the blowtorch intercepted the rocket, detonating in the air.

The explosion shook the cavern. Boulders and metal platforms dropped from the ceiling, crashing into the floor below. The cave rumbled as it came apart. Annihilator stopped firing, but only because his footing collapsed. Omi and Cron reached the bikes, jumped on, and sped off down a ramp. Boulders rained around them, everything shook, the narrow paths swinging violently as the pair danced their tires across them. Then, with a final burst of speed, they reached the escape tunnel and made it out into the open midday sunlight.

Five seconds later the roof caved in behind them.

The pair kept going. The mountain their base was under was imploding. They kept going until they were well clear, about half a mile out, then stopped and turned to see the damage.

The entire mountain slope was gone. Just a vast pile of rocks. Other than the fact it was still rumbling, and a few stray girders were sticking out, there was no evidence there had ever been a hideout there at all.

At the edge of the rubble, a rock exploded. Annihilator’s drill claws made short work of it as the robot strode out onto the slope. His camera span around, searching, but it didn’t see anything. It raised a metal fist triumphantly.

“ANALYSIS: VICTORY. THAT IS WHAT YOU GET!” it proclaimed, then took off loping across the mountain range.

Omi and Cron came out from behind a rock and examined the terrible scene.

“We’re going to need a new hideout,” they said in unison.

* * *

 “Are you sure about this?” Cron asked, following Omi across the rooftops.

“It’s the best bet I can think of,” Omi answered, shrugging while flipping over a gap.

“Will we even be welcome at the Guild of Heroes? We’re not exactly members.”

“Yes we are,” Omi corrected.

“What?”

“We’ve been members for years. I signed us up when we first started.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve just never convinced you to go to the meetings, and I couldn’t exactly go on my own. We’re a team.”

“Well, you could have mentioned it,” Cron grumbled. “How much does membership cost?”

“Don’t worry,” Omi reassured. “The Guild is run off charitable donations.”

Cron narrowed his eyes. “Your charitable donations?” he interrogated. He knew his partner too well.

“Umm… Oh, we’re here,” Omi changed the subject.

They stopped at the edge of a roof overlooking an old, abandoned theatre. It was off the main roads and mostly out of sight from houses, with old decrepit warehouses on three sides. It truly was a bad place for a theatre. But outside, many people were queuing. Most were wearing any clothing that theoretically looked inconspicuous. Of course, by the sheer number of them it looked incredibly conspicuous indeed. Under many of the garments, spandex and brightly coloured cloth could be seen.

“And they’ll know how to get a new hideout?” Cron asked.

“Presumably?” Omi guessed.

“Alright.” The pair dropped to the street below and approached the door.

An officious looking man in a blue super suit was standing beside the entrance. Rather than abs on his suit, he had squares like door panels, and there was a golden handle attached to one hip. The logo on his chest was a blue door with an explosion behind it. As people entered, they were flashing cards at him and he was letting them pass.

“Name?” he said in a nasally voice, intercepting the pair before they entered.

“Who are you to ask?” Cron demanded, trying to sound important.

“I am The Door Man,” the man countered, sounding even more important. He emphasised the “The” as if he was the greatest person there. “And you don’t get in without my say so.”

“We’re heroes, aren’t we? We can go in,” Cron said, using his outfit as evidence. Door Man just looked venomous.

“We’re also members of the guild,” Omi said, pulling Cron back.

“Names?”

“Omi and Cron.”

“Oh, like the Greek letter,” Door Man grinned. “That’s clever.”

“What Greek letter?” Cron said in dull confusion. “We’re Team Cronomi.”

Omi nodded in agreement.

Door Man just stared, confusion wrapping about his face but not making it into words. Finally, he surrendered, and turned back to the clipboard he was holding.

“Is this your first time here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Omi answered.

“Then I’ll need you to answer a few questions first. Then you’ll be given an access card and you’ll be free to attend as and when you like.”

As heroes passed them, they were all flashing little red cards. Even while dealing with Omi and Cron, one of Door Man’s eyes was keeping track of them.

“If we must,” Omi shrugged.

“Fantastic,” Door Man grinned politely. “First question: What are your names?”

Omi and Cron paused for a moment.

“Superhero names will do, not real names.”

“I’m Omi. This is Cron,” Omi pointed to each of them in turn.

“Good, good.” Door Man wrote it down. “What gender do you identify as?”

“Bit personal,” Cron mumbled.

“Both male,” Omi answered.

“As I’d guessed, but one can’t assume,” Door Man muttered. “Sexual orientation?”

“Oh, why do you need to know that?” Cron complained.

“In case of love potions, enhanced pheromones or siren songs. Trust me, it does happen,” Door Man said matter-of-factly. “I do have a box to tick that just says ‘N/A’?” he suggested.

Cron sighed. “I’m gay. He’s bi. Happy?”

“It’s just for the documentation, sir,” Door Man soothed. “Relationship status?”

“Oh, come on-”

“In case of kidnappings,” Door Man explained.

“Um, dating? Living together?” the two heroes said in awkward unison.

“Oh, you two are a couple?”

“No, no, no,” Omi corrected hurriedly. “Just living with our own partners… separately. We could never date.”

“Exactly. I’d never date him,” Cron agreed. “We’re nothing alike.”

Door Man eyed their identical outfits, their similar mannerisms, and the identical half jewels on their foreheads. He cooly moved on. “Okay then. Next, are you humans or aliens?”

“Humans,” Omi answered.

“Good, good,” Door Man purred again. “And what are your powers?”

Omi stepped up grandly. “I have superhuman reflexes and aim, capable of hitting any target with any thrown object.”

Cron stepped up beside him. “And I am a master of the combat arts, with fists of steel and strength to match. Together we are-”

“Cronomi!” they finished in unison.

Door Man barely reacted. “One throws things, the other hits things,” he muttered as he wrote.

Omi and Cron both slumped a little.

“Source of your powers?” Door Man continued. “I have boxes for ‘Practical’, ‘Mystical’ or ‘Biological’.”

“Um…our powers come from two halves of an ancient artefact,” Omi tapped the jewel on his forehead.

“Each of us has half, two halves of a true warrior,” Cron said proudly, pointing to his own.

Door Man considered it for a moment. “I’m just going to put mystical.” He ticked a box. “Very well, that’s my last question. You may head in, and your entry cards should be ready by next month’s meeting.”

“Cool. And do you know where we can get information on new hideouts?” Cron asked bluntly.

Door Man thought. “Well, this place is my hideout… sort of. As long as I pay rent.” He furrowed his brow. “I’m sure you can find out inside,” he smiled, then began to professionally ignore them again, returning his attention to the other passing attendees.

Team Cronomi headed in. Inside was a fairly regular abandoned theatre, with ratty seats and creaky old floorboards. A long table with coffee services had been set up to one side, with a few heroes making use of it and a box of doughnuts that was already empty. Other heroes were taking off their secondary disguises, revealing their superhero outfits beneath, the cloak room absolutely flooded with trench coats and hoodies. Many were already sitting, drinking their coffees. There were maybe a couple dozen in attendance.

Eventually, the house lights lowered. Not by much, a bulb could have just gone out, but a spotlight fell on the stage. From one side, an angelic figure emerged, complete with white robes, golden-blonde hair, a halo, and wings. He approached the mic, tapped it a few times for silence, and then waited. The chatter continued. He tapped the mic again. No reaction. Anger grew on his features.

“Could I have some quiet, please?” he asked politely. “Some quiet?”

No response.

“I said SHUT IT!” he screamed, his halo briefly becoming horns.

The room fell silent, everyone sat still in their seats. The speaker’s halo returned.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said sweetly. “As always, I am Sanctimony, chairperson of the Guild of Heroes. Now, we have some important business today, but before we get to that we have a few small topics to address.” He produced some notes. “First on the agenda, we have yet again received a request from the Sidekick’s Club to make them an official subdivision of the guild. We’ll again vote by show of hands. All in favour?”

No one moved.

“All opposed?”

Every hand other than Omi and Cron went up.

“Motion denied,” Sanctimony accepted. “Good thing too. Those sidekicks can strike out on their own if they want recognition.”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“Second matter, maintenance. Cleaning around the guild has gotten terribly lax. I hate to call anyone out like this, but if said cleaners don’t get their act together, they will be fired. I believe the cleaners responsible are…” He checked his notes. “The Sidekick’s Club.”

“I guess that explains the state of the toilets,” someone commented.

“Talk about a dirty protest,” said another.

Sanctimony cleared his throat. “Look, everyone, get your sidekicks in order, or else they’re not using this space for their club.”

“Good luck,” someone answered dryly.

“Okay. Now, onto new business,” the angel proceeded. “Today we have some very special news. We have three new members joining the Guild. Our first new member has been in operation less than six months. Allow me to introduce, Judge Me!” he read from a card.

“It’s Judgement!” a loud whisper came from offstage.

“Oh. Sorry. My printer’s not great,” he apologised. “As well as that though, we have two long time members, first time visitors, Omi and Cron, who are sat there in the third row.”

A spotlight came down to show the two heroes. They waved awkwardly until it turned off.

“And now, I’ll welcome our newest member, Judgement, to introduce herself,” Sanctimony bowed out of the way, as a woman emerged from the far edge of the stage.

She had dark skin, slicked-back black hair, and a black and yellow suit with an eye mask. She was muscular, slightly chubby, and couldn’t have been a day out of her teens. She stood before the mic and cleared her throat.

“Thank you, Mr Sanctimony. I may be new to this, but I am happy to be accepted into such a pleasant community,” she said, recalling each word of her speech. “I hope to live up to my own heroes, such as Chorus, Justice Man, and my Mum.” She paused, half-expecting a laugh. None came. “And so, in their honour, I’ll be here to bring… judgement upon the wicked,” she winked, trying out the catchphrase.

The entire room held back a groan, which while unheard, could certainly be felt.

“I look forward to working with you. Thank you,” she finished and left the stage.

Sanctimony applauded, returning to the mic.

“Well, isn’t she a gem,” he said in a twee tone. “And, since she did mentioned Justice Man, we may have a bit of a surprise in-store later,” he teased.

The entire room groaned silently again. Of course Justice Man was going to show up. He always did.

The spotlight returned to Cronomi, and Sanctimony turned to the pair.

“Do the two of you want to share any words of wisdom?”

“No, but thank you for the offer,” Omi avoided, blushing under his mask.

“Do you know where to buy a hideout?” Cron called.

“That… can be discussed later,” Sanctimony dismissed, in a “That isn’t my department” sort of voice. The spotlight turned off.

“Very well. If there isn’t any other pressing business-” He paused, awaiting an interruption. None came. “-then maybe we should open the floor. Or maybe… the ceiling?”

No one moved. Someone coughed.

“I said ‘Open the ceiling’?” the angel said sharply, someone missing their cue. After a hurried whispered argument, and Sanctimony realising it was him, he unsubtly pushed a lever with his foot. A trap door in the ceiling squeaked open.

Three seconds later, Justice Man burst in four feet to the left of the opening. Masonry and wood cascaded down about him.

“Greetings, everyone. I have arrived!” Justice Man proclaimed, wearing his iconic orange and blue suit, his massive build having done a lot of damage. The audience upgraded to an audible groan.

Silently, Sanctimony walked up, gave him a “We will be having words later” glare, handed over some cue cards, and left the stage. His horns reappeared as he grumbled.

Justice Man didn’t notice. He stepped up to the mic and worked his way through the cards.

“Wel…come….ladies and…..gentlemen,” he recited at a speed of one word every couple seconds. “I am the….famous…Justice Ma’am.” He squinted at the card but didn’t correct himself. “I have…come before you…tada…Wait. That says today…. to talk to you about… magic safety.”

In the wings, Sanctimony was talking to Watch Man, a hero with a giant eyeball for a head who provided part of the security for the event. Mainly the watching part.

“What is he doing?” Sanctimony hissed.

“You did say your printer was broken,” Watch Man said, his eye rolling to look at the angel.

“But those cards are hand written.”

“In cursive?”

“Damnit!”

For the next twenty minutes, Justice Man tripped and trudged his way through a five minute speech. He got words wrong, adlibbed a few jokes which didn’t make sense, and then finally declared everyone should eat healthy as a moral for the evening. Cron applauded. The second he was finished, Sanctimony reappeared and hurried him off stage, then returned to the mic.

“Would everyone please adjourn to the communal area,” he sighed.

The communal area was actually a mouldy ballroom, no longer used for dancing. All the heroes funnelled in, some talking business while others just caught up. It was quite the selection, some heavy hitters. They’d already seen Justice Man, but there was also Stealth Watcher, Fist Puncher, Big William, Undead Woman, Heavy Hitter, The Unknowable Helmet and also the mentioned Watch Man. Most were steering clear of Watch Man though, as his single giant eyeball freaked most people out.

“Lots of heroes here,” Cron said, navigating the crowds.

“Yeah. A lot of big names,” Omi admired.

“Well, maybe not big names,” Cron scoffed. “Other than Justice Man, they’re not all that…” He froze, almost dropping his coffee. “Oh. My. God!” he gasped.

“What?”

“It’s Wandering Fist!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger across the party. “He’s, like, my idol.”

“Because he punches things just like you?”

“Yes! Oh, I have got to go and talk to him. Will you be alright on your own?”

Omi rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? Maybe we should find you a hero to talk to. What about Gun Shooter? He hits things from a distance too, doesn’t he?”

Omi scowled. “Look, just go and speak to your obsession. I’ll stay here. I don’t need to talk to some ‘cowboy’ like Gun Shooter.”

“Howdy,” said a voice behind him.

As Cron left, Omi had to restrain a squeal as he turned to the silver cowboy superhero.

* * *

When both Omi and Cron had extricated themselves from their celebrity crushes, mainly by the celebrity hero leaving, they reunited to tell their amazing tales. Cron was clutching a signed headshot like a child would a teddy bear, while Omi had been given a souvenir bullet with Gun Shooter’s name on it. They then tried to remember why they had come, when another hero approached them. It was Judgement.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted. “You’re the two other newbies, right?”

“Yeah. Pleasure to meet you,” Omi said, extending a hand. She shook it firmly. Very firmly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your names. Up on stage, my head was kind of swimming,” she smiled.

“We’re Omi-“

“-And Cron,” they said with practiced synchronicity, striking a pose.

Impressively, Judgement kept a straight face. “That’s… neat. I’m Judgment. A bit obvious, I know, but it works for me. But you two have a cool name. Omicron.”

“Cronomi,” Cron corrected seriously. “Sounds cooler.”

Judgement paused. She opened her mouth to say something. She didn’t.

“So?” she asked instead. “What can you guys do? Powers-wise, I mean.”

“Well,” Cron recovered. “Omi here can throw objects with deadly accuracy.”

“And Cron here can hit like a train with iron fists,” Omi explained.

Judgement nodded. “Oh, so you’re like two halves working together? Complementing each other and such,” she said brightly.

“That we do,” Cron affirmed. “Watch this. Great shoes, Omi.”

“You look great today, Cron,” Omi returned. He winked at Judgement playfully.

“Okay…” she moved on. “It must be interesting, working as a pair.”

“It is,” they said in unison.

 “And how are you at each other’s skills?”

“Terrible,” they said together.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Cron smiled sadly. “Omi can’t land a punch.”

“And Cron throws like a girl… no offence meant,” Omi added.

“None taken,” Judgement smiled in a strained way.

“So, what can you do?” Omi asked politely.

“Oh, me?” Judgement perked up. “Super strength, flight, energy blasts.” She mimed the last one.

“Nice combo,” Cron admired. “Where does all that come from?”

“Oh, my powers just developed when I was young. My Mum hasn’t a clue what happened. Bit of a mystery, honestly. What about you two?”

“We found the Ancient Eye of Tombacoo,” Cron described like he was telling a tale. “The jewel was hidden in a cave in a mountain in China, and the crystal gives us our powers.” He pointed to the gems on their foreheads.

“And how did you find that?”

“We were out spelunking, guided by the hand of fate,” Omi explained.

Judgement nodded sagely. “Ah, yes. Destiny does weave its strange web.”

“No, not destiny. The Hand of Fate,” Cron corrected.

“Huh?” Judgement asked flatly.

“The Hand of Fate,” Cron said slowly.

Omi nudged his partner into silence. “It’s a person, Judgment,” he explained, “He’s magic or something. Mystical.”

“All robes, supernatural aura, floats a few feet off the ground. Can’t miss him,” Cron described.

Omi gave a confirming nod. “He, supposedly, goes around pushing people in the right direction towards their origin stories. Where they should go, directing heroes to poignant moments, sometimes just encouraging the right people to do the right thing at the right time. In our case, he gave us government permits to explore that cave.”

“Really?” Judgement stared. “That’s… weird.”

Omi agreed. “Yeah. No one really knows why. The popular theory is he’s carrying out the whims of fate, like he can see the future or some crap.”

“Personally, I think he’s a nutbar,” Cron stated.

“But he just gives people powers? No reason?” Judgement checked. “I never met him.”

“Few do,” Omi said reverently. “But there’ll be a few heroes in this room who did.”

“You think so?” Judgement looked around, as if she could spot them. She couldn’t. “Weird.”

“So, you fought much crime yet?” Cron changed the subject.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” Judgement nodded. “Mainly thieves and thugs so far. I almost fought a crime boss once, but then the police got involved. No supervillains yet.”

Cron gave her a gentle punch on the arm. “Ah, you’ll get there.”

“Thanks. What about you two? Sanctimony said you’d been members for a while, but this is your first visit? That must mean you’ve been in the game for some time, right?”

“About five or six years, I think,” Cron guessed.

“Seven in the spring,” Omi said more accurately. “We’ve fought a fair few enemies. A few supervillains too.”

“Cool!” Judgement clucked. “So, you two must have an official nemesis by now, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Cron said proudly. “Our nemesis is the vicious Annihilator.”

“That massive robot guy? Wow. That’s impressive,” she admired.

“Actually, that’s why we’re here today,” Omi admitted. “We tried to capture Annihilator, but he escaped and totalled our secret hideout. We were hoping to ask around if anyone knew how to get a new one.”

Judgement lit up. “Oh, I was asking the same thing, new to the business and everything. There’s a stack of cards on the table.” She pointed to the catering.

“Cards?”

“Yeah. Business cards. They’re from that Cosmo Derringer guy. Apparently he drops them off every so often to drum up business. They’re free, first come, first serve.”

Omi and Cron froze, blinking in surprise.

“Wait. The Cosmo Derringer. The real-estate magnate?” Cron exclaimed.

Judgement nodded understandingly. “Yeah, I know. Apparently the rumours about him are true,” she said, sharing in their surprise.

“Apparently,” Omi agreed, equally confused.

* * *

 Cron and Omi crossed the plaza towards Cosmo Tower. Or, more appropriately, Li Shang and Steven Johnson crossed the plaza, as they were in their civilian clothing. They were both just wearing jumpers with jeans, Li in Cron red, Steven in Omi blue.

They crossed the plaza towards the grand Cosmo Tower. It was an imposing sight, the second tallest building in the city after the Pinnacle Building. The tower was faux wood panelled the whole way up, mixing oak with shining glass and gleaming lines of steel. It was a thing to behold, with its golden C.D. logo embossed about ten stories up.

Cosmo Derringer had class, if nothing else.

Everyone knew about Cosmo though. But they knew in the way they would use the word “Allegedly”. He was alleged to have done things, allegedly, and allegations were always being made. But that’s all they were. Allegorical.

Cosmo was rich as Croesus though. He owned half the city’s buildings, and was surprisingly nice. This of course made everyone suspicious. He even kept rent low, which raised the question of how he stayed so rich. No one knew, allegedly.

The rumour went that, bored of usual real estate, he’d turned to the illicit stuff. Not drug labs or murder basements, no, but secret lairs and bases, for heroes and villains alike. Not that anyone could prove it. The man was a vault of secrets, and so were his lawyers. And one alleged thing he was known for, was that those who tried to breach his confidentiality, tended to disappear. But that was just a rumour, allegedly.

Or maybe he really was just a very good businessman. Who could know for sure?

Cosmo Tower was a hive of activity, full of workers, visitors and businessmen, as Omi and Cron entered the lobby.

“I can’t believe the rumours are true,” Cron grumbled, struggling to look inconspicuous.

“I didn’t believe it either. That a success like him would be involved in ‘Special Interest Dealings’,” Omi answered, actually managing to look inconspicuous.

“Special Interest Dealings?”

“Super stuff,” Omi whispered.

The pair had debated if they should arrive in their costumes or civilian clothes. A sign outside put a stop to the debate. It read:

“No identity obscuring clothes of a superhero nature will be permitted in the building. We apologise for any inconvenience.”

Omi and Cron, or Steven and Li, crossed the lobby, the room decorated with more mahogany than they’d ever seen. Black marble floors shone dark and an elegant gold water feature sat near the middle, winged serpents spouting water over each other. There was a help desk to one side, run by a weary, grey haired, hook nosed receptionist. There were also various information screens around the place, putting her out of a job. Omi approached one such screen beside the fountain.

“Hello, and welcome to Cosmo Tower, how can I help you today?” a voice greeted, and a holographic woman appeared. She was generic in appearance, with few significant details, but was dressed in the receptionist uniform.

“Um… hello?” Omi said nervously.

“Are you here for business, the tour, for work, or for another reason? Speak or press the appropriate button on the panel,” she said in a synthetic but charming voice.

“Um… business, I guess.” Omi pushed the button on the screen.

An array of scanner lasers covered the pair, and Cron almost punched the console in alarm.

“Data card detected,” the computer stated. “Please input card so we may better understand your needs.”

“Okay?” Cautiously, Cron slid the Cosmo card into a slot.

“Reading card… You are here for the ‘Discreet Housing Initiative’? Please confirm.”

“Um… confirm?” Omi confirmed.

“Confirmed…” There was a moment of silence as the computer thought. “You’re in luck. There is an opening in the schedule today. Please take your card to the elevator and scan it when prompted. It will take you to the appropriate waiting room. Your maximum wait time will be…” the computer processed, “seventeen minutes.”

Omi and Cron took the card and headed to the elevators. There were five, interiors all brass and wood, with a touch screen where the buttons should be. It read “Scan card now.”

Cron did so, and the lift closed and began to rise. It was smooth and silent with no annoying music, and deposited them on a floor about halfway up the building. A waiting room. There were luxurious comfy seats, another computer terminal, a pool table, and a wide window that showed a glorious view of the park.

“Lush,” Cron whistled.

“Indeed,” Omi agreed.

“Welcome,” the computer woman projected from the terminal.

Cron flinched, raising his fists.

“Cosmo Derringer is in another meeting at the moment. He will be with you shortly. Please avail yourself of food and drink,” she gestured, and a panel opened with plates of food inside.

“No thanks,” Omi said.

“Same here,” Cron agreed, though he looked tempted by a plate of shrimp.

The food bar folded itself away and the computer woman vanished.

Cron turned to his partner. “Are we really sure about this?”

“I don’t think the Guild would share his cards if he was a fraud,” Omi considered.

“True. But do you think we can afford this?”

“I hope so. The card says there’s an offer for first time buyers.”

“What does that mean? It could mean anything.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

“We’re not a charity case,” Cron snipped. “We don’t need that sort of help.”

Omi scowled. “You didn’t complain when the Hand of Fate gave us our powers.”

“We earned our powers,” Cron snapped. “The Hand just pointed us in the right direction.”

“We’d never have found that cave by ourselves.”

“We might have.”

“Okay. We might have,” Omi conceded, not willing to argue further.

They waited a few minutes, until the elevator finally stopped on their floor. Doors opened and there were three figures inside. One was a young, black woman on the cusp of leaving her teens, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. She was slightly chubby with frizzy hair, and for a moment Omi thought she looked familiar. He dismissed it. The second figure was an older woman, clearly the girl’s mother. She was wearing more sensible, more formal clothes, and cooing politely on her daughter’s behalf to the third.

The third figure was a face Cron and Omi had seen before. On billboards and magazine covers. One that was in dozens of newspapers and mentioned in hundreds of articles daily.

“It was a pleasure meeting you both,” Cosmo Derringer said charmingly. “The lift will take you to the lobby and the complete contracts will be with you in a few days,” he smiled.

“Oh, thank you, Mr Derringer,” the mother said, shaking his hand. “What do you say, Judith?” She turned to her daughter.

“Thank you, Mr Derringer,” the younger woman said quietly. It wasn’t shyness. She had clocked Omi and Cron, and seemed anxious talking in front of them. Cosmo clocked her glances, smiled, and then stepped out of the elevator.

“Well, I have some business here, so good luck and enjoy your new property,” he bid them farewell. The elevator closed and the women descended.

Cosmo turned with a warm grin to the two heroes. “Sorry about that. A bit of other business.”

Cosmo Derringer was a tall, thin man wearing a brown suit and a black tie. He was healthy and fresh faced, his body thin from exercise and clean living. His hair was short and brown on the edge of black, but combed within an inch of its life and set with product, while his teeth gleamed white when he smiled. His green eyes shone with genuine excitement, and his latte-tan skin refused to wrinkle as he grinned. He smiled confidently at his latest clients.

“Sorry. Were you waiting long?” he asked, coming over to shake the two heroes’ hands.

“Only a few minutes,” Omi said, releasing the strong handshake.

“Good, good. Did you try the crab puffs? Our chef here is to die for.”

“There were crab puffs?” Cron looked to the closed food panel.

“We’re fine,” Omi said definitely. Cron ignored the puffs and nodded.

“Very well, straight to business,” Cosmo accepted. “You two are here for the ‘Discreet Housing Initiative’, correct?”

“Um…” Omi stopped, suddenly thinking about prying ears. “Oh no, Mr Derringer, we were just enjoying the view,” he said too loudly, shooting Cosmo a wink.

“We… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cron followed along, tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially.

Cosmo’s smile didn’t break. He just raised a hand to stop them.

“Gentlemen, you don’t need to worry. Purchasing a new lair or hideout is stressful enough without having to worry about confidentiality. Your heroes, or villains, I don’t judge, but on my honour, anything said in this tower, stays in this tower. I’ve done business with dozens of supers, good and evil, trust me, your secrets are safe here.”

“And we’ve got your word on that?” Cron judged.

“I can give it to you in writing if you want,” Cosmo joked.

“We do hope that’s true, Mr Derringer,” Omi said nervously. “It’s a lot of faith to put in someone. It’s our secret identities, Mr Derringer.”

“Please, call me Cosmo. And yes, I understand, I do, but we’re not going to make any progress without a little trust. So, what are your names?”

Omi and Cron paused. They looked at each other awkwardly.

Cosmo continued to smile. “Look, I’m going to have to call you something,” he stated. “If nothing else, you’ll need to sign something on the contracts.”

There was a pause as decisions were made. And they were made, by Cron, as he couldn’t see a way around it. He took a deep breath and spoke.

“Fine. I’m Li, and this is Steven,” he said bluntly. “We’re… Cron and Omi.”

“Omi and Cron…” Cosmo tried to recall. His eyes lit up. “Oh! The duo!”

“Yep,” Omi confirmed.

“And you have a cool team name too. Team something.” Cosmo snapped his fingers to remember. “Team… Cronomi!” he exclaimed. “That’s wonderful!”

“You’ve… You’ve heard of us?” Omi said in disbelief.

“And you got our name right,” Cron added.

“Well, I’d be a poor businessman if I didn’t keep an eye on the landscape, and you two have been rocking that landscape. Rivals to Annihilator, two halves of a single perfect warrior, but with the balance of two. Extraordinary. So, you’re in the market for a new hideout?”

“Um… yes? Our previous one is… a bit damaged,” Omi hinted.

“Completely destroyed, huh?” Cosmo understood. “Always sad when that happens. What was it? Warehouse? Industrial building? Garage?”

“An old mining cavern we excavated. It collapsed on us.”

“Imploded might be a better word,” Cron clarified.

“I see,” Cosmo stroked his chin. “I didn’t sell you that cavern, did I?”

“No. We found and dug it out ourselves.”

Cosmo clapped his hands together. “Excellent. That puts you in line for the 10% First Time Discount. It’s quite the savings.” He expanded a toothy grin. It was almost blinding.

“10% off?” Omi considered. “That’s pretty good.”

“Not bad,” Cron agreed. “10% off a fortune is less of a fortune.”

“Oh, you misunderstand, it’s the other way round,” Cosmo explained. “That offer means your purchase will only cost 10% of its asking price. Special offer.”

Omi and Cron stared agape at him.

Cosmo smiled brighter, almost laughing. “I know, I know, it sounds unbelievable, but, to be fair, it is only available for your first purchase. There is a lot of turnover in this business, so I get paid properly with the repeat gigs.”

“I… suppose that’s true,” Omi recovered first, appreciating his honesty.

“I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Cron accepted. “Even if maybe I should.”

Cosmo eyed him keenly. “A sceptical mind, Mr Cron. I appreciate that. But sceptical or not, we have business. With me, fellas.” He led them back to the elevator.

All three bundled into the lift, though there was still tons of room. Cosmo swiped the panel with a card and they began to descend towards the 26th floor.

“What’s on Floor 26?” Cron asked.

“Something special,” Cosmo preened. “You see, I used to meet clients at the sites, touring them around their lairs personally. But, as you can imagine, it was a challenge maintaining security, not getting spotted, syncing schedules with supers. And the number of times I almost got caught wasn’t funny. So, to avoid such troubles, I had my boys install a hologram suite right here in my tower, to remotely show people what they’ll be paying for.”

“Oooh, what kind of holograms? Hard light or regular light?” Omi asked interestedly.

“Somewhere in-between.” Cosmo shook a hand ambiguously. “You’ll be able to touch and experience the properties, but if you push too hard you may slip through.”

“Interesting,“ Cron said, stroking his chin too look like he understood. “And say, were you down here with those two women from before? One of them looked familiar.”

Cosmo caught him with a smirk. “Sorry, fellas, but I don’t reveal client information. I won’t even tell you what kind of business they were here for, special interest or otherwise. You wouldn’t want me telling the next customers about you, would you?”

“Right answer,” Cron approved, as the doors opened onto Floor 26.

Floor 26 contained a single, simple room. Incredibly simple. There was no furniture or features or anything, besides a black pedestal at the centre with a tablet placed on top. The walls and floor were a shiny obsidian, with blue lights along the seams of the floor and ceiling. As they stepped out and the lift closed, they were enshrouded on all sides by the strange technological blackness.

Cosmo however was undoubtedly in his element. He strode over and picked up the tablet, and with a few finger flicks, the walls sparkled to life.

“I think I know just the thing for you two,” he said.

The sparkling in the walls became a glowing array of lights. The beams met and overlapped, forming shapes and layers. Within seconds, the room changed shape and began to take form. It became a large apartment, half house and half dojo, with thick hessian mats, Japanese sliding doors, training dummies, couches, and black-glass windows. There were even potted plants in the corners.

“So, what do you think?” Cosmo asked.

“Wow,” Omi gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a nice training area,” Cron admitted.

“What? Oh, right. Yeah, it’s a nice apartment,” Omi realised, having been admiring the hologram tech.

“Situated in uptown, this hideout is discretely hidden in a high rise building,” Cosmo presented. “Placed in a key city location, it has easy access to main roads and thoroughfares. Do the two of you have vehicles?”

“Two bikes. They’re pretty multipurpose,” said Cron.

“Well, this place has underground docking bays suitable for all vehicles, as well as secret elevator shafts to discretely get to and fro. Soundproof, bulletproof, you’ll be able to slip in and out and train to your heart’s content.”

“Any bedrooms?”

“Two, with on-suite facilities and also a separate guest bathroom. And, in case of repairs, the landlord can be counted on for absolute discretion.”

Cron whistled at the room, nodding in approval. Then he turned to look at Omi, who looked less than thrilled. Not unhappy. Just contemplative. Cron understood.

“Any scientific facilities?” he asked for him.

“Oh, is one of you a scientist?” Cosmo said brightly, already appreciating his mistake.

“Me.” Omi raised a hand meekly.

“I see. One’s the brains, the other the brawn. A perfect team,” Cosmo admired.

“It’s just, there doesn’t seem to be much room for him to do his work,” Cron explained. “It’s all fighting, no thinking, you know?”

“No, no, I understand completely.” Cosmo smiled, raising a hand to stop any worries. “This was just a first pass. I’d have been amazed if I’d got the sale on the first try. You want something more scientific? I think I have just the place.”

With a press of a button, the image around them changed. It became something of a modest apartment, with a lab set up to one side. Neat and tidy, it was all black worktops and laminate floors.

“This one’s roomy, you could set up a gym as and where you like,” Cosmo suggested, “and with both lab and casual facilities, it should be the perfect home away from home, for fighting crime. And it’s certainly secure.”

“Where is it?” Omi asked.

“I can’t tell you until the paperwork is signed. It’s that secure. It’s a special location, which I’ll have to move if its discovered,” Cosmo explained. “But, it is near the coast, sea air and accessible by boat, and ready for anything-”

“Are we in the Ferris wheel at Super Land?” Cron interrupted, peering out a simulated window.

“Uhhh…”

“Yeah, I can see the big Justice Man coaster. And the Stealth Watcher themed swing ride. Oh! And there’s the Wandering Fist teacups ride! When are we going to get our own ride, Omi?”

“I think we’ve seen enough of that one,” Cosmo said, pressing a button, and typing a note to remember to close the windows next time. “So, next…”

The image changed and they were standing in a metal space. Dark and slightly damp, there were computer consoles, a few chairs, and some very wet looking rugs. They seemed to be in the control room of a large vehicle, the light outside filtering in through dark water.

“A sub?” Omi guessed.

“Not just any sub. This one’s unique. I got it in trade from a supervillain, their underwater base. It’s an Intellitron original, with all the fittings. Beds in the back, science facilities, full weapon capabilities, and space for your bikes too.”

“It’s certainly… spacious,” Omi admired.

Cron shook his head. “The feng shui is bad.”

“Fen shui?” Cosmo curled an eyebrow. “Are you an expert?”

“I don’t like to brag,” Cron theatrically brushed his nose.

“An interesting skill,” the salesman inspected him. “Did you learn that back in your homeland?”

“What? Chicago? No.”

“I… um… ” Cosmo stopped himself. He shut up.

“He learned it from a bloody magazine,” Omi hissed. “Has no clue what he’s talking about.”

“The feng shui’s not right,” Cron insisted.

“Oh, just move on. He’s like a dog with a bone when he gets an opinion like this,” Omi groaned.

“Moving on,” Cosmo concurred. “I’ve got plenty more. Give me your gut reactions.”

A button press and they were in some kind of ice cave.

“Formerly owned by Winter Lord, I hear it’s lovely in the summer. Air conditioned.”

“Nope. Too cold,” Omi shivered despite the hologram.

“He’s a menace with the thermostat,” Cron grumbled.

They moved on. In a moment they were surrounded by lava.

“Formerly owned by The Torch, this magma cave doesn’t require any central heating. And, it has built in security, intruders falling into lava,” Cosmo offered.

“I can’t work out in heat,” Cron dismissed.

“Hero City must have interesting geology to have ice caves and lava,” Omi added. “Also, I’m pretty sure we’d melt.”

“Next.”

They were in a not massive empty room. The ceiling was slanted on either side, so they were in a roof.

“A loft residence in the warehouse district? Incredibly low rent and a scenic view?” Cosmo gestured to a skylight.

“It’s very… open plan,” Omi said politically.

“I don’t see a light? Does it even get electricity?”

“It’s a fixer upper,” the realtor smiled.

He moved on.

Next, they were surrounded by crystals. Everywhere.

“Oooh, a crystal fortress. I’ve heard of these,” said Cron.

“Yeah, but can you imagine the cost,” Omi countered. “We can’t afford something like this. And this can’t be in the city. Imagine the commute!”

Cosmo pressed on. They were now in a house.

“Secret lab behind a bookcase in a suburban home?” he offered.

“Would we own the house?” Cron asked.

“No.”

“Next.”

They were suddenly surrounded by dizzying lights and colours. If they looked closely, they could see glass walls beyond.

“A pocket dimension inside a glass bottle?”

“No,” Omi said, trying not to throw up from the lights.

“What happens if you take the bottle inside the pocket dimension inside the bottle?” Cron asked curiously.

“Just don’t,” Cosmo warned. “Just don’t.”

The image changed.

“Cave full of bats?”

Cron and Omi just stared at him.

“…No,” Cron said obviously.

“Oh my god, so much guano,” Omi retched.

“Moving on.”

Cosmo pressed buttons. They appeared in a cavernous chamber with metal walls and water running into a large vat. A walkway ran around the middle, ladders stretching between  levels. The three of them stood, overlooking everything.

“Is this a sewer?” Cron blurted.

“Hear me out. I assure you it’s as clean as can be imagined,” Cosmo intercepted. “Located near midtown with access across the city via abandoned, unused sewer tunnels, all tunnels put in by me, that don’t connect to anything else.”

As if in argument, a boot floated past into the water tank.

“-Though public works might change that,” Cosmo admitted. “Vast space, easily customisable. Not a luxury apartment, but bedrooms and other living facilities can be installed. And, once your technology has been retrieved, you’ll never want for cooling systems again.”

The water bubbled pointedly as gas escaped somewhere.

“No, Mr Derringer,” Cron said flatly, “you can talk it up all you want, but this is a sewer. We might not be able to smell it in this hologram, but I can imagine it. I can imagine it vividly.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Omi agreed. “And now you’re two in a row on shit smells.”

 “Okay, okay,” Cosmo laughed. “I’m not surprised. We’ve held onto this one for quite a while already. It’s a difficult sell-”

“I couldn’t guess why.”

“-but next, I have something I think you’ll really like.”

“So you were showing us stuff you knew we wouldn’t like?” Cron noted.

“Well, I’ve got to try and sell the duds,” Cosmo shrugged.

The image changed and they found themselves in a wide open space with a long, straight road running down the middle. The roof was bowed like a modular military building, all grey and simple, and with no furniture. There was just a large hanger door at one end and a small door at the other.

“While perhaps not our most beautiful property, this should be perfect for your needs. An old abandoned airfield, underground, located downtown, it was buried generations ago, the city built on top of it. Secret entrances in three locations, all activated by remote control, with full bed and bath facilities in the back. It was originally a secret testing facility, but personally I can see it as a lab, a training dojo, and perhaps even a lounge area. A truly customisable space. It’s certainly spacious enough to accommodate any and all needs. And, the best part, there’s room for expansion, if you ever decide to invest in larger vehicles.”

Cosmo held out his arms to emphasise the space. His voice echoed as if they were really there, not in a small room in Cosmo Tower.

Omi and Cron looked around, their minds whirring. They could see it. Cron could imagine a dojo, dummies in one corner, maybe a garage for their bikes. Omi could envision a lab with all his equipment, and, importantly, a large seating area where they could relax. Maybe even bring the boyfriends round. They both turned to each other, communicating with eyes alone what they thought.

“It’s perfect,” they said in complete unison.

“I knew you’d like it,” Cosmo smiled broadly.

“Can the hologram show us the bedrooms?”

“Of course.” Cosmo pressed a couple of buttons.

Like they were on a conveyer belt, they moved across the room and ghosted through the door. The bunks were standard military fare, but there were two rooms, each quite large and each with their own on-suite bathroom, obviously retrofitted for display.

“What do you think?” Cosmo asked.

“Certainly could use a lick of paint, but I’m not complaining,” Cron said, already planning how to decorate his room. “And the feng shui is on point!”

Omi rolled his eyes. “I love it too,” he said.

They shared one last look. “We’ll take it,” they said in perfect harmony.

“Alright then,” Cosmo beamed. He pressed buttons and the hologram dissolved back into the little black chamber. Cosmo guided them back to the lift. “I know you two are enthusiastic, but let’s not settle until we’ve discussed price. I recommend we go to my office for that.”

“Of course, of course,” Omi agreed, coming back to reality a little. He’d been imagining how to tile the bathrooms.

The trio returned to the lift, swept back up the building, and stepped out into Cosmo’s penthouse office. It was a single massive room with windows on three sides, though they were all one way glass. A red carpet led from the elevators up to Cosmo’s desk, made from more mahogany, with golden detailing and Cosmo’s C.D. logo across the front. Cosmo glided across the room to his desktop, hitting an intercom button.

“Nancy, could you send up the contracts for Property 619?” he asked politely.

“Yes, Mr Derringer,” the voice of the computer terminals downstairs replied.

“You call your computer Nancy?” Cron wondered.

“It’s simpler than some clever acronym,” Cosmo sighed.

“And this is all secure?” worried Omi.

“Trust me, gentlemen, nothing could be more so. All files are stored in a secure lockbox. No employees are even aware it exists. I alone can access it, and even then only through Nancy. They are for my eyes only and purely for record keeping.”

“We can only hope,” Cron doubted.

A slot opened and a metal box emerged, popping like toast. Omi jumped at the suddenness. Cosmo took it, opened it, and looked at the file.

“Here we go. We can work out mortgage rates later, but the overall price should be this.” He scribbled down a number on a bit of paper. The heroes looked at it and their eyes went wide.

“Seriously?” Omi said.

“And this is with the discount?” Cron gasped in shock.

“Oh, apologies,” Cosmo said hurriedly, and took the paper. He crossed out a zero. Omi and Cron’s eyes went wider.

“But it’s so low?” Cron said, slightly alarmed.

“Even without the discount, that’s well within our price range,” Omi added. “What’s the catch? There has to be a catch,” he rambled, his joy punctured by sudden paranoia.

“Other than maybe a little mould damage in the rafters, there isn’t one,” Cosmo answered.

“But… why?” Cron said, struggling to form words.

“Why what?”

“Why sell us something like this? Why sell super lairs at all? Why do this sort of thing?”

Cosmo stopped and thought for a moment. He put his hands together, steepling his fingers, considering his answer. Finally, with a readying nod, he responded.

“I sell and buy secret lairs for the same reason many people let me continue. My work instils a little order into what was a chaotic business. Villains who find a hiding place, set up shop, and then six months later another villain finds the same place and a turf war breaks out. Heroes getting into arguments over who owned which clock tower. It was madness. I provide management to it all. Less overlap. Less conflict. And, I get to make a tidy profit. It’s as simple as that.”

“Huh,” Cron thought for a moment. “I guess it is,” he accepted.

“Now, I have the contract right here, if you’d like to sign,” Cosmo returned to his beaming salesman nature. “We can discuss payment later. I’d recommend signing with your civilian names. The address isn’t specifically listed so there’ll be nothing to connect you. The contracts are mostly boiler plate anyway, but do feel free to read them.”

“And when do we gain access to the hideout?” Omi queried.

“As soon as the contracts are signed. Failure to pay will result in repossession, of course, but there’s no dangers to your identities either way, even if you stiff me. I know Cron here was thinking it,” he smiled.

“Can’t say I wasn’t.”

Cosmo produced the contracts, which were promptly signed. He then handed over another box, this one containing two devices that looked like garage door openers.

“Here are your keys.” Cosmo handed them over. “They’ll open the doors to your lair in a radius of 50 feet. And this will lead you to the lair’s location.” He handed over a GPS.

“Thank you, Mr Derringer,” Omi said, almost in disbelief.

“It really is appreciated,” Cron agreed, polite as a stone.

“Think nothing of it, gentlemen. It’s only business,” Cosmo smiled like a wolf. “Now, if that will be all, I’ll bid you a good day.”

“Thanks again, Mr Derringer,” Cron repeated, shaking his hand, and then both him and Omi headed for the lift.

Outside the building, Steve and Li walked back across the plaza.

“Wow,” Cron said in disbelief. “Who’d have thought it?”

“Yeah,” Omi agreed as they headed home. “Something so rare and amazing in our city?”

Cron quirked an eyebrow. “What? A man who sells super lairs?”

Omi shook his head. “No. An honest real-estate agent.”

* * *

A couple of days later, Omi and Cron headed to the coordinates in full hero gear. The door opener opened a secret entrance beside a disused garage, revealing a long sloping tunnel down. They descended, riding their bikes in.

The hangar was just as it was in the hologram. Large, grey, but now with added mustiness. Derringer hadn’t lied about the mould, but it was nothing they couldn’t fix.

What they hadn’t expected was their stuff to already be there.

Computer banks from The Bunker, a large screen already installed into a wall, the platform for their bikes positioned in a corner. Training dummies, lab equipment, small bits of memorabilia. Even the sofas and chairs had been installed. It was all there, right in the places Omi and Cron would have put them.

“Blimey, he works fast,” Cron said in shock.

“How did he even move all this stuff?” Omi wondered.

“Well, Nancy did most of it,” Cosmo answered behind them.

“AHH!” Omi and Cron almost jumped out of their skins. Cron raised fists while Omi held a screwdriver, ready to throw.

Cosmo laughed. “Apologies, gentlemen, I just wanted to stop by and drop off your contracts. I still have the code for your door openers, so I let myself in. But feel free to change those codes,” he said casually, producing two contracts.

“Will do,” Omi affirmed nervously, putting the screwdriver down and taking his contract.

“Also, very nice outfits,” Cosmo continued, admiring their suits. “I’ve never seen them up close before. The red, blue and silver works well. Striking. I especially love the jewels on your foreheads. I suppose those are the source of your powers?” he guessed.

“Yep, they are,” Cron confirmed.

“And how did you come about such a find?”

“Hand of Fate,” they answered in unison.

“Ah. That one,” Cosmo understood. “From my understanding, he’s responsible for a lot of my business.”

“Have you done business with him yourself?”

“Cron, you know I can’t answer that,” Cosmo reprimanded playfully.

“Thought I’d take a chance,” he shrugged.

“Mr Derringer,” Omi raised his voice. “How did you get all our stuff here? Most of it was buried,” he asked.

“As I said, Nancy did it. Our science division has a few drones for her to pilot. I use them for more clandestine arrangements, to avoid alerting my workers. It was quite the excavation though.” He nodded at some of the consoles, which were still strewn with rock dust.

“We didn’t even tell you where it was…” Omi whispered.

“Thank you so much, Mr Derringer,” Cron said brashly, slapping Cosmo on the back.

“It’s quite alright,” Cosmo said, trying not to get winded.

The conversation was interrupted as a computer sparked to life, a siren blaring.

“Huh. You installed that too,” Omi considered, heading over.

“THREAT DETECTED. ANNIHILATOR AT LARGE,” the computer announced.

“Well, looks like it’s time for some payback,” Cron grinned, cracking his knuckles.

“Then I’ll leave you boys to it,” Cosmo dismissed himself. “I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks, Mr Derringer,” Cron said again, but by the time either of them looked, Cosmo was gone.

“How does he do that?” Omi wondered.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ve got a rust bucket to break.”

* * *

A couple of hours later, Annihilator was lying in the rubble of a collapsed warehouse in the middle of the warehouse district. Pursued by Omi and Cron, he’d made the significant miscalculation of luring them back to his own secret lair. The pair had taken considerable pleasure collapsing the warehouse around him.

Now, he lay in the rubble, and activated the communicator in his head.

“Cosmo Derringer’s office. How may I direct your call?” chirped the receptionist.

“DISCREET HOUSING INITIATIVE PLEASE,” Annihilator whirred.

“Putting you through now, sir.”

There was a moment of hold music before the phone clicked back in.

“This is Cosmo. Who’s calling?”

“ANNIHILATOR.”

“Oh, hello there,” Cosmo buzzed. “Long time no see, big guy. What can I do you for?”

“I REQUIRE A NEW LAIR. MY PREVIOUS ONE WAS DAMAGED.”

“Completely destroyed, huh?” Cosmo said sympathetically. “Alright, big fella. I’ve got a free slot on Thursday if you can meet me at the Villain’s Bureau. Avoids you turning up at the tower.”

“AFFIRMATIVE. SEE YOU THEN.”

Annihilator hung up. He groaned amongst the rubble. He hated house hunting.

* * *

Cosmo hung up his phone and returned to his desk.

“Nancy? Do I have any other meetings today?”

“No, Mr Derringer,” the computer answered.

“And my first meeting tomorrow?”

“You have a meeting with Mr Intellitron concerning his new lair. Volcanic island resort.”

“Ah, yes. Teething problems I assume. Order a bottle of wine, would you? I need to thank him for that submarine. It will pay dividends when it finally sells.”

“Confirmed.”

“After that, can you give me some privacy? I’ll push the button if I need you.”

“Confirmed.”

A small blue light in the ceiling switched off.

Cosmo walked up to the window and stared down at the city below. Blank faced, his eyes locked onto a small collection of buildings. A set he knew had an abandoned airfield beneath them.

He smiled.

“It’s always fascinating to see what people do with what I’ve given them,” he said, looking out over the skyline. “Here’s to you, Hero City.”

Final Retreat

Lucy lay on the bonnet of her car, parked down a backstreet, adjacent to nothing and an empty alley, and was now waiting for something to happen.

She had to admit, this was not how she’d expected the end of the world to go.

Only a day ago, Dark Dragon had managed to steal the Sword of Songs, a powerful artefact belonging to the hero Chorus. The sword supposedly turned a person’s inner strength into outer strength… broadly speaking anyway, and now Dark Dragon had it. The demonic knight with the terrifying willpower to pursue a ceaseless war against the forces of good for thousands of years.

Needless to say, it didn’t look great. But last anyone saw of the monster, he’d ejected his human host, Cosmo Derringer, turned into an actual dragon, and swooped off across the city. And now the monster had fortified himself inside Cosmo Tower.

Lucy glanced in the tower’s direction, but didn’t struggle to spot it. Cosmo Tower was already the second tallest building in the city, and now was surrounded by a terrible wall of infernal fire. The flames were as solid as stone, able to resist tank shells, and completely concealed the building in their chaos so there wasn’t even a chance of spying on him.

Worse still, reports had been coming in of supervillains moving towards the tower. Dark Dragon had put out the call, and most had obeyed, mainly out of fear. He was building an army of supervillains to crush the city. Meanwhile, Lucy was lying on her car and waiting.

But it could be worse. Her companion could be talking.

She glared across at the man waiting with her. His name, if it could be called a name, was Henchman 14, one of Intellitron’s lackeys. She’d dealt with him before, and likely arrested him too, but for some reason he’d been working with Judgement and Cosmo to retrieve the sword before all hell broke loose. And so he was here, waiting.

Cosmo was currently in a cell back at the station, likely striking some deal. She’d have to head back to deal with that eventually. But at least interrogating that creep was something to look forward to. Judgement, meanwhile, was at the Guild of Heroes, making plans. Which just left her and the henchman. She returned her unhappy focus to her guest.

14, for it was the only name anyone called him, was an unremarkable looking man. Remarkably unremarkable. He had vague features that shifted with his expression, his skin tone was middling, somewhere between well-tanned Caucasian and mild Indian, and even his hair, flecked with grey, varied between blonde and brunette depending on the lighting. His appearance was simply… generic. The only thing definite was his age, with him looking to be in his mid-forties.

About the same age as Lucy, actually. So she at least couldn’t make a crack about that.

However, scrutinising him was only passing the time. She was bored and anxious, and also angry. This was her city, and if she wasn’t the level headed woman she was, she would have gone and slapped the cuffs on Dark Dragon herself. But she couldn’t. That would get her killed. So she had to sit here, fed up, uneasy, and furious.

Finally, the boredom became too much.

“Urgh, what is taking them so long?” she complained.

“Heroes always take their time. It doesn’t matter what they’re doing. Voting or pontificating, it always takes bloody ages,” 14 answered, pacing back towards her.

“You’d certainly know, henchman,” she said venomously. “I just wish I didn’t have to wait so far away. Bloody secret Guild location.” Her eyes narrowed at her companion. “I think they’re only doing this because of you, you know. They don’t trust an evil henchman to know the location of their guild.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t see them telling you either, detective,” he countered calmly. “Then again, this is an emergency. I wouldn’t be too surprised if they let you in.”

“But they haven’t, because of you,” Lucy said in a barbed tone. 14 just shrugged.

Lucy scowled. She was bored and didn’t like him. She didn’t like how he was a toady to a former supervillain. She didn’t like how she was forced to do this rather than saving her city. And most of all, she didn’t like how he didn’t get angry. He just took it and smiled at her in that knowing way. Like he knew her. There was understanding in those eyes, and honestly, it was infuriating! He simply wouldn’t budge.

She’d just have to try harder.

“So, what’s it like being a bootlicker to Intellitron? Do you miss the days of rampaging and destroying the city?”

“Sometimes. There was a certain fun to it, but I don’t miss getting punched in the face,” he said honestly, rubbing his cheek at the memory.

“You miss hurting people?”

“I only ever shot at supers. I would have thought you’d appreciate that, Detective Washburn.”

“What would you know about me?” she snipped.

“It’s not difficult to work out,” he said. “Even if you didn’t have a bit of a reputation, then the way you reacted when the heroes ran off without you was eye opening. I think I heard you shout the word ‘Vigilante’ before they left?”

“Hey! I’m trying to save this city from a monster. They are refusing to let me help. And on top of it all, I can’t even know where their guild is, because of you. I’d bet you’d kill just to find that out, wouldn’t you?” she hissed.

“I already know where the guild is.”

“Sure you… Wait, what?” Lucy stopped.

“I already know where the guild is. All supervillains do. It’s in an old rotten theatre about a block from here. The Masked Lady Theatre.” He pointed vaguely.

Lucy blinked for a moment. “All supervillains know? Even Intellitron?”

“Yeah. I mean, it isn’t exactly hard to find. Once a month dozens of people in traditionally inconspicuous attire, which on mass makes it very conspicuous, all pile into a theatre somewhere in the city. You don’t exactly need a spy network to find it.”

“Then why the hell is it still standing?” Lucy queried dryly.

“You mean why has no supervillain ever attacked it?” 14 clarified. “Because they’re not suicidal, Detective Washburn. It’s just one of those unwritten rules, you know? You don’t attack the Hall of Heroes. It’s a sacred place of nobility. Also, it’s a really terrible idea.”

“How so?”

14 took a moment to order his words. “Alright, say you blew up the place. Boom. Best case, you just destroyed the building and the heroes move elsewhere. You don’t really gain anything, and you just lost the advantage knowing where their base is. Right?”

Lucy nodded, still interrogating him with her eyes.

“Right,” he continued. “But what if you blow up the place and there’s someone inside? You actually kill one of them? Then, all the heroes band together, march on your door, and if you’re lucky, they just send you to prison. But given they’ll be angry, that’s a fight where they send you lower than prison. So we just leave the damn place alone,” he finished.

“I… guess that makes sense,” Lucy considered.

“Also, it’s funny imagining them in there. Inside that rotten theatre, with the mould in the seats, rats in the walls, and the terrible plumbing. Serves them right, the pompous windbags.”

Lucy gave a small grunt of a laugh, but tried to play it off as a cough. She turned her scrutinising eye back on 14.

“Alright, I have to ask. What is your deal?” she asked levelly.

“My deal?”

“You’re some henchman for a former supervillain, and you still work for Madame Mechanism occasionally, or so I hear. Why though? Where the hell does a guy like you come from?”

“What? You want my origin story or something?”

“If you like. Hell, you’ve got me curious. Who are you, Henchman 14?”

14 shrugged. “What is there to say? Grew up in the city. Started out as a grunt, then a thug, then a henchman. Now I work for Intellitron. Better him than one of those caped crusaders… or some rich businessman,” he shuddered.

Lucy smiled smugly. “Nope. There’s more to you. Come on, tell me. I’m genuinely curious. Tell me the legend of Henchman 14. I mean, what even is your real name?”

“It’s Ed.”

“Oh,” Lucy stopped in surprise. “I was expecting more of a fight there.”

“No one ever asks… not that they care,” 14 said acceptingly. “You really want to know?”

“Strangely, I think I do.” She patted the bonnet beside her.

“Alright,” he accepted, carefully hopping onto the bonnet. “Well, as I said, I was born in Hero City, raised in one of the lower boroughs, on a block that likely isn’t there anymore. The sort that when it fell down, they just didn’t bother rebuilding it. My parents were well off, or at least well enough. We were comfortable. Mum was a housewife. Dad had a nice-ish car. I don’t remember what he did, because, when I was 10, me, Mum and Dad went out to the pictures, and on the way home, for some inexplicable reason, Dad decided to take a shortcut through Murder Alley. You ever hear about Murder Alley?”

“It’s somewhere downtown, right?”

“Yep. It likely isn’t there anymore either. Anyway, we’re on our way through, a mugger jumps us, shoots both of them dead, and I’m left an orphan. Now, I didn’t have a fancy butler, or any rich relatives, so I got put into foster care. They even gave me counselling, to help me with my grief. Nice people.”

“Well, that’s… good,” she contributed, unnerved by how relaxed he was.

“Better that than fighting crime in vengeance, right? Anyway, I lived in the same foster home for a while, and at age nineteen they kicked me out. No one wanted to adopt me. Can you imagine?” he said playfully.

“Was there a specific reason?”

“I think I was a bit grim back then. Not many parents want the teen standing alone at the back wearing black eyeliner. Anyway, at nineteen they kicked me out, gave me a cheap flat with rent to pay, and I had to go out and find a job. However, having grown up in such a hrm lively area, by the time I got out one of the local gangs had already recruited me. It wasn’t like the foster home was going to pay for college, so the gangs snatched me up.”

“They do like to get them while they’re young,” Lucy concurred.

“Exactly. Wound up working for Elinor Tramridge. Served under her two boys. They were good lads… Well, good in the sense you could play cards with them, though if Elinor ordered it, they’d rip your arms off with all the indifference of a factory worker.” A nostalgic grin overtook his face. “Geez, she could only have been in charge for a few years at that point, after her first husband died in mysterious circumstances.” He chuckled. “Well, I say mysterious. It was only a mystery how many knives she used.”

“And that was back when you were a grunt?”

“Yep,” 14 nodded. “I only moved up to thug when Battering Sam got involved.”

“The supervillain Battering Sam?”

“Yep, Elinor’s second husband. When they broke up, he got half their foot soldiers in the divorce, so I was forced into supervillainy. I didn’t stay with him long though. He provided free dental, but you kind of needed it, because he’d frequently knock your teeth out. I left after about two months. But, I had my foot in the door, and entered into the world of henchman work.”

“For Intellitron?”

“Not to start with, no. After Battering Sam, I worked for a few other villains. Worked under Bank Breaker for a few months, but the man was sooooooo dull. Worked with Winter Lord for six months, but I ended up spending as much on winter clothes as I was getting paid.”

“Ever work for Dark Dragon?” Lucy checked, an air of threat in the question.

“No, I’ve never been part of the Apocalypto Cult, not that they didn’t try to recruit me. But the flier was all ‘We will unleash hell upon the world’, so I wasn’t particularly interested.”

“Makes sense. But you were interested to start henching with Intellitron? Why?”

“Funnily enough, I actually did it to get out of the henchman game,” 14 smiled. “I was tired of getting punched by superheroes, and Intellitron was looking for lab assistants. I might not have had an education, but I could carry chemicals. All I needed to know was what I shouldn’t shake. It was nice. But then,” he sighed, “then the heroes started targeting Intellitron’s labs. He started arming his scientists and I was a decent shot with a laser rifle. Soon enough, I’m right back to carrying this, shooting that, etcetera. Then, I got called up to the big leagues. Intellitron’s twenty personal henchmen. Which is important! A big day, a bigger responsibility, and a true sign that the boss had seen my skills. Or so I thought. In truth my name was picked from a hat after the previous 14 died.”

“And you’ve been his henchman ever since?”

“Yes, ma’am. Back to getting punched by heroes, getting arrested, breaking out, and then doing it all over again. Until Intellitron retired, of course. That was a nice change, running the resort, nice weather and simple work, though the face punching didn’t exactly drop to zero. We still get visits from Justice Man...”

“That’s… quite the story,” Lucy processed. “I’ve got to ask then. Why did you stay with Intellitron for so long? I mean, if I was getting bones broken and arrested, I would have moved on a long time ago. But that’s me.”

14 stopped to think. Then he thought a little longer.

“Because…” he said finally, “Because I saw that something was wrong. I’d been on the wrong side of the tracks my whole life, all because I didn’t have the education, the background, the breeding. The world was unfair, but Intellitron wanted to change that. Sure, he wanted to put himself in charge and vaporise anyone who disagreed, but he wanted reform. He wanted to smash the system, to change how things were done, to provide free healthcare, to rule the world! Something had to be done and Intellitron was trying. The heroes try, but they can’t fix a system they’re part of. Intellitron wanted to knock it down and rebuild it from the ground up. And I wanted to be a part of that. To… save the world, in a way.”

“Huh… But you even stayed after he retired?”

“Well, I was older by then. I saw how flawed his plan was, and so did Intellitron. But the work paid, and who else was going to hire me? Plus, I respected the guy. He’d gone legit, not easy, and found a way to help people without taking over the world first. He knew he could just make people happy. That, and he brought us all over with full medical. I couldn’t afford to say no. So yeah, that’s my story, Detective Washburn,” he finished with a smile.

Lucy looked at him, her gaze scrutinising again.

“You’re an odd one, Henchman 14.”

“I don’t think even Intellitron knows half of what I just told you.”

“I’m honoured,” she said sarcastically.

He looked at her in that knowing way again and laughed. “You should be, detective. But enough about me. What about you? What’s your story?”

“Nothing to tell. Parents loved heroes, so by the inverse law of generations, I hated them. But I wanted to fight crime, so I became a cop. Now I have a legitimate reason to hate those caped weirdos. Done,” she stated. “See, that’s how to tell a life story in under fifty words.”

14 chuckled. “I should look into that.”

“And I should hope those heroes don’t take much longer. I’ve got to head back soon and interrogate Cosmo Derringer. We’ve even got magic handcuffs so he can’t escape.”

“I hope you break him,” 14 said with a dark glee, before recollection crossed his face. “Speaking of breaking cases, did you ever find out who killed Jack? I heard it was…”

“Dark Dragon, yes. Thanks for looking into that for me, even if you didn’t find anything.”

“No problem. Did you ever work out those weird numbers whoever kept sending you?”

“Conspiracy Jeff.”

“Ah,” 14 realised. “His radio station. Should have recognised it.”

“Yeah, it took me a while too. I should thank him though, when I get the chance. He gave me everything I’d need to take Cosmo down.”

“A good man, that one… beneath all the crazy.”

Lucy tutted. “Who would notice crazy in this city, with the caped lunatics flying around?”

* * *

The inside of the Hall of Heroes was, understandably, in turmoil.

Heroes shouting in their seats, people panicking and scared, and Sanctimony on stage trying to reign it all in. He was currently failing.

“We don’t have time for this,” he grumbled, and rather than the usual rigmarole of requesting silence, he just fired a divine energy bolt into the ceiling.

Everyone fell quiet.

“Alright everyone, this is a desperate situation!” he began, ignoring the falling ceiling dust. “Dark Dragon has the Sword of Songs, and according to Justice Man and Stealth Watcher, that means he’s practically invincible now. So, do we have any plans?”

There was a silent murmur.

“Die with dignity?” someone yelled.

Sanctimony grit his teeth. “…We’ll keep that in the back pocket.”

“Step one, we need to get the sword back,” Stealth Watcher strategized, stepping out of the shadows. “Unfortunately, we can’t get close enough to the tower to do that.”

“We need to break through Dark Dragon’s defences first,” Judgement input from the crowd. “That fire around the tower seems impenetrable, but if we could hit it hard enough…”

“The main issue is getting to the building,” Omi countered, a few rows ahead of Judgement. “Every cultist in the city is surrounding that tower, keeping people away.”

“Nah, the cultists are nothing,” Cron dismissed, putting his feet up beside Omi. “I’m more worried about the supervillains he’s got inside.”

“And if we get through all that, we’ll need to fight Dark Dragon,” Justice Man pointed out from the front row.

The entire hall fell silent again.

“Look, those aren’t plans, those are problems,” Sanctimony said testily. “The villains won’t be a problem anyhow. We’ve been informed they’re just being used to run the machinery.”

“And how do we know this?” someone in the crowd asked.

“Judgement has a source inside the tower, whose identity she refuses to disclose.”

Judgement stood from her seat. “I recently got a text. Dark Dragon has already summoned a few demons to his cause… so add those to the list.”

“May I make a suggestion?” a voice called from near the front. While the tone was sly and intelligent, the speaker wasn’t visible. It was coming from a phone positioned on Sanctimony’s podium.

“Ah, Mr Intellitron, finally with us. Go ahead?” Sanctimony prompted.

“Yes. Dark Dragon is a monster, but he’s a monster with a code. I reckon if you can get a hero up there to fight him one on one, he’ll face them one on one. That should give the others the chance to take down his machines and ruin his plans."

“But who would be insane enough to take on a powered-up Dark Dragon all by themselves?”

“It would have to be someone strong enough to take that sword from him?” Judgement proffered.

“Someone whose inner strength can make the most of it,” Omi agreed.

“The most heroic of all of us,” Stealth Watcher considered.

“Well, I can think of one person,” Intellitron said.

Every eye in the hall turned to Justice Man, sat in the front row, who was at that moment cleaning his ears. There was a stark silence, as the hero looked up and realised he had been chosen. He stood to face the crowds and-

“I’m guessing everyone’s looking at Justice Man reverentially?” Intellitron interrupted.

“Yes, they are,” said Sanctimony.

“It’s absurd I can’t be there. I’m not even a villain anymore.”

“You are kind of spoiling the moment, Intellitron.”

“Sorry. Very well. I’ll be quiet,” Intellitron granted.

Justice Man floated up to the stage and proudly put his hands to his hips. A smile flashed and he laughed triumphantly, exactly like he knew a true hero should.

“If you all insist, then I will bear the Sword of Songs and cut Dark Dragon down,” he said in his deepest, brashest tones. “I have always followed the League of Titans, so now I must defeat their greatest foe. Even if it’s hard, or dangerous, or suicidal, it is what I must do. Because I am, if nothing else, a hero,” he finished with a cheesy grin.

Everyone burst into raucous applause, apart from Omi and Cron.

“Does he actually know what he’s doing?” Omi whispered.

“I’m not sure,” Cron answered. “He is Justice Man though, so that’s got to count for something.”

From the back, Stealth Watcher looked worried. “That isn’t really a plan, big man,” he muttered to himself. “Still, you are the hero of heroes… I guess.”

“What a speech!” Judgement whispered. “Simply… heroic.”

“Now,” Justice Man continued, “to succeed we must fight together. Because a team that fights together, wins together. And there’s no I in Superheroes!”

“Right you are, Justice Man,” Sanctimony agreed proudly. “We’ll need a specialised team to fight alongside you. Any volunteers to charge straight into Dark Dragon’s maw?”

Justice Man blinked. “…Straight into what?”

The entire hall, who had been celebrating, immediately stopped. All arms fell to their sides. Then one shot up from the middle of the room.

“I’ll go,” Judgement announced. “I’m partially responsible for this mess, helping Cosmo.”

“We’re coming too,” Omi and Cron said in unison. “Because why not,” Cron added.

“And you’re not leaving me out of this,” Stealth Watcher called over the crowd.

“I’ll meet you all at the tower,” Intellitron said irritably, hanging up.

With the quota seemingly filled, the room fell back into celebration again, egging the chosen heroes on, a few giving cries of good luck.

Sanctimony stepped back to the mic with a sharp smile. “I don’t know what you’re all cheering about. While they deal with Dark Dragon, you lot will be dealing with everything else, cultists and demons alike. That is, if you want to keep your membership here.”

Everyone fell silent. It was a grim silence. They were going to war today.

* * *

The inside of Cosmo Tower looked a little different than it used to. Tessa had only been there once, when she’d bought her first lair, but there had definitely been some architectural work done now Dark Dragon was in charge.

For example, the entire inside of the tower had been completely gutted, floors and rooms ripped away, only leaving the bare bones skeleton of a building to make room for all of Dark Dragon’s terrifying machines.

Also, the décor was different. Much more red and ominous.

Tessa, or Madame Mechanism as was her villainous identity, had been tasked with keeping the power coils level. She mostly understood the technology at play, but there was a certain level of mysticism keeping her on her toes, turning dials and stopping everything exploding.

And then there were the demons.

By the time she’d answered Dark Dragon’s call, by which she meant the Apocalypto Cultists turning up at her door with swords, there were already three demons summoned. Monstrous, semi-human or completely inhuman things, all with grey skin like they were made from waxy stone. Now, almost a whole day had passed, and there were more of the horrid things. Every so often the machinery would flare, there would be a sound of triumph from above, and a new fiend would join the crew.

She looked around to try and count them, gauging her options, awaiting her-

“Get back to work!” A whip cracked against her armour, almost knocking her to the ground.

Madame Mechanism glared over her shoulder. The whip cracker was another demon. Twenty foot tall, mostly humanoid, as in two arms, two legs and a muscular torso, though it also had the head of a hawk. It was armed with twin axes as well as a whip, the axes currently in its belt. The other demons had made quite the fuss when he appeared, chanting his name; Vanserox the Slave Driver, some ancient general to keep everyone in line.

He certainly lived up to his name.

Mechanism stole a last glance before she got back to work. There were other supervillains around, but each was being minded by cultists or demons. The robot Annihilator was running on a massive wheel, powering the machines. Winter Lord was cooling systems, while The Torch was warming others. She’d seen Bank Breaker on the way up, who was helping with the filing. And then there was Trickster, who was working a pump with his feet, giggling to himself, his arms still bound by a straitjacket following an incident many years ago.

The whip cracked again by her ear, and Mechanism got back to her station, turning dials and switches. And then, checking in a reflection if Vanserox was watching, she slipped a hand into a pocket and texted her girlfriend.

More demons coming. Feels like DD is looking for one in particular. Love you. XX.

* * *

The heroes all gathered, ready for battle. The vast majority were lined up on the ground, a few blocks away from the tower, readying their weapons. Big Hitter readied his bat, The D-Fender prepared his future weapons, Watch Man polished his eyeball, The Wandering Fist straightened his gi, Melancholy got some mood music going, Big William cracked his massive knuckles, Undead Woman swung her shovel, The Cartwheeler bounced on her heels, Elder Wizard swung a magical staff, The Unknowable Helmet shined up his sallet, and Gun Shooter span the chambers of his revolvers, with a dozen other heroes besides.

Sanctimony stood at their head, his pen in hand, his clipboard counting off the heroes as present, waiting for the word.

High above, Justice Man, Judgement, Stealth Watcher, Omi and Cron, were all gathered on a rooftop. They eyed the dark, swirling aura of Cosmo Tower, now Dark Dragon’s fortress. As they did, a hovering, egg-shaped chair flew up, the blue skinned Intellitron piloting it.

“So, do we have a plan?” he asked as he dismounted.

“Tell him, big man,” Stealth Watcher patted Justice Man’s side.

“Yes. The plan,” Justice Man said with rehearsed pride. “We will break through the barrier, charge into the tower, and defeat Dark Dragon once and for all. Because that, Mr Intellitron, is what heroes do.”

“Understood, but how are we doing that?” Intellitron pressed.

“Well…” Justice Man’s mouth flapped. “Heroically?”

“Look, Intellitron, we’re a group of incredibly powerful superheroes,” Cron bragged. “We’ll manage it somehow, right?”

Omi sighed beside him, but offered no argument.

“So… the plan is to wing it?” Intellitron construed. “Against Dark Dragon?”

“He’s powerful, but he can’t be unbeatable,” Stealth Watcher readied his utility belt.

“You’ve clearly never been in a conference room with him. But, just to be clear though, the plan is… to improvise?”

“Do you have a better one?” Judgement asked him.

Intellitron thought for a moment. “…No. No I don’t.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Cron exclaimed, punching the air.

“Hold on,” Intellitron said hurriedly, before anything could kick off. “We’re still waiting on one of my henchmen. He’ll be here soon.”

“We’re waiting for a henchman?” Omi almost laughed

“Yes, we are. He’s flying in with-”

Intellitron was cut off by the rut of helicopter blades, the vehicle alighting across from them. Before it had even landed, the doors opened and Detective Washburn jumped out.

“Everyone?” she greeted in a harrowed tone. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

Behind her, Henchman 14 landed and got out, but no one paid him any mind.

“What’s the word, Detective Washburn?” Judgement said familiarly.

“Alright, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Good news,” Cron picked.

“We finally know what Dark Dragon is after.”

“What? How?” Stealth Watcher asked excitedly.

“Cosmo squealed like a pig,” Washburn explained. “He already told us everything he knows about Dark Dragon’s operation, and McElroy’s interrogating him for more. Most of it isn’t too useful right now, but we do, finally, after all these years, know Dark Dragon’s motives.”

“That’s fantastic!” Judgement exclaimed. “What does he want?”

“He wants to destroy something known as The Choir.”

Stealth Watcher and Justice Man shared a frightened look.

“The source of Chorus’s powers?” Watcher recalled.

“The very same,” Lucy confirmed. “Seems DD has some ancient grudge against them. Don’t know if I believe the story Cosmo told us, but that’s what Dark Dragon is after. The complete and utter destruction of this… musical force. And Cosmo believes this Choir may have ties to the origins of all superpowers, and destroying them will stop all superpowers forever.”

“Are we still in the good news?” Cron asked. “Any word of weaknesses?”

“Nope, but there is one last bit of good news. Cosmo told us Dark Dragon’s master plan. He wants to open a portal. A portal straight to The Choir.”

“Oh no,” Intellitron sighed.

“And there’s the bad news,” Lucy nodded. “We don’t know what’ll happen when that portal opens, but Cosmo suspects it’ll be bad.”

“Yes. It will,” the former supervillain confirmed.

“Please explain, Mr Intellitron, for the less scientific children.” Lucy gestured to the group.

Intellitron nodded. “Of course. First, do you all understand the basic principle of vacuums and their effects on atmosphere rich environments?”

There was a general round of nods, though Justice Man’s was a little slower.

“Nature abhors a vacuum,” Intellitron continued. “Differentials of pressure, something will always rush in to fill the empty space. And it can be pretty destructive. We’ve all seen decompressing airplanes. However, that phenomenon, an atmospheric vacuum, takes place in approximately three dimensions, give or take a couple. Now imagine the same event in five or more dimensions, ripped asunder by that portal, and that’s what we’re dealing with. He’s opening a door to another reality without safeguards.”

“How can you be sure he isn’t using safeguards?” Omi queried.

“Because he’s Dark bloody Dragon, and he’s apparently fuelled by a murderous grudge.”

“Cut to the chase, Intellitron. What damage are we talking about?” Stealth Watcher asked. “Will this be apocalyptic, or will it barely destroy Cosmo Tower?”

“Oh no, Cosmo Tower will be left standing.”

The group gave a relieved sigh.

“It’ll be in the eye of the storm. The rest of the city on the other hand…”

Washburn scowled. “I am out of patience today, Intellitron.”

“We’re talking winds that will level any building over three stories, temperature and gravity fluctuations changing the weight and density of everything in a twenty mile radius, and that’s not even considering how the laws of two different realities interacting will affect space and time on this side. In short, that portal opens, the city is doomed,” he said calmly.

“Oh…” Justice Man squeaked.

“But sure. I guess we can still just wing it,” Intellitron shrugged.

“Always good to know the stakes,” Stealth Watcher said tensely. “And how long before it activates?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll take days to charge… unless he can speed it up with demon magic,” Intellitron guessed. “The problem is he’ll be fortifying himself with new soldiers by the hour. If we don’t stop him soon, we’ll never be able to break through, and then time won’t matter.”

“My… um… contact inside says DD’s looking for one demon in particular,” Judgement informed. “For the moment, we have an opportunity. So, Justice Man? You’re leading the charge. Any ideas?”

“Um…” Justice Man went a little pale with all eyes on him. Then his hands went to his hips, back into his classic pose. “We fight bravely and save the day!”

Omi put up a hand. “Alright, but how?”

“Um…” Justice Man floundered again. “We… break the machine?”

“Are you serious?” Washburn eyed him sharply.

“Actually,” Intellitron interrupted, “That might just work. As long as it isn’t powered up, we should be able to just smash it. I’d imagine it’ll be a radio mast atop the tower. Then, once we destroy it, we only need to deal with Dark Dragon himself.”

Lucy looked aghast. “So that’s the plan? Attack, break stuff, win? That’s the entire plan?”

The heroes all looked at each other. With an uncertain resolution, they all nodded.

“Yep.”

“Unfortunately, it would seem that is the plan, detective,” Intellitron confirmed mournfully.

“I told you,” 14 added, sidling up to Washburn, “They take forever to do absolutely nothing.”

Lucy went to comment, but just sighed. “Fine then. Let’s do it. Let’s save the world.”

“Give the signal, Judgement,” Watcher instructed.

Judgement took a deep breath, flew to the edge of the roof, and yelled at the top of her lungs.

“CHARGE!”

* * *

Within the tower, on the very top floor, two cultists were working. A portal had been wired into the machinery, the arch sparking with red lightning. One of the cultists scoured through an ancient tome, while the other was controlling the power levels.

The cultist with the book ran his finger down a page and finally stopped.

“Alright, I have one. Are you ready?”

“Only if you’re sure this time,” the other answered.

“Okay. Man the controls, keep it all level.” He stepped up to the portal. “I call to the demon realm!” he said grandly. “I summon you, Careros, Queen of Night!”

The portal sparked violently and the air in the arch rent apart. A creature emerged that was twelve foot tall and covered in grey armour. It was so covered that nothing could be seen beneath it, the form half-resembling an armoured hill.

“Careros? Are you the one we seek?”

“I dunno,” the creature said, its voice reverberating from somewhere in the plating.

“Are you the master we seek?”

“I can help you patch some steel if you like?” it said in a harsh, working-class accent.

“I… Pardon?”

“I’m Careros… Wait, what did you call me?” it asked.

“The Queen of Night?”

“No, mate,” the demon shook its head, only discernible by a shifting helmet. “That’s a mistranslation.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s Lady of the Night,” the cultist working the controls muttered.

“No, mate. It’s Careros Queen of Knights. With a K. I’m an armourer.”

“What?!” The first cultist flew into a fury. “But your name is inscribed in an ancient tongue! I had to translate it! How can there be wordplay?!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, mate.” Part of the armour pile shrugged.

“But you-”

“Your methods are a disappointment,” a chilling voice echoed behind them. A voice that sounded like a mountain dropping through an industrial grinder.

Neither cultist had to look. They knew. Dark Dragon had been watching, waiting for… whatever it was he was waiting for. Even the dark lord himself seemed uncertain, but they kept searching. Careros meanwhile recognised the demon knight, made some form of salute, though it was difficult to tell how, and hurried off to receive orders elsewhere.

“Yet another demon and not the one I seek,” Dark Dragon snarled, striding forwards, The Sword of Songs scraping the ground from his hip.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but the text is difficult to decipher. If only you could tell us what you seek?” the first cultist begged.

“It… eludes me,” Dark Dragon hesitated. “However, even if you cannot find it, then warrior demons will be of service. This and the last were a pathetic waste.”

“Yes, Parellon the Killer was a disappointment. How was I to know he was just the funniest jester in the kingdom?”

“And Carver Temooriq?”

“I didn’t even know they had ice sculptors back then.”

“Cease your prattle,” Dark Dragon commanded. “Open it again and bring me a true demon. A warrior of wit and cunning. One to complete my work.”

“Yes, my lord,” the cultist nodded.

“Oh, this ones sounds sinister,” the second cultist sneered, having snuck over to the book during the reprimanding. “Allow me, oh great dark lord.”

Without asking, he ran from the book, to the controls, and then to the portal.

“I summon you! Artefax the Scrivener!”

The portal crackled, the air rent, and something emerged. By demon standards it was tiny. Barely as tall as a man, hunched over, and draped in rags. The top of its head barely reached eye level. The fiend looked like an old man, though it had four brittle limbs, a weak neck, and a head that looked like a dried prune. It lacked a mouth, but its eyes glowed a deep yellow.

“You idiot!” the first cultist admonished the second. “That was the last use of the portal for an hour! We’ll have to wait for it to cool down now!”

“My bad. This isn’t what I expected,” the second admitted. “It certainly sounded ominous, Artefax the Scrivener.”

“Do you even know what a scrivener is?”

“No. But I certainly don’t want to be scriven, do you?”

The lead cultist put his head in his hands, screaming into his palms. He came up for air and looked at the demon.

“You? What do you do?” he addressed Artefax.

“I am the scrivener, the record keeper, for the courts…” it said in a feeble, echoing voice.

“So, no special powers? Weapons? Anything?”

“No, sir.”

“Urgh… Then you can join the others below. Maybe Bank Breaker needs something signed-”

“Wait,” Dark Dragon beckoned.

Both cultists leapt out of the way as their lord approached.

“You. You served in the royal courts?” Dark Dragon growled. “Which king did you serve?”

Artefax bowed. “I served the king whose name you so condemn, my lord. I now follow you.”

“So you served before Chorus felled our kingdom?”

The demon nodded. “Such a wretch will forever be cursed by me,” it sneered.

Dark Dragon narrowed his eyes. “And you recall Chorus’s masters?”

“I do, my lord.”

Dark Dragon’s eyes went wide, almost excited. “In this age, this tongue, those masters are called The Choir. However, I am ancient now. So ancient that my memories are dust. I recall so little of those early days, and even less of our language. I cannot recall The Choir’s name… So much is lost. But you… Do you recall their name?”

“Yes, my lord. It burns in my heart with the same hatred as you.”

“Could you inscribe it, though do not speak it?”

“Gladly, if it means their destruction.”

“Excellent,” Dark Dragon audibly grinned, cruelty curling in his voice. “Do not speak it, for I would kill you to even hear it. But, with their true name, we can inscribe it onto the tower. Inscribed in the tongue that birthed my power, the tongue of The Choir’s song, I can cleave open reality itself. I can finally murder my accursed enemy, and rend them with my own two hands. I will reach this wretched Choir, and I will see them burn to ashes!” he cried.

Dark Dragon curled his clawed fingers in triumph, the air crackling and darkening around him. Then suddenly, he turned his haunting gaze on the second cultist.

“You have done well. Now, ready the others. The door to The Choir opens soon.”

“Yes, my lord,” the cultist bowed proudly.

“Artefax, follow me. We shall complete the work.”

“Yes, great lord,” the demon hobbled along behind.

As they were left alone, the first cultist turned to the second.

“You jammy git,” he scowled.

* * *

Sanctimony waited nervously, almost to the point his wings were moulting. Before the heroes stood the gathered forces of the Apocalypto Cult, a few hundred yards away behind their border surrounding Cosmo Tower. The cultists had moved cars and wreckage to create barricades, and one had managed to find a heavy machinegun which was now mounted on a make-shift parapet. It didn’t look good.

Still, Sanctimony managed to veil his nerves. He stood tall before his men, proud and apparently brave, the bold leader of The Guild of Heroes.

Everyone behind him was less composed. There were chattering teeth, people were shaking, and one young hero was conspicuously trying to move to the edge of the group. Heroes they may be, but a battle on this scale was incredibly rare. Most were only used to purse snatchers, bank robbers, and the occasional supervillain. Not an army of evil maniacs in masks.

But Sanctimony held ready, watching them proudly, and stopping them from running away.

“CHARGE!” came a voice from above.

“Oh hell,” the angel swore under his breath.

Sanctimony swallowed the lump in his throat and raised a hand. With a flash, his pen grew to the size of a sword, holding it by the clip. He held the weapon aloft.

“HEROES! CHARGE!”

The heroes did so.

Gun Shooter and D-Fender fired a barrage of bullets, the cultists darting for cover. Elder Wizard and Wandering Fist leapt onto cars, launching spells from staff and fists. Melancholy and Undead Woman ran up behind the sorcerers, summoning a tide of tragedy and undead ghouls. Big William and Big Hitter teamed up, launching bits of wreckage and batting them into the battlements like a cannon. And Unknowable Helmet ran with Cartwheeler, one flipping off of the front lines, as the other headbutted their way through.

On the battlements, the machinegun was loaded and aimed.

“WATCH MAN!” Sanctimony called.

The hero with a giant eyeball for a head leapt onto a vehicle, focused his eye, and a golden beam of searing energy blasted from his cornea. It turned the machinegun into molten slag, and left even less of the cultist who’d been manning it. All that was left was a smoking hole in the battlements.

“Go! Defeat the cultists! Get to the tower!” Sanctimony ordered, a commander to his men.

And the heroes charged on.

* * *

Back above, Justice Man and his team lined up, as they heard chaos breaking out below. They watched the heroes charge, before a barricade was obliterated by an eye beam.

“Forwards!” Justice Man commanded.

Justice Man, Judgement and Intellitron flew ahead, while Stealth Watcher swung from the buildings on grapple lines. Omi and Cron were carried by Justice Man, like two babes under his arms, leaving Lucy and 14 on the rooftop with their helicopter.

Passing the battle below, they closed in on the swirling monolith that was Cosmo Tower.

“Here we are,” Intellitron noted, floating in his hover throne. “Now we just need to break through the barrier. Anyone powerful enough to do that?”

“We can only hope,” Judgement said honestly.

“Or, you know, we could try and calculate it scientifically?” Intellitron proffered.

Judgement charged her fists, each one glowing golden like the sun. At the same time, Stealth Watcher readied a handful of explosive boomerangs, Omi, in Justice Man’s arms, produced a bunch of throwing stars, while Justice Man himself focused his telekinetic abilities.

“Or we could just wing it…” Intellitron gave up, and converted his robot arm to a cannon.

“FIRE!”

They let loose against the swirling barrier. Energy blasted, boomerangs exploded, throwing stars shattered, and Justice Man’s telekinesis surged against the wall, trapping the energy and shrapnel like a cup over a bomb. Intellitron aimed for the storm’s centre, charged his cannon and fired. Beneath the barrage, the barrier began to bend, splintered cracks forming. But it would not break.

“We… need… more!” Judgement called over the roar of their fire.

“Sanctimony?” Stealth Watcher patched into some coms.

“Help is coming!” cried Santimony’s angelic voice. “SUNSHINE CELEBRATION!”

Below, in the fracas, Sanctimony raised his hands and a ball of light fired into the air. It stopped just above the breach team, took the form of a smiley face, and glowed more like the sun than Judgement’s fists.

“IT’S A HAPPY SUNSHINE DAY! HOORAY!” the face yelled cheerily, then unleashed an onslaught of pure fire into the barrier.

The barrier bent, almost to breaking. Cracks widened, creaking.

“Almost… there…” Intellitron grunted over his overheating arm.

“WATCH MAN!” Sanctimony called.

From below, the eye-headed hero looked up, and took aim.

His beam shot up, joined the others, and more than doubled the pressure on the barrier. With a final shrieking like straining glass, and a snap like a rubber band, the barrier shattered.

The wall of swirling darkness smashed, like a hole punched through glass. A jagged gap in the chaos, flames vanishing into one side and reappearing on the other, like a hole in a screensaver. The heroes stopped their barrage and headed through.

“So, Watch Man provides security for The Guild, right?” Intellitron queried to no one in particular. “Nothing else? With powers like that?”

No one answered as they alighted on the roof beyond. The roof of Cosmo Tower was simple. A flat rooftop covered with brown gravel, with a helipad and a door. Nothing special.

Or at least that’s how it was before Dark Dragon moved in.

Now, there was a throne, carved into the shape of a pile of skulls, resting on a plinth. Behind the throne loomed a tower, one with crystals and miscellaneous machinery welded into it. A creature, presumably a demon, was in the rigging, carving ancient symbols into the metal. The tower sparked with red energy, the power channelling upwards, aiming towards the sky.

But there was no sign of Dark Dragon himself.

“Maybe he’s not home?” Cron hoped.

The air rippled as grim laughter echoed from all around.

“No such luck,” Omi sighed.

“So, the heroes have come to battle me yet again,” Dark Dragon’s rumbling voice came from nowhere. “They bring their many champions, while I stand alone.”

With a wash of dark fire, Dark Dragon materialised, seated in his throne. The Sword of Songs gleamed in one hand, his palm resting on the pommel, the blade’s tip on the ground.

Behind the heroes, the helicopter landed, and Lucy and 14 jumped out. Both of them paled as they saw Dark Dragon in person.

“And now there are witnesses to my victory, and your destruction,” Dark Dragon sneered.

“This is all you, J-Man,” Stealth Watcher prompted, stepping back.

“We’ll be here if you need us,” Judgement all but retreated.

Omi gave a thumbs up, while Cron pushed Justice Man forwards.

“Are we seriously just fighting him one on one?” Intellitron whispered.

Judgement quirked an eyebrow. “It was your plan!”

“I didn’t think you’d take it so literally!”

Justice Man tiptoed forwards, before recalling himself and posing proudly. He swaggered forth, hands on hips, his head up and eyes ablaze, though there was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. His gaze locked onto the Sword of Songs, his sole target. He just needed to get-

The sword landed at his feet, as Dark Dragon tossed it to him.

“Pick it up,” the demonic warrior snarled.

“Pardon?” Justice Man sputtered.

“I no longer need such a prop. The sword has freed my power, forever, this wretched tool of The Choir. And I will face them in time. But now I stand in opposition to you, Justice Man, my greatest mortal foe. You are a warrior, a proud one, so I will face your challenge. I will fight you, and I will crush you at your strongest, the Sword of Songs in your hand. And I wish them to see what it turns you into.”

He pointed to the watching heroes.

“I wish your comrades to know what I already suspect. I want them to witness your true strength, your true self, and then watch as I crush you under my heel,” Dark Dragon growled, his voice so deep the others could feel it in their bones. “Pick it up.” He pointed to the sword.

“I’m… I’m not so sure about this anymore.” Justice Man took a step back.

Dark Dragon’s hand went to his side, a blade of crimson fire forming in his hand.

“Pick. It. Up.”

Justice Man looked for reassurance from the crowd, but everyone else looked just as confused. So, warily, he stepped forwards, bent down for the sword, and reached, his eyes on Dark Dragon the whole time. Dark Dragon just watched, red eyes drilling through his soul.

Finally, Justice Man’s hand met the brass handle.

There was a flash of light as power coursed out, surrounding him in a swirl of stars. In a spiral of light, his orange and blue outfit turned to gold and silver, and his already muscular form grew, stretching the outfit to its limits. Justice Man flexed his new muscles, smiled, and raised the sword to fight.

“Finally, we shall see the true you,” Dark Dragon purred, then sprang at the hero.

Justice Man stood steadfast, matching Dark Dragon’s blade with the Sword of Songs. Brass met fire, as an overhead strike hammered Justice Man’s feet through the roof gravel. But the hero countered, parrying Dark Dragon away, before taking off in flying pursuit.

The pair danced in turning battle. Dark Dragon had the speed and strength, but Justice Man had flight and telekinesis. The hero pushed his swings with his mind powers, and then dodged the riposte with flight. And he needed to. Dark Dragon was hitting like a truck. Each swing sent Justice Man reeling, or almost buckled his legs, strong enough that even with telekinesis, Justice Man could barely hold them back.

With a flick of his fiery blade, Dark Dragon almost disarmed the hero, and slashed a line across his chest. The blade scorched and scarred the golden suit, before Dark Dragon hammered an armoured fist into the centre of the cut. With a crack like thunder, Justice Man crashed to the floor, raking across the gravel.

“As I suspected,” Dark Dragon growled, staring down at the broken hero. “Pathetic.”

“What is going on?!” Judgement worried from the sidelines. “The sword should have made him more powerful than this, right?”

“I mean, yeah,” Cron agreed. “He’s Justice Man!”

“But he’s almost weaker than he usually is,” Intellitron noted, an authority on the subject.

As Justice Man tried to stand, flecks of gold dusted off his suit, grated by the gravel. A huge patch of flakes tumbled off his chest where the fist made contact, revealing his regular suit beneath, orange and blue. And padding where his new muscles should be. The demon knight approached.

“I… I don’t understand,” Justice Man panicked, clutching gold flakes in his fingers.

Dark Dragon stood over him. “The sword takes your inner strength and turns it into power. But there is no strength inside you, Justice Man. You are a warrior, that I cannot deny, one to rival even me. But there is no purpose. No devotion. You are no hero, Justice Man.”

Dark Dragon lunged, a boot on Justice Man’s chest, pinning him under the heel.

“A pitiful fool,” the demon proclaimed. “You lack true purpose. You merely fight because it is what you believe superheroes do. You were granted these gifts, strength, flight, but now all you are is a joke. You save lives, but you never once questioned your role. A shallow imitation of a hero, who doesn’t know why he fights. Never knows why he does anything!”

Dark Dragon’s heel ground Justice Man’s ribs, as the caped crusader writhed.

“Even your image is stolen, a shadow of your idols, The League of Titans,” he hissed the name. “An outfit from Chorus with colours from Indestructo. Even your skills are a poor mimicry, from Mask Man and Fist Puncher. Beneath your golden veneer, your so-called valour, you are no hero, Justice Man. You are just the imaginings of one. A child playing dress-up. There is no will in you. No drive. No purpose. There is only the delusion of a man. A man who strives for greatness, but does not understand what makes a man great.”

Dark Dragon removed his foot.

“You are nothing.” He raised his sword.

“No!” the other heroes cried.

“Do something, you daft idiots!” Lucy roared, drawing and emptying her pistol into Dark Dragon’s hide.

While most of the bullets ricocheted off, sending heroes leaping for cover, one hit true, flying into Dark Dragon’s helm straight between his eyes. Dark Dragon’s head recoiled, and his sword missed Justice Man’s scalp by inches.

Lucy took a moment, genuinely sure she’d just killed Dark Dragon, until his head began to lower, aiming its sights on her. The helm spat out the bullet. An armoured arm raised, pointing the sword at her, and swung.

“Washburn!” 14 tackled Lucy to the floor as a crescent of infernal energy sliced overhead.

Lucy looked up at the henchman on top of her. Despite the save, she did not look pleased.

“Seriously? Can you get off me now- Oh hell! MOVE!” She wrapped her arms around him and rolled, as a burning downward slash followed.

“Rush him!” Judgement commanded, and every hero leapt into battle.

At the edge, 14 and Lucy disentangled themselves, and got back up.

“Detective, I think it might be safer if you waited out of the way.”

“I think you might be right, Henchman 14. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” 14 drew his laser rifle and joined the fray.

Lucy meanwhile turned to the kneeling form of Justice Man, the sword dropped beside him, his golden outfit gone, replaced with his usual orange and blue.

“And you’re just going to sit there?” she eyed him.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore,” the hero moaned bereft.

“You could at least do something.”

Justice Man stayed silent.

“Urgh…” Lucy complained to no one in particular. “Does it really have to be me who talks some sense into a superhero?”

Justice Man said nothing.

“Oh hell,” Lucy sighed.

At the same time, the other heroes hurtled towards Dark Dragon.

Judgement led the charge, her fists aglow, as she landed two punches to Dark Dragon’s helm, ringing his head like a bell. Cron was close behind, and delivered another pair of strikes to the knight’s stomach, pushing him back. The two leapt away, as Omi launched a barrage of throwing stars, flying like bullets, embedding in Dark Dragon’s armour. Stealth Watcher took up the rear, throwing a tiny device which magnetically attached and sent lightning lancing between the throwing stars. Finally, Intellitron aimed his cannon arm, charged a plasma sphere the size of a basketball, and fired.

The blast exploded, Dark Dragon engulfed like a neutron bomb going off.

The heroes waited as the smoke cleared. For a vain moment, they hoped it had worked. But they knew it hadn’t. They could feel it, Dark Dragon’s wretched aura. And, as the smoke cleared, Dark Dragon was stood precisely where he’d been, the throwing stars and zapper melted off of his armour.

“A futile waste of strength,” the demon knight growled.

The growl became a roar, flames pouring from his gauntlets, the blaze surrounding him like a cyclone. Fire shot into the heavens like a geyser, the inferno burning until his black armour glowed white-hot. Then, with a scream of infernal heat, the fire exploded.

Waves of fire coursed out, catching the heroes in the chest like a searing iron bar, winding them and burning their skin. Judgement alone held her feet, shielding herself with a pulse of her own energy. The air prickled as she stared Dark Dragon down. He stared back.

Fists aglow, she swung for his head. Dark Dragon narrowed his eyes. As she reached him, Dark Dragon moved with lightning speed, grabbed her by a glowing fist and planted a curled gauntlet firmly in her stomach. Lifting her with the impact, he grabbed her and threw her back the way she came.

Judgement landed in a one person heap, coughing and wheezing, right beside Justice Man. Lucy was still trying to stir him, mainly with obscenities, but Judgement’s eye caught something else as her head swam.

The Sword of Songs.

“Alright. Let’s do this,” she muttered, and reached for the brass blade.

Hand met handle, and there was a flash of golden light. Judgement floated, her outfit changing from black and gold to purple and silver. The glow faded just as abruptly, and she fell to the roof with a heavy crash, landing on two feet.

“This feels… weird,” she mumbled as purple-silver energy coursed over her suit. “Everything’s so… heavy.”

Realisation dawned, and her eyes settled on the sword in her hands.

“Oh. I get it!” She stood straight, and with a snap of her fingers, the energy dispelled.

Dark Dragon didn’t look impressed.

“Let’s do this!” Judgement repeated, squared her shoulders, and charged.

Dark Dragon barely moved, stretching clawed fingers and waiting.

Judgement surged towards him, then planted her feet and extended a hand, casting a cloud of silver-purple energy around the villain.

“The weight of your sins upon you, Dark Dragon. For I am the scales of justice,” she announced, the scales logo on her chest glowing. “Gravity powers, sucker!”

The scales on her chest glowed and animated, one side lowering. The gravity around Dark Dragon increased, the demon knight buckling, bending under the weight.

Judgement clenched a hand and the scales tipped further. She crushed him, his armour creaking, until she heard something new. A small noise separate from the creaking. A scampering, gravelly voice, as Artefax the Scrivener scurried over.

“My lord!” the demon panicked, unheeding of his master’s peril. “The tower!”

All eyes turned. Henchman 14 was firing his rifle, picking circuitry, crystals, and any loose technology he could off the tower, taking parts down with well-placed lasers.

“Excuse me a moment, Judgement,” Dark Dragon strained. He shot out a spare hand, wrapped his fingers around Artefax’s neck, and launched the demon bodily at Henchman 14.

The henchman did not see it coming, and the pair were ragdolled to the floor.

“Now. To business,” Dark Dragon hissed, and began to stand straight again.

As he rose, the scales on Judgement’s chest shifted back. She focused her new powers and tried to crush him harder, but he just pushed higher, raising the scales further. The moment they passed a balanced state, Judgement felt it. The weight came down on her, like sacks of flower dropped onto her back, pressing her to the floor.

Dark Dragon stood straight, lifting the invisible weight over his head.

“Die by your own powers, Judgement,” he hissed.

“I… am… Judgement,” the hero groaned, pushing back and failing. “I. Will. Not. Falter!”

Dark Dragon eyed her coldly, holding the weight one handed. “You resist, but you cannot win. Not with your own might and not with that sword. Your justice is weakened, your values lessened upon the scales,” he glowered, walking closer. “Once you were a woman of values. Strict, unbreakable, you believed you could be better than men of law. But look at you now. Time has softened your ideals. You no longer see your work as a duty, but merely as a chore. Your beliefs are faded, and with them your strength. You even bed a supervillain.”

“Hey! You can’t choose who you fall in love with!” Judgement dropped the sword, released her gravity powers, and fired a blast of her raw energy square into Dark Dragon’s face.

Again, Dark Dragon’s helm rang like a gong, launching him back as the gravity weight left him. His clawed boots grated as he landed, caught their grip, and stopped him dead. One gauntlet formed an orb of hellfire, shrank it until it was the size of a cricket ball, and fired it into Judgement’s chest.

“Oof…” she said, as the orb punched her in the ribs. It knocked the air from her, and then promptly exploded, the blast firing her clear off the roof and into a shorter neighbouring building. There followed a sound of smashing glass and a loud pained groan, then silence.

Dark Dragon glared around, sparing a glance towards Artefax, who was out cold. He instead turned to the Sword of Songs and found four boots, two red, two blue, standing beside it.

“Alright,” Omi said grandly. “Justice Man couldn’t stop you. Judgement couldn’t either. But we can… possibly… maybe,” he sputtered to a stop.

“More confidence, Omi,” Cron muttered, then strode forwards. “We’ll crush you into the dirt like the worm you are, you big dark creep!”

Dark Dragon just stared, the shape of his eyes indicating an amused smirk. He gestured a hand, offering the blade, his own crimson sword reforming in his spare claw.

“Who’s going first?” Omi whispered to his teammate.

“Do you want to?”

“Oh, I don’t want to step on your toes.”

“Cool, because I really want to,” Cron said, and took up the blade.

His grip tightened like a vice on the hilt, and a surge of red smoke swirled up his arms. It poured over him, turned the silver of his suit to scarlet, and turned his mask into a closed faced helmet. Then the smoke headed inwards, his muscles beefing up, as two long horns appeared from the helmet to complete the look.

“Ha!” Cron burst out excitedly. “I’m the unstoppable force. You’re the immovable object. Let’s solve this once and for all!” He charged Dark Dragon horns first.

Dark Dragon didn’t move. He held his sword at his side, raising his other arm like a matador without a cape. Cron charged him at a truly brutal speed, his feet burning tracks in the rooftop. Then, as his horns were moments from the demon’s plating, Dark Dragon slipped sideways, and swung his sword up Cron’s back as he passed.

“Yowch!” Cron yelled, the crimson blade grazing his rear. He kept running, turned in a long, momentum bound curve, and charged back at the demon knight.

Dark Dragon readied himself, but Cron spread his arms wide. There was no way he was slipping past this time. The hero sped like a human bullet train, almost parallel to the ground with acceleration, as Dark Dragon refused to budge.

Feet apart, Dark Dragon suddenly kicked, landing an armoured boot between Cron’s eyes.

It was like a car hitting a bollard. Cron hit the immovable boot, and all his speed flipped him into the air. Upside down, unwillingly somersaulting overhead, Cron could only yell. Until Dark Dragon’s hands came up, caught him by the waist, and stopped him dead in midair.

Cron stopped with a hrrk of whiplash, then opened his eyes above a broken nose, still upside down, looking up at the roof beneath him. He knew what was coming.

“Omi!” he yelled and hurled the sword, right before he was pile-driven into the ground like a post. His helmet departed him moments after the impact, leaving him very pained, but alive.

 The sword landed by Omi’s feet, the blue hero tentatively reaching for it. He watched his beaten partner, checking he was alive first, and stared in terror at the advancing knight.

“Here goes nothing,” he sighed, and picked up the sword.

Similar to Cron, a spray of blue mist surged around him. Silver became blue, and a bandoleer of razor sharp knives formed around his midsection. As the mist coursed into him, his form grew thinner, sleeker, and his eyes started to glow with intense white light.

“What the hell!” Omi yelled, spinning on the spot in alarm. He wound up facing the wrong way, staring at his surroundings through glowing eyes. “I can see for bloody miles… Wait, I can see my house from here. Hell, I can see my parent’s house, and they live in China.”

“Omi! Turn around you twit…” Cron grumbled, pulling himself out of a crater.

Omi turned and tried to aim his focus at Dark Dragon, who was not miles away, but only yards away and closing. It was like trying to read with a telescope. Finally, he managed to guide his vision and find Dark Dragon’s head.

“AHH! I can see into his helm! Oh god!” he screamed. “It’s a nightmare!”

Dark Dragon closed in on the panicking hero. As he did, Henchman 14 dashed in from the side, raised his rifle, and opened fire at close range.

“Take this you-” he yelled, and was clotheslined by Dark Dragon for his trouble, who barely had to adjust course to hit him.

Dark Dragon continued to charge, when Omi finally stopped yelling. Shaking off the fear, he drew three blades from his bandoleer, locked on, and sent them flying like bullets, each one cutting the air perfectly as they flew.

The first missed by inches. The second deflected off Dark Dragon’s sword. The third skimmed Dark Dragon’s hip, scratching the metal.

“Ha! Got you, you armoured afront to-”

Omi couldn’t finish the insult, as Dark Dragon reached him. He shoulder barged, grabbed Omi by the chest, and launched the lithe hero into the air with a throw. As Omi reached his apex and fell back to earth, the crimson blade came round like an executioner’s axe. Omi was practically hugging the Sword of Songs, which luckily took the hit, the hero getting batted across the roof like a softball.

With surprising accuracy, he landed beside Cron, both of them grunting in pain.

“Maybe if we wield it together?” Omi suggested.

“We can try,” Cron agreed, placing a hand beside Omi’s on the sword, re-sprouting his horns.

Dark Dragon twirled his own sword, glaring at them.

“One, a man of insight and accuracy. The other, a bull-headed brute,” the demon knight snarled. “Together, they are two halves of the perfect warrior.”

“That’s right, Dark Doofus!” Cron yelled.

Dark Dragon sprinted, and in a blink was right in front of them. They each panicked and pulled the blade in opposing directions.

“But two halves do not always make a whole,” the villain hissed, dispelling his crimson sword and lifting them up by their chests. With a spin and a wrenching twist, he hurled them to opposite ends of the roof, the Sword of Songs skittering to the ground somewhere between.

Over near Justice Man, Lucy had escalated to shaking him and yelling. She was seconds from slapping him. From nearby, Intellitron fired a small barrage of missiles to literally no effect. Dark Dragon didn’t even pay attention. Intellitron looked at the battle so far, saw how little damage his weapons had done, and gave up fighting. He instead started to think of a plan.

Dark Dragon looked around at the various beaten, broken, and berated heroes. A look of grim satisfaction shaped his eyes.

“Enough. The game ends here. No more shall stand against me. No more shall fall. Now the gate will open. I will meet my enemy and The Choir shall burn in my flame. My great work will finally-”

“Not yet!” Stealth Watcher called, appearing beside the sword where it embedded in the roof.

Dark Dragon turned.

“I tire of this,” he snarled, and charged for the little caped hero.

“It’s finally come to this…” Stealth Watcher hesitated, then reached for the sword. “Superpowers.”

His hand took the grip and a swirl of light and shadows surrounded him. The shadows took prominence, engulfing his form in an orb of night. Then, like an egg cracking, the sphere splintered and burst, exploding to reveal… Stealth Watcher. Looking very much the same.

“I… I don’t feel any different,” he said, inspecting himself.

Dark Dragon swung for him, the flaming blade scything the air. “Worthless. You are a man whose only point of pride is that you have no powers, yet you keep up with greater heroes. A man who prides himself on being merely human.”

“Wait? So I don’t get anything?” Watcher yelled annoyed, dodging backwards.

“Foolish creature. It is all that you are. A man amongst gods.”

“That’s bullsh- URGH!” Stealth Watcher doubled over as he took Dark Dragon’s fist to the gut. He collapsed breathless to the floor.

While this was happening, Intellitron looked around for any hope. There wasn’t much. His eye eventually alighted on the broken Justice Man.

“-you absolute, empty-headed, useless excuse for a hero!” Lucy berated the caped crusader. “Get out there and do some good!”

“Excuse me?” Intellitron addressed, cutting off the tirade.

“I can’t snap him out of it,” she snarled. “I hate to admit it, but we need him.”

“I agree,” Intellitron said gently, stepping forwards as Lucy took the hint and stepped back. “Hello there, Justice Man,” Intellitron tried to meet the hero’s eye.

Justice Man looked forlorn. He raised his head and his cheeks were stained with tears.

 “Why am I a hero, Intellitron?” he wept. “I mean, look at me. I always thought the answer was ‘Because I have super powers’. I got them and knew I was supposed to fight crime, because that’s what you do with superpowers. It’s what the League of Titans did. But why me? Why do I do it? I never worked out why. I never had my Moment. Never decided. Never worked out why I was doing any of this. I just did it. Why am I even here?”

Intellitron sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Alright, Justice Man, you’ve chosen an excellent moment for your first ever existential crisis, but we don’t have time. Instead, listen to me. You fought against me for many years, stopping me every single time. And why? Because you understand what’s right,” the former villain said certainly.

Justice Man didn’t look convinced.

“You understand good and evil, Justice Man. You always have. You know what has to be done, and to a lesser degree, how to do it. Now, maybe you were just playing dress up. Maybe you are an idiot. Maybe you don’t think through your plans, and your disguises are terrible.”

He locked eyes with the hero.

“But, you stopped me. Over and over and over again, you stopped me. Infuriatingly so. Now, I’m not good at motivational speeches, but listen to me now. Sometimes, the world doesn’t need a scalpel. Sometimes it just needs a good old fashioned hammer. Something simple and uncomplicated. Goodness purely for the sake of goodness. All those other heroes, they have backstories and motives that raise questions about who’s good, who’s evil, who is really right or wrong. But you, Justice Man, are a dense rock in a sea of shifting priorities and opinions. A lighthouse against the waves. For years, I prattled at you, telling you why I was right and you were wrong, and you never listened to a word of it, did you? And look at me now. Fighting the good fight. Because of you… kind of.”

Intellitron raised the hero by his shoulders, bringing him to his feet.

“You’re a hero, Justice Man.”

Justice Man sniffled. “Do you…*sniff* Do you really mean it?” he asked, wiping his tears.

 “Yes. I do. Now, let me make this very simple. Dark Dragon is hurting people. Hurting your fellow heroes. Hurting your friends. And very soon, he’ll be hurting innocent civilians. So, what are you going to do, hero?”

“I’m… I’m going to do what’s right,” Justice Man wiped his nose.

“And what’s that?”

“I’m going to save people,” he straightened up.

“And why?”

“Because… Because…”

“Because this is your Moment. Let it be your Moment. Decide now. Because who are you?”

“I… I… I. AM. JUSTICE MAN!” he exclaimed, hands back on hips in a classic pose. He was back. “Thank you, old friend. Now let’s take on this evil together,” he bellowed, his heroic tones ringing out again.

“Glad to hear it,” Intellitron agreed, and they turned to face Dark Dragon.

They turned just in time to see Stealth Watcher collapse in a heap.

“S.W!” Justice Man cried, then his brow furrowed. “You’ll pay for that, Dark Dragon!”

“Enough of these games. This ends now!” Dark Dragon answered, summoning a crimson sword into each hand.

“You’ll have to go through us,” Justice Man proclaimed.

“Of course he says us…” Intellitron murmured, and followed Justice Man into battle.

Justice Man flew top speed, causing a tiny sonic boom, planting a fist squarely in Dark Dragon’s armoured stomach. The blow lifted the villain from the floor and sent his eyes wide in shock. When he landed, he stumbled back, winded, forced himself upright, and crossed his blades to attack.

Blades swung, scorching the air, leaving trails of crimson flame. Justice Man danced back, dodging and diving, watching his opponent carefully. Dark Dragon was fast, and closing the distance constantly, faster than Justice Man could retreat. With a roar, Dark Dragon’s arms stretched outwards and swung across, his swords slicing in from both sides.

Justice Man thought fast. He turned his back to one sword, focused his mind, and blasted the other blade with telekinesis. The sword behind him met his indestructible cape, while the one in front was blasted clean out of Dark Dragon’s gauntlet.

Intellitron, meanwhile, was calculating the best plan of attack. He’d tried a plasma ball, he’d tried missiles, he’d tried most of the weapons he had. Now he needed something else. He needed precision. Delicate operation. Strategy.

Unfortunately, the only plan that formed required him to charge in like an idiot.

Intellitron leapt recklessly onto Dark Dragon’s sword arm and clung there like he was riding a bull. His eye fired a stasis beam, but it dissipated in Dark Dragon’s red aura, as unpleasantly expected. Instead, he raised his robot arm. Switching it to a blowtorch mode, he began to weld with a sparking glow, cutting into Dark Dragon’s armour.

“Good show, Intellitron!” Justice Man praised.

“H-Hel-p-M-E,” the former villain warbled as he was flailed.

“Parasite!” Dark Dragon growled, reaching for Intellitron’s neck with his free hand.

“Ha ha! Fallen right into our trap!” Justice Man called, and pinned Dark Dragon’s free arm across his chest, just shy of reaching Intellitron. “Keep going, Intellitron!”

Intellitron clung on as Dark Dragon shook him like he was trying to dislodge a bug. Even so, between a robot arm, a robot eye, and a lifetime of soldering, his cutting was still precise. With a few seconds of focused effort, he managed to cut some bolts and work a plate of armour off from Dark Dragon’s shoulder.

There was just more armour underneath.

“Huh. Should have expected that,” Intellitron murmured, before his grip failed and he was flung bodily across the rooftop.

He landed on his back, aching in a way that was both unpleasantly familiar and mildly nostalgic. He pushed himself up and watched Justice Man wrestle with Dark Dragon’s arms.

The monstrous villain clawed vainly at Justice Man with one arm, while Justice Man looked like he was trying to restrain a feisty drunk who wanted to fight. Finally, one of Dark Dragon’s claws lanced across the hero’s shoulder, causing a wince, as Dark Dragon inhaled a massive breath, aiming his maw for the heroes face.

Intellitron watched in horror. But Justice Man did not look worried.

The hero’s hands went to his shoulder, unhooked his cape, and as the first embers escaped Dark Dragon’s maw, he wrapped the unbreakable fabric around the demon knight’s head.

The flames seared out and filled the cape, inflating it like a balloon. Justice Man pinched it to Dark Dragon’s neck, the demon swinging his claws blindly. Justice Man gently took flight, still holding the fabric, floating out of reach, then delivered a devastating elbow drop down through his cape onto the helm.

There was a clang and Dark Dragon almost tent pegged through the floor. The fire stopped, the cape-bag deflated, but Justice Man wasn’t done. He launched a salvo of punches and kicks against Dark Dragon’s head and chest, playing the dark armour like a steel drum.

“ENOUGH!” Dark Dragon exploded, literally, as an eruption of flames blasted out of him. Justice Man hurriedly wrapped his cape around himself, as Intellitron trusted his personal forcefield to take the heat.

“We might need some help, old friend,” Justice Man called, before a dark gauntlet, still hot from the flames, grabbed him by the throat and planted him on his back into the floor.

“I am done with you wretched heroes! This battle ends now!” Dark Dragon raised his arm and summoned a crimson sword. “DIE!”

Justice Man’s eyes went wide. “The sword!” he yelled. “Intellitron, the sword!” he cried, stopping the falling crimson blade with his telekinesis and a hand to Dark Dragon’s wrist.

Intellitron looked around and spotted the Sword of Songs. It was abandoned in the middle of the roof, not far from the injured Stealth Watcher. Before he could even run for it, Justice Man’s telekinesis reached out and flicked it across the roof towards him.

“Well… Here’s hoping this works,” Intellitron said fearfully, then took up the blade.

Again, there was a flash of light, this time as blue as Intellitron’s skin. When it cleared, Intellitron didn’t look much different, only now his head was slightly bigger.

“What is this?” Dark Dragon paused mid-murder, eyeing the former villain curiously.

“I knew you had it in you, Intellitron!” Justice Man praised.

“Of course you knew, and I knew you knew. I know so much now,” Intellitron said, suddenly speaking in a posh accent for no adequately explored reason. “In fact, I know many ways to beat Dark Dragon. Such as, you could tie him to something heavy and throw him off a bridge. Bridges like the Southeast Bridge, the Northeast Bridge, Hero City Bridge…” He continued to list bridges.

“Um… Intellitron? What’s happening?” Justice Man queried.

“The South Sea Bridge, the Lost Bridge of Greystoke. Oh, this?” he stopped listing bridges to answer. “Well, it seems my inner strength has always been my intellect, even if my ego sometimes gets in the way. As such, the sword has increased my intelligence significantly, and allowed me to access every piece of information I have seen, heard, or even thought of. To tell you the truth it’s a little… overwhelming. Awe-inspiring, breath-taking, spectacular, remarkable, astonishing, shocking, dreadful, frightful, alarming, frightening, worrisome.” He fell to his knees, still reciting synonyms.

“Oh no,” Justice Man sighed. He looked up to see Dark Dragon’s fist. “Oh no!”

Dark Dragon smashed his head into the gravel.

“And now to be rid of this annoyance.” Dark Dragon got to his feet and wandered towards Intellitron.

Lucy Washburn, who’d been stood to the side and considering giving a play-by-play to Chief McElroy over the radio, saw that she was the only one left. Gritting her teeth, she sprinted forwards, stopped beside Intellitron, and emptied another clip into Dark Dragon’s armour.

“Am I seriously the only one still standing?” she yelled over her own gunfire.

Dark Dragon barely flinched, walking slowly towards her. When she ran out of bullets and went to reload, the villain raised a finger and fired a single spark down the barrel of her pistol, blowing the slide clean off it.

Lucy stood there holding half a smoking gun, with a paralysed former supervillain who was currently reciting brands of semi-automatic pistols, and Dark Dragon mere paces away. With nothing more to offer, she just stepped back.

Dark Dragon stopped over Intellitron, curled his fingers, and readied a deathblow punch.

“Die, Intellitron.”

“Die, expire, decease, end,” Intellitron ranted helplessly.

“BOSS!”

Dark Dragon’s fist fell, and a face got in the way. Henchman 14 leapt between them, taking the punch full on, almost landing on Intellitron as he stumbled back, still on his feet.

“Only the…” 14 spat out a tooth. “Only the second hardest I’ve ever been punched.” He wobbled.

“How many time do I have to put you down?!” Dark Dragon snarled furiously, and began to beat 14 like a speedbag, the henchman taking the assault with surprising tenacity.

Lucy watched the horrendous display, but forced herself to be pragmatic. Intellitron was still listing words that meant dead, and functionally useless, so she crouched down and levered the Sword of Songs from his hand using her broken pistol.

“-Perished, out of date, worm food- AH,” he gasped in relief, finally free. “Too much knowledge. Not doing that again.”

“Do you have a plan, Intellitron, because we’re getting our asses kicked?” Lucy shouted.

Intellitron looked up, and then around at the fallen heroes. Justice Man was just about stirring, Stealth Watcher was slumped over in the fetal position, Omi and Cron were individually just about standing, leaning against the edges of the roof, and Judgement had just appeared beside Cron, having flown back from the other building.

“Pray?” Intellitron suggested, getting back to his feet.

“Don’t give up, Intellitron,” Justice Man yelled tiredly. “This is what heroes do.”

“And who said I was a hero?” Intellitron quipped, then readied for battle anyway.

Dark Dragon finally stopped pummelling 14, having delivered forty or fifty punches to the unlucky henchman. Henchman 14, battered, bruised, and bleeding from three different places, barely balancing on his feet, lifted a hand with one finger raised.

“Alright,” he said through a swollen lip. “You might be number one now.” He collapsed to the floor.

Dark Dragon glowered at the beaten henchman, then turned to the others. Justice Man, Judgement and Intellitron were on their feet, while Omi and Cron were still struggling to keep theirs. Stealth Watcher was still collapsed, but started to move as he noticed the others.

“One final stand,” Dark Dragon hissed. “How pitiful?”

Justice Man and Judgement attacked first, taking to the air, doing the flying equivalent of limping. Intellitron meanwhile took the initiative and converted his arm back to a cannon, this time with rapid fire. He peppered Dark Dragon with bolts, as Omi, Cron, and Stealth Watcher groaned back to their feet. The bolts barely even scratched the furious supervillain, but gave the heroes just enough time to gather themselves.

“Charge!” Justice Man led with a wheeze.

What followed was not as dramatic as the heroes had planned. Beaten and bruised, they weren’t exactly dynamic. Justice Man and Judgement were slow and tired, and only managed a few punches before retreating. Cron snuck up behind Dark Dragon, arms around him, but was too sore to suplex the knight, and wound up getting an elbow to the stomach. Omi and Stealth Watcher fired projectiles from range, one producing smoke bombs, the other just throwing stars, but the hits achieved nothing at all, so the two heroes could only give up.

“More pitiful than I expected,” Dark Dragon mocked.

“Yeah, kind of,” Stealth Watcher agreed.

“Then it is time to put you out of your misery.”

Dark Dragon attacked, as the heroes gamely fought back. Tired and hurt, they weren’t going down without a fight, the groups trying to work together. But Dark Dragon was fast, strong, and furious. It was a losing battle. Every attack seemed inches from fatal. With a sweep of a leg, Dark Dragon pinned Justice Man, claws raised to kill, before Intellitron leapt in and fired a plasma ball point-blank into his back. The demon knight barely flinched, but span around to uppercut Intellitron back across the arena, as Stealth Watcher pulled Justice Man clear.

“It isn’t enough,” Intellitron panicked, picking himself up again. “We need more heroes.”

“Or something better than a hero, like the military or something?” Lucy argued.

“Something other than a hero…” Intellitron trailed off.

The last remnants of the magical superintelligence were still leaving his mind, like cobwebs being dusted. His thoughts caught the last hint of one idea. A plan he’d come up with buried amongst the madness and synonyms.

He looked over to Henchman 14, who was already lifting his battered torso onto two hands.

“That’s it!” Intellitron gasped, then sprinted across the roof. As he passed, he picked up the Sword of Songs safely with his robot hand, and headed for his henchman.

Dark Dragon noticed him go for the sword. He lazily launched a fireball at him while boxing with Justice Man.

Intellitron saw it coming, but couldn’t stop. Frantically, he reeled back and yelled; “14! Catch!” And threw the sword to him.

The fireball exploded metres away, and sent Intellitron hurtling back. Dark Dragon tracked the sword’s arc, decked Justice Man in the chin stunning him, and ran after the weapon.

“This. Ends. Here!” Dark Dragon bellowed, reaching for the blade, readying a burning fist.

14 staggered to his feet, half-blind from swelling, tasting blood, and every single muscle and bone he possessed aching. But Intellitron had given him an order. The sword landed a pace away from him, embedding blade first in the roof. He stumbled forwards and his hands landed on the hilt, leaning on it for support.

And then Dark Dragon’s fist met his face.

There was a crack like thunder, and 14 fell limp. His hands were still on the sword, his body dangling off of it like a fallen flag. There was a terrible silence…

Then he began to pull himself up.

There was a flash of white light.

It flowed from the sword, up 14’s arms and into his skin. Before everyone’s eyes, his cuts and bruises healed, his Hawaiian shirt and brown shorts became a leotard of white and black checkers, pauldrons and a helmet formed about his head and shoulders, each patterned to look like brick walls, and the outfit was finished with a black cape draped down his back.

“Why won’t you die?!” Dark Dragon roared, slashing through the glow with five sharpened claws. They met skin, 14 flinched back, and the glow faded.

The claws hadn’t even scratched him.

“What?!” Dark Dragon said in mild alarm.

“That… was weak,” 14 said, as utilitarian as could be. “And I should know, because I’ve been punched by every damn hero in the game. So you, Dark Dragon, can BUGGER OFF!”

14 slashed the Sword of Songs and carved a vertical chunk from Dark Dragon’s armour. Dark Dragon recoiled, grasping the wound in his chest, but barely had time to think before the blade came back down. It erupted with shining silver light as it fell, doubling, tripling in length. The demon knight leapt aside, to safety, and 14 didn’t even try to pursue.

The henchman just smiled.

The energy blade came down like a guillotine, the silver glow extending into a lance of glorious white fire. It was almost a hundred metres long. And it wasn’t aimed at Dark Dragon. The energy crashed through the demon’s radio tower, crushing the mast, the crystals, and all the machinery, hammering the entire structure like a peg into the building below.

“Attack, break stuff, win,” 14 said smugly. “So, what to break next?”

* * *

Not too far below, the sounds of battle rattled the building. From much further below, the war in the streets echoed up. Many of the demons looked about, wondering if they should aid their master above or help the cultists below, but in the end did neither as they had been set to their tasks of guarding the supervillains. The cultists amongst them though were a little more nervous, wondering about escape routes, but trying their best not to look disobedient.

Madame Mechanism remained at her console, scoping out her surroundings. Like a viper, she awaited her moment to strike. The cultists patrolled at regular intervals, the demons keeping to their posts, and as far as she could tell every villain in the city was in the building. She just needed the right moment to get started.

That was when the radio tower power-bombed through the roof, straight into the portal arch.

Well, it was as good a signal as any.

As various levels of security rushed to keep control, Mechanism made her move. Her nanomachines swarmed, her gloves became energy cannons, and she stun blasted five cultists as they ran past. She then leapt onto a computer bank, which gave her a view down the centre of the gutted tower, the dozens of enslaved villains looking up at her with the collapse above.

She stood before them, blue armour shining, all the demons paused like they were holding their breath.

This would have to be one hell of a speech.

“My fellow villains, hear me now,” she began, her tech amplifying her voice for all to hear. “Screw Dark Dragon!”

The air held tensely. Supervillains and monsters alike watched her. Then, slowly, like a gathering chant, came a shifting mumble throughout the tower.

“Yeah! Screw Dark Dragon!” The Torch agreed.

“He’s not the boss of me!” Winter Lord nodded.

“STATEMENT EQUALS TRUE,” Annihilator buzzed.

The tower was awash with new rebellion, the cultists and demons already trying to contain it. It just needed a little something more to get it to bubble over.

“Let’s wreck this joint!” Mechanism called, punching the air.

“YEAH!” answered a collective cry throughout the tower, and all hell broke loose.

Annihilator leapt off his wheel and tackled a nearby demon. Winter Lord froze a group of cultists, while Torch sent another group running under a hail of fireballs. Below, Bank Breaker could be heard ripping up paper, while Trickster bounced free from his pedal machine, grabbed a cultist’s face between his toes, said “Got your nose”, and bounced away. The cultist immediately fell into a panic trying to retrieve it.

That was easy, Tessa thought to herself. But that wasn’t the end.

Above, through the hole that had been punched in the ceiling, the sounds of battle roared. Dust fell as blows shook the building.

“Hmmm,” Mechanism wondered. “If I know Jude, she’ll be up in the thick of that.”

The cogs turned in Tessa’s brain.

“Nano? Build me a full battle suit, armed to the teeth, and with a self sustaining power cell. Then, detach from me.”

Mechanism’s silver backpack beeped curiously, then began to rattle and shake. Her hands became multi-barrelled machine blasters, the plating across her torso increased in size and density, becoming a suit of azure knight’s armour, and finally, the backpack was forced up and away from her back as a power cell the size of a keg formed beneath it.

With a snap, the pack detached to the floor, scuttling on legs formed from the straps. A little question mark appeared on a monitor where the pack’s face would be.

“I need you to do something, Nano. Go to the roof and give Judgement Chemical Sample 2C.”

Another question mark appeared.

“Because she needs help. Now do it!”

An X appeared.

“Look, I know you’re not fond of her-”

A Tongue Out emoji confirmed this.

“But if you don’t, and she gets hurt, then I’ll put you to work making paperclips for the rest of your natural life! And with a power cell like yours, that’ll be a long, long life.”

The X returned defiantly.

“What? I… alright…” Mechanism sighed. “You do this, I’ll stop forgetting to polish you.”

Three dots. Thinking. Then an up arrow.

“More?” Mechanism’s eyes narrowed. “Now you’re pushing it.”

Up arrow, up arrow, up arrow.

Mechanism sighed again. “Please, for Jude? For me?”

Three dots. A checkmark.

“Good boy! Remember, Sample 2C. Now get going.”

The pack scuttled off, climbing rafters and poles towards the new skylight.

“Have to fix that thing’s personality routines,” Mechanism considered as she watched it go.

Her thoughts were broken as a whip clanged against her armour and almost knocked her down. She turned to see Vanserox, the bird headed demon, staring at her.

“Oh, it is on!” she proclaimed, and opened fire.

* * *

On the roof, the dust cleared, and the heroes all looked on in shock. Dark Dragon stared at the hole that had once been a radio tower, his masterplan. Meanwhile 14 was investigating his new outfit, with a look of mild disgust.

“Urgh… At least it doesn’t have a cape…” 14 glanced back and saw the black fabric hanging down to his ankles. “Oh, damn it all,” he scowled.

“RAAAARGH!” Dark Dragon exploded.

His crimson aura erupted, turning from an ominous glow to a full blown inferno, his abyssal roar tinged with a shrill banshee scream, the very sound rattling the building. Then, with his eyes glowing like two red sunlamps, he summoned two swords and leapt at Henchman 14.

14, understandably, took a few steps back.

Like a berserker, Dark Dragon howled and crimson blades swung, his fiery swords slashing at 14’s torso. 14 dodged the first, the second met the Sword of Songs with a clang, but Dark Dragon continued to slash wildly, cooking the air between them.

Then 14 stepped on his cape and stumbled.

14 wobbled on his feet and Dark Dragon charged. With a deafening roar, both swords slashed into 14’s stomach… and stopped dead in their tracks.

“Oof!” 14 grunted, barely winded. “Oh, right… Indestructible. Good to have that confirmed.”

14 swung an arm and clonked Dark Dragon’s head with the Sword of Song’s pommel, breaking the warrior’s stance, then kicked him in the chest hard enough to launch him several yards.

“Super strength too. That’s good.” 14 twirled the blade in one hand, then smirked at the demon knight stooping before him.

“How?” Dark Dragon snarled, his eyes burning. “How have you done this? How have you been granted this power? You are no one!”

“No one?” 14 raised an incredulous eyebrow. “I’ve been in this business longer than pretty much anyone on this roof, pal. Hell, I’ve been doing this since before you came back, you coal coated cretin… My god that was a stupid insult. I hope ‘Heroic Wit’ isn’t contagious.”

Dark Dragon narrowed his eyes. “Decades of service to a blue skinned fool, but in all that time you have achieved nothing. Just a shadow on someone else’s stage. A worthless little fool, with no will of his- ARGH!”

14 cut him off, sprinting and carving a fresh score across his armoured stomach.

“Poor villains get caught monologuing, DD. Thought you were better than that. I mean, you’re normally so taciturn,” 14 smirked as Dark Dragon retreated to a safe distance.

“Now, when it comes to me, I am not nothing,” the henchman said firmly. “I’m a lifetime henchman who has spent every single day knowing my place in this performance we call Hero City. And no, I’m not the star centre stage, but I do keep things moving behind the scenes. I draw the curtains and work the trapdoors. But, to abandon the laboured metaphor, I know my role, and I’m happy to serve. I’ve served though it meant spending the last twenty years dealing with every obnoxious, overzealous, trumped-up, delusional caped-crusader this city can throw, and that’s not even talking about all the rival villains like you, DD. I have been punched out, thrown through walls, shot, beaten, broken and bashed by every so-called hero under the sun, but every time, every single time, I got back up. I came back. I kept working. Because, even though I questioned it with every broken bone, I knew this was what I wanted to do. To serve Intellitron. To make the world better, in his way. And even when that failed, even when we lost, I at least knew we might have put some wretched hero, so full of ego and pomp, in their god damned places.”

14 locked eyes with the demon.

“And now here you are, DD. Too big for your boots. Head too swollen for your helmet.”

The henchman squared his shoulders and held his sword two handed.

“So, to save this city, let’s dance, you black metal bastard!”

14 rushed him, blade twirling, a smarmy grin on his face.

Brass met crimson blade, as 14 chopped and sliced. Not exactly a skilled swordsman, his ineptitude in the field was made up for by the fact he was indestructible. Dark Dragon tried to parry, riposte, guard, and counter, but 14 wouldn’t play. With no need to dodge, crimson blades bouncing off of him, he just kept attacking, chopping blindly, leaving Dark Dragon only room to guard.

Eventually, 14 reeled back and swung the sword like a baseball bat. Dark Dragon raised both blades to block, crossed them, and took the hit head on. This quickly revealed itself as a mistake, as the crimson blades split like breadsticks, shattering into scarlet flames, and paved the way for 14’s sword to carve a chunk out of Dark Dragon’s helmet.

Dark Dragon fell back, landing in a pile of himself. With a groan of metal and pain, he struggled to his feet, a stream of black smoke pouring from his wound in place of blood. His eyes glowered, still burning with rage… but they were different. The arrogance was gone.

There was fear there now.

“So, DD, how about ending this peacefully? Surrender, we take you to jail, you break out a while later like villains normally do?” 14 offered, resting his sword on his shoulders.

“I will not be felled by some pitiful insect,” Dark Dragon accused.

“Pitiful?” 14 objected. “No need to pity me. I’ve got a pretty good life, you goth pedal bin!”

“I will not fall here… I will not! If I cannot face The Choir… if I cannot face my true enemy… Then I will do what my portal failed to do. I will level this city by force!”

Again, Dark Dragon’s aura erupted into flames. Within the flames, his armour buckled and shifted, plates moving and taking new shape. His form swelled, doubling, then tripling and quadrupling in size. When the horrid transformation was finally complete, a beast stood before them. A massive actual dragon, with vast crimson wings and two extra heads extending from where the shoulder plates used to be. The creature stood on four legs thick as tree trunks, its tail lashing around and covered in blades. Even so, the beast’s torso was scarred and black smoke poured from a fractured horn on its middle head.

“THIS CITY WILL FACE ITS END AT LAST! AND I WILL BE ITS EXECUTIONER!” the monster roared, its voice sounding as if an abyss could talk, arriving in their minds without passing through the air first.

The beast spread its wings, flapped once like a hurricane, and took to the air, screeching into the night.

“Bugger…” 14 cursed, staring after it.

The rest of the heroes, and one former supervillain, had all been watching in stunned silence. They suddenly stirred to life.

“An impressive showing,” Justice Man proclaimed, slapping 14 on the back.

“Alright,” Cron said excitedly. “We can put this in the bag. We just need to take that overgrown lizard down. Who’s with me?” He held up a triumphant fist.

“The rest of us can provide support,” Omi agreed. “Today, we defeat Dark Dragon!”

“Yeah!” everyone agreed in unison.

“And then, we get that sword back to Melody Planker,” Judgement added, looking nervously at the powered up 14.

“Yeah!” everyone agreed again.

“One problem,” 14 said, very much in a tone to drain excitement. “I can’t fly.” He pointed up at the currently airborne Dark Dragon.

“Oh…” everyone deflated.

“I brought the hover throne?” Intellitron offered. “Only problem, his focus will be on you and it isn’t exactly manoeuvrable. One hit and you’re sunk.”

“Same would be true of the helicopter,” Omi nodded.

“And I need that to get down from here,” Detective Washburn added sharply.

“Then I see no other option,” Justice Man said grandly. “I will carry him.”

“Pardon me?” 14 looked alarmed.

“I will carry you aloft on my shoulders, and together we will best this tyrant.” He looked 14 in the eye, giving a gentle smile. “While I may not remember you, henchman, Intellitron says we have met many times. As such, you must know that I will not let you fall. So, do you trust me, Henchman 14?”

Intellitron put his hand to his forehead, while most of the other heroes just furrowed their brows at the mental image. 14 just stared at Justice Man. Then he looked to the massive dragon overhead, then back to Justice Man.

“Let’s do this,” the henchman accepted tiredly.

“Huzzah!” Justice Man celebrated, then lowered to offer his shoulders.

“But not on your shoulders. You’re carrying me under your arm with your super strength. No way am I riding you into battle like a horse.”

“You’d prefer to be carried like a football?” Cron queried.

“Honestly, yes,” 14 nodded, then stood beside Justice Man patiently.

Justice Man wrapped an arm around 14’s waist, then with a testing hover to adjust his grip, held on firmly. When both were happy, and more specifically 14 stopped complaining, they took off into the sky after Dark Dragon.

“Omi! To the hoverbikes!” Cron announced.

“Already calling them,” Omi pulled a device from his belt.

“Good luck with that,” Intellitron bid, getting into the hover throne and taking off in pursuit.

“Detective Washburn, shall we pursue?” Stealth Watcher offered, pointing to the helicopter.

“Only at a distance. I’m not going to pretend that we’re anything more than spectator’s at this point,” Lucy agreed.

“Judgement? You coming?” Stealth Watcher turned.

“I don’t know what I can even do against that monster,” Judgement said gravely. “I hit him with everything I had and I couldn’t even scratch him. And now he’s a giant dragon to boot.”

“They still need your help, Judgement. You just need to provide an opening for 14, or anyone really,” Stealth Watcher reassured.

“I know… It’s just-” Judgement stopped, as something tapped her leg.

By her ankle was a small metal backpack, walking around on its straps.

“Oh! Hello there,” she recognised Madame Mechanism’s machine.

Behind her, Stealth Watcher and Washburn headed off without her, as she stooped down to examine the pack.

“What are you doing here?”

It beeped, and showed the letters S.O.S.

“You’re here to help?” she intuited.

It beeped again and a small drawer opened on its front. There was a canister inside that resembled an aerosol.

“Tessa wants me to have this? What is it?”

The screen displayed: Chemical Sample 2C

“That… doesn’t really help me.”

The screen displayed leaves.

“Okay. It’s some kind of plant. What kind?”

More leaves.

“That doesn’t narrow it down! Bloody machines…”

The pack recoiled, taking offence, but held the course. Its screen changed again, this time displaying a white candy with a red swirl on it.

“A sweet? Why would Tessa-” The answer struck her. “Peppermint…”

Multiple tick marks and celebratory trumpets appeared on the screen.

“God… I can’t believe Tessa would consider this…” Judgement gingerly picked up the aerosol, holding it like a volatile grenade. “She knows what this stuff does to me.”

The pack showed an arrow pointing up towards Dark Dragon.

“Yeah… Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Judgement agreed. “For the city.”

She took the aerosol and sprayed it in her face.

The effects were immediate. The spray soaked in, and within seconds her skin began to change colour. From its usual dark-brown, to more of a walnut, to tan, then straight through yellow, all the way to gold. Her skin glowed like the real sun, her powers untamed, her allergy to the minty substance setting the power loose.

“You, get back to Tessa,” she told the pack, her voice echoing with raw power.

The pack didn’t need telling twice. It scurried away.

“Meanwhile, let’s show Dark Dragon what I can really do.”

She took off like a rocket, leaving scorched footprints on the roof behind her.

* * *

Back inside the tower, all hell had broken loose. Villains fighting demons and cultists, the demons armed with hellfire, the cultists armed with whatever weapons they could find, while the villains were armed with superpowers and super technology.

So far, the demons were winning.

Initially, the frenzied riot had given the villains the edge. A few demons were destroyed outright, a dozen cultists went to flee, and the villains pressed the advantage.

Then the demons began to organise.

Spread across the floors of the tower, a few whip cracks, an array of echoing commands, and a firm order for a demon to bar the doors, and everything started to turn their way. They all followed Vanserox. The cultists, now unable to leave, fell into order, armed themselves, and went to fight. To the demons it was second nature, living as servants to Dark Dragon. The villain’s were having a harder time. Most of them were selfish, cruel, and misanthropic by nature, so teamwork didn’t really feel like an option. They were soon divided and would fall.

And they were getting their asses handed to them too.

Madame Mechanism crouched behind a control panel, cultists shooting, two demons throwing fire, and their supposed commander, Vanserox, stood amongst it all readying his whip.

“Flank her,” the bird headed demon commanded. The cultists fell into lock-step.

Mechanism groaned, but took the moment to assess her situation. Here she was, huddled behind a control panel, about to be flanked and shot. To one side was Annihilator, a demon was sitting on him, his glass globe head being spun on the demon’s finger like a basketball.

No help there.

To the other side were Winter Lord and Torch, who were pinned down behind some pipes, the pair playing rock-paper-scissors to decide which of them would provide cover fire and who would run. They were both clearly cheating, and were already on their eighth game.

No help there either.

The only other villain on the floor was Trickster, who was currently flipping and bouncing around, a demon looking at him in absolute confusion.

Urgh… Definitely no help there either!

Mechanism stopped and processed the information.

“Alright, Tessa,” she said to herself. “How screwed are you?”

Fairly screwed, her thoughts answered.

“You’re getting flanked, and about to be shot.”

Well, her mind answered again, the cultists shouldn’t be a challenge. A high gauge sonic pulse and you can knock out both advancing sides.

“Alright, but what about the two demons providing hellfire support?”

Again, her mind continued, its tone optimistic, those demons shouldn’t be too tough. One has one leg, while the other is a lumbering oaf. A couple high density plasma blasts and they’re out cold… probably.

“Okay. What about Vanserox?”

Her mind was silent.

“No plans there then?”

Silence.

“Just winging it then,” Tessa confirmed. “It’s traditional.”

Hey, it works for the heroes.

“Sure… Now or never,” she braced, just as the cultists appeared either side of her cover.

They were armed with a collection of pipes, swords, and a couple of guns. It didn’t matter though. Mechanism charged her hand cannons, aimed for the centre of each group, and fired an orb of pure sound into each. The pulses exploded like a musical bomb, filling the air with deafening feedback noise, the cultists sent flying in a burst of sound.

Mechanism smiled.

She leapt from cover and sprinted. A fireball hit behind her, and another landed ahead. As the demons primed two more, she stopped, rolled, and flipped back the way she’d come. The two demons, one resembling a one legged manikin, the other a frog half melted, were both a little slow to react. Their fireballs landed where she was headed a moment ago, as she ran back to her cover. Two more blasts were thrown, and again, Tessa flipped, span, and sprinted back, heading in her original direction again. Again, the demons missed, their fireballs blowing chunks out of the control panel.

Mechanism kept moving. Still sprinting, she waited for the next volley. They landed ahead of her, until she flipped, span, and as the demons finally caught on and aimed behind her, Tessa activated her thrusters and took flight, hurtling straight towards the beasts.

She was halfway there before they noticed.

Her arm cannons charged and two blasts like miniature supernovas fired. One hit the frog demon, sending the flabby mess into the wall, splatting like a slug. The one legged demon meanwhile took the blast full to the chest, but rather surprisingly, it bent at the waist and sprung back up again, its single foot anchored to the ground.

“Crap!” Mechanism cursed, as the one legged demon prepared a fireball, and Vanserox swung his whip.

The hellfire shot first, missing her by inches, the dopey demon barely able to miss at this range. Vanserox meanwhile wasn’t a fool. He anticipated her dodge, and the whip ensnared her ankle, pulling her towards the pair.

Think quickly, Tessa, her mind screamed.

And she did.

Activating her thrusters, she jetted towards the demons, putting slack into Vanserox’s whip. It uncoiled from her leg, she slipped free, and flew upwards, charging another plasma blast. She landed the shot between Vanserox and his ally, where it exploded. Vanserox was barely ruffled, and the other hopped clear, bouncing on his solitary leg.

“Aha! You’ll never defeat Kibold the Balanced!” the one legged demon called, hopping proudly. “I have stood alongside Dark Dragon and never fallen. Never even tripped. And today will be no different. I will stand, and nothing will make me fa-AAAALLLLL,” he cried, as his foot slipped from under him and he tumbled down the central shaft of the tower.

Where his foot had been, lay a single yellow banana peel. Trickster sat nearby giggling.

Vanserox put a hand to his forehead and dragged it all the way to the end of his beak. He wordlessly drew his hand axes, tied one axe to his whip, and swung the makeshift chain-blade up at Mechanism.

“Crap!” Tessa swore, deactivating rockets and letting gravity take her. The axe scored the ceiling, then pulled down to pursue her. She rocketed and fired herself at Vanserox, but he was ready. She bounced feet first off the flat of his axe, landing before him as he reeled in his whip. Dodging the axe on the whip, she produced two energy blades from her wrists, and began to fight.

Blade met axe, but Tessa knew this wasn’t good. She was half his size, running low on power, and not exactly a master at close combat. But she knew she had to take him down. He was commanding the troops. If he died, panic would flood the enemy ranks.

She just needed to beat him.

But that wasn’t so easy. Vanserox was fast, managing to almost chop her legs a couple of times. He tripped her with his whip and sent her tumbling into a nest of cables.

“Crap, crap, crap,” Tessa grumbled. She heard bird taloned feet, but waited. She heard the feet spring, Vanserox flying at her. As he neared, Mechanism sprang upright and fired another plasma blast square into Vanserox’s chest.

Or at least, that had been the plan.

The blast hit the demon’s axes, blocking over his heart. Rather than explode, the ball just pushed against the blades, even as the demon landed in front of her.

She stood face to face with the plasma orb, which began to whine unstably.

“Oh, ultra-cra-” she managed to say, before it exploded and launched her into the wall.

Tessa wasn’t sure what happened next. She simply woke up, in pain, and her rear end embedded in a vent. Vanserox meanwhile barely looked scorched.

Madame Mechanism pulled herself free, aching, but landed on her feet. Very much aching. She looked around, hoping for a miracle. One didn’t seem likely. Torch and Winter Lord were still arguing, Annihilator was still inactive, and Trickster was currently messing with the demon sitting on Annihilator’s body, asking it about “Updog” and providing it with jars from his straitjacket to open, all of which contained spring snakes.

Straitjacket…

The word clicked and a plan formed. Trickster! She needed to get his attention.

She sprinted straight at Vanserox, but on the way picked up the banana peel. She scrunched it up, threw it, and with tactical aim, ricocheted it off a wall into Vanserox’s left shoulder.

“Don’t slip!” she teased. It was a bad pun, she knew, but she needed to be funny.

The demon turned, brushed off the peel, then crushed it underfoot. He didn’t even slip, just marching towards her.

Tessa continued to charge, firing a small rocket from her back. It flew up, over, then spiralled round, before it slowed, and rather than explode, it tapped the demon on the shoulder. The demon turned to see who’d tapped him, and just stared at the tiny projectile.

“Made you look!” Mechanism exclaimed, and fired a volley of plasma into his back.

Vanserox span, snarling, only taking the time to crush the missile between fingers. He swung his axes, carving the floor with the blades, as Tessa danced around him, trying to make it look fun. She needed to look fun!

Nearby, Trickster suddenly took a great interest. He started smiling. Giving the demon atop Annihilator a comically large finger-trap, he sprang off cartwheeling towards Mechanism.

“Wow, Mechanism! I didn’t think you liked practical jokes,” he said playfully, carelessly dodging the demon’s axes.

“I’m- I’m not very- good- at them” she gasped as she frantically dodged for her life. “Tell- you- what. Why don’t you show Vanserox your best one?!”

With an energy blade, she cut the bindings on his straitjacket.

“YIPPEE!” Trickster launched into the air, bouncing and dancing with his new range of movement. Vanserox looked on in confusion as the clown turned to him.

“Hey, Vanserox?” Trickster said.

“What?” the demon barked.

“What did the door say to the joke teller?”

“What are you on about?” the demon hissed.

“I don’t know, what did the door say to the joke teller?” Mechanism teed him up.

“It said… Knock knock,” Trickster finished, and with a flip, tapped both of Vanserox’s shoulders simultaneously.

Vanserox froze. Trickster landed with a happy grin. Tessa watched on with a mounting sense of dread, mainly because she knew why Trickster was forced to wear that straitjacket.

Vanserox began to shake, as if his body was fighting itself. Because it was. Like his head was trying to look over both shoulders simultaneously. Because it was! It was Trickster’s power. Any prank he played would work, no matter the logic. Even lowly pranks, such as “Got your nose” or “Look over there” or tapping someone on the shoulder and then not being there when they looked round. You’d look. And he’d tapped both shoulders. Simultaneously.

Vanserox looked.

With a rip, a bird-like shriek, and a series of anatomical sounds, Vanserox’s head turned in two directions at once. Messily. The demon lay dead, his head split down the middle.

“Good lord…” Mechanism swore.

“A double tap is double the fun!” Trickster proclaimed.

Below, various demons had looked up at the terrifying noises, and a few had witnessed Vanserox’s fate. But, just to drive the point home, Tessa pushed what was left of the slave driver down the central shaft, causing a vast amount of turmoil in the tower below.

“Who else wants a double tap?” Trickster asked innocently to everyone in earshot.

The turmoil turned into full-blown panic, and all structure in the enemy ranks collapsed.

The villains had the advantage.

* * *

The air cut past 14 and Justice Man as the glowing city stretched out below them. Above, the expansive form of Dark Dragon loomed. The demon’s three draconic heads were aimed together, an orb of hellfire forming between their maws. With a roar, the fireball screamed towards the city.

“I got it!” 14 called, channelling energy down the Sword of Songs, and firing a crescent of silver power through the fireball. The wave sliced it in two, blowing it up, and then took a chunk out of a high rise building behind it.

“Oops.”

“FOOLS!” Dark Dragon roared, diving at them.

“He really needs a thesaurus or something, doesn’t he?”

“Heads up,” Justice Man said casually, and threw 14 upwards.

Dark Dragon hurtled under 14 and over Justice Man, the air pulling at them like a jet. Justice Man gamely aimed his telekinesis and fired a beam of pure energy, barely blemishing Dark Dragon’s hide. 14 meanwhile just screamed. Dizzy, and spinning, and falling, he finally stopped when Justice Man caught him with his telekinesis.

“Oh god! Which way’s up?” 14 struggled, his eyes still spinning.

“Sorry. I thought you were ready for that,” Justice Man said.

“Why in the world would you think-” 14 stopped, genuinely too angry to keep arguing. “Forget it. Just get me close to Dark Dragon. And warn me if you’re going to do that again!”

“Understood.”

“Also, I know this was my idea, but why carry me under your arm? You have telekinesis?”

“It honestly didn’t occur to me.”

“Nor me,” 14 muttered angrily, but there was something in Justice Man’s sincerity. You couldn’t stay mad at the guy… for very long anyway… though 14 would certainly try.

“Just get after him.”

“Right,” Justice Man nodded, and sped off like a bullet, 14 floating alongside.

Dark Dragon swooped towards the city, four sets of talons aiming for a skyscraper. His claws cut the air, his reflection darkened its windows, and then Dark Dragon bounced off something. Like a very large fly hitting an even larger window, there was a blue shield between him and the building.

“WHAT IS THIS?!”

“A simple force field,” Intellitron announced, hovering up on his chair.

“YOU TRAITOROUS VILLAIN!”

“Hey! I retired from villainy years ago. Haven’t paid membership dues in a long time. You’ve got no power over me,” the former villain said proudly.

“DIE!” Dark Dragon roared, lunging at him.

“Other than your literal power… to kill me. Hmmm…” Intellitron realised. “Oh well.” He pointed a mechanical finger up. “But he’s got power over you.”

Justice Man and 14 dropped between the monster and Intellitron, and 14 fired another crescent of silver light. The wave cut clear through one of Dark Dragon’s shoulders, nearly severing his left most head.

“AHHH!” the beast roared in pain.

“Serves you right, attacking my boss, you big-“ 14 stopped, spitting and spluttering. “Gah! How do you flying heroes avoid getting bugs in your teeth?”

“You get used to it,” Intellitron soothed.

“DIE! YOU’LL ALL DIE!” Dark Dragon snarled, aiming all three maws at them. He breathed fire.

The inferno burned, but Intellitron pressed buttons and moved the forcefield. The fire coursed harmlessly over it, like they were watching the flames through a blue TV screen.

 “Thanks, boss,” 14 saluted.

“I couldn’t let my favourite henchman get burned… or my former nemesis,” Intellitron smiled.

“I’m your favourite?” 14 practically glowed.

“Um, chums?” Justice Man pointed after Dark Dragon, who had taken the distraction to flee. He was currently barrelling towards the pristine peak of the Pinnacle Building.

“I suppose we should catch up,” 14 suggested.

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t be the city’s biggest loss,” Intellitron debated.

“Intellitron!” Justice Man shot a judgmental look.

“They stole my tech once you know. And I’m pretty sure Cosmo co-owns it.”

“Intellitron…” Justice Man shook his head.

“Uh, guys? I would actually be pursuing him, but I don’t have independent movement in the sky,” 14 piped up.

“Oh, right,” Justice Man realised and gave chase.

They needn’t have bothered however, as a glowing yellow figure intercepted the demonic beast. Judgement flew like a rocket, energy blasting out of her feet, and overtook Dark Dragon, before performing a loop of the Pinnacle Building to swing back.

Like a comet, she crashed into Dark Dragon, planting a glowing set of knuckles between his middle pair of eyes. There was a clang like a building sized bell, the sound warped like tempering a drum as Judgement fired a follow-up energy blast into the demon’s ribs.

“YOU WRETCHED, VILE,-”

“Save it!” Judgement cut him off, punching his left head so hard that it smacked into the right one. She then swooped and delivered a phenomenal uppercut to the middle head, her glowing fist exploding with power and blinding light.

“RAAARGH!” Dark Dragon vanished in the brilliance.

When it cleared, both Judgement and the monstrous villain were still standing… or floating. As Judgement gasped, getting her breath back, she admired her work. But her heart sank, as she saw all she’d managed to do was crack one of Dark Dragon’s chins.

“Bugger,” she cursed. “Oh well.” She pointed behind the dark beast. “He’ll do better.”

14, Justice Man, and Intellitron hurtled up behind. 14 charged his sword, and in quick succession, fired three crescent waves. Each hit true, knocking the beast back, causing grunts of pain.

“14? Heads up?” Justice Man asked.

14 nodded. “Do it!”

Near Dark Dragon, Justice Man dove under, while 14 was thrown overhead. Two dragon heads looked down, one looked up, while 14 charged his sword mid-arc.

“Screw off, you big lizard!” 14 bellowed, and with a swing like thunder, brought his blade down on Dark Dragon’s spine.

14 dropped like a hammer. The sword struck, carved a gaping wound in Dark Dragon’s back, and sent the monster spinning, his wings useless as he tumbled. 14 stopped, caught by Justice Man’s telekinesis, and they watched as the titanic dragon fell.

14 looked down. He saw a certain building.

He saw a target. “Throw me at him,” he instructed.

Justice Man obeyed, launching the henchman.

“Batter up!” 14 cried, and with a swing of his sword, knocked Dark Dragon out of the sky. With an epic thud, the demon crashed into the roof of the Marigold Building. “Bullseye,” 14 grinned.

With grace and care, Justice Man, 14, Judgement and Intellitron landed beside the demon. They watched as the mass of demonic metal crunched and buckled, and gradually became the demonic knight Dark Dragon. His armour was punctured, black smoke poured out of a dozen different wounds, and one of his pauldrons was missing entirely.

“Hrrgh,” Dark Dragon groaned, glaring daggers at Henchman 14. “No. I will not fall to you!”

14 twirled his sword. “Good luck with that.”

14 threw the blade into his off-hand, curled his fingers into a fist, and with lightning speed, punched the demon knight halfway across the roof.

“God, I have been waiting to do that to someone else for twenty years!” the henchman cried.

“And now to end it,” Justice Man stepped forwards triumphantly.

“Yep. Send this monochromatic menace back to the hell he came from,” Judgement agreed.

“Monochromatic menace? God, the superhero insults are lethal,” 14 sighed.

“You’re telling me,” Intellitron smirked.

14 gave a laugh, twirled his blade back into his good hand, and advanced on Dark Dragon.

“No… NO! You cannot best me!” the demon screamed, struggling to his feet. “NO!”

He reached back, ripped a chunk of masonry from the roof, and hurled it. All the heroes leapt for cover, but 14 took it on the chin, stepping through the resultant cloud of dust.

“Sorry, DD. You can’t hurt me.”

“No! You are nothing! An insect!”

“Harsh coming from a tin soldier,” 14 mocked.

Dark Dragon stepped back but was running out of roof. With a hurried consideration, he bent his knees to leap back, ready to drop to the streets below.

A pair of muscled arms wrapped his wrist.

“Justice will prevail,” Justice Man called, holding Dark Dragon in place.

“Let. Me. Go!” Dark Dragon growled, trying to pull free. His other gauntlet flickered with fire, until his other wrist was wrenched in the opposite direction, gripped by glowing hands.

“I’ll spare you the pun about facing Judgement,” Judgement said proudly.

Justice Man and Judgement pulled, holding their enemy down. But Dark Dragon paid neither any attention. His focused hatred was still on 14.

“I will not be defeated by you!” he hollered.

The demon raised both arms, lifting Justice Man and Judgement like ragdolls.

“You are no one. Just a hired lackey!”

He swung the heroes and smashed their torsos together.

“You aren’t even an individual!”

The pair fell limp, Dark Dragon throwing them both away.

“You’re merely a number! Not even a name!”

14 smiled.

“I am more than just a number, Dark Dragon. I am a crony, and a goon, and I’ve even been a thug at times. But my name is not a number.”

He primed his sword.

“My name is Edmond Fortnight! And you will remember it!”

With a single thrust, he buried the Sword of Songs into Dark Dragon’s heart.

“But you can call me Henchman 14.”

14 pulled the sword, metal grating on metal, leaving a gaping hole in Dark Dragon’s chest. Dark Dragon fell to his knees, clutching the wound, and with one last hateful glare, his eyes went out. Dead.

The body fell, and for a moment was still. Then searing red lightning danced across the armour. As 14 watched, the power poured out into a pillar of crimson light. Dark Dragon’s lifeless form rose into the air, sparked and convulsed in the light, and finally, with a literal bang, it detonated, sending shards of black metal to every corner of the roof.

Justice Man hid under his cape, while Intellitron generated a small barrier around himself and Judgement, the projectiles just bouncing off Henchman 14. As they all stood, examining the scene, it finally sunk in.

“We did it…” Judgement said in shock.

“That we did,” Intellitron confirmed, placing a hand on her shoulder, then hurriedly took it off as her golden glow heated his metal.

All four stood in wrapt silence… which was broken as two hoverbikes swooped in.

“Get ready, Dark Dingus, because Omi and Cron…” The pair stopped and examined the scene. “Aw man! Did we miss it?” Cron complained.

“I knew we shouldn’t have left the bikes at home,” Omi said irately. “Well, at least we can give you guys a lift to the ground.”

* * *

Omi and Cron parked up their bikes, as everyone who was flying worked out who was getting carried. Meanwhile, Lucy and Stealth Watcher landed in the helicopter, which mostly solved the issue, and 14 decided without question to ride with them.

Judgement, after venting some of her excess energy, finally stopped glowing, but was already suffering the after effects of her allergy, her nose bunged up and a headache coming on. Damn peppermint, she thought. Her phone buzzed and she read the incoming text.

Hi. Day saved? Tessa’s text asked.

Yep. Day saved. Explain later, Jude answered.

Good. Anyone still atop Cosmo Tower?

No. We’re over on the Marigold building now.

Good. BTW, you might want to look.

Judgement looked, just in time to hear the rumble. Across the skyline, Cosmo Tower shook, wobbled precariously, and with an ear shattering bang, it collapsed straight down like a house of cards, leaving a gap in the skyline where it had been.

Jude’s phone buzzed again.

Now anything Cosmo had on us is gone too. XX.

* * *

The heroes descended, landing near the new ruins of Cosmo Tower. Despite the size of the building, the rubble had only fallen inward, and by the look of things no one had been hurt.

Sanctimony led the heroes, gathering cultists who had escaped the tower. There was also a parade of demons, orderly lined up, with Sanctimony using mystical paperwork and form filling to send them back to their home dimension.

Of course, the press swarmed the border. Questions abound, Justice Man, Sanctimony and a few others stepped forwards to answer them. Meanwhile anyone who neared Detective Washburn got a badge in their face and a death stare. 14 stayed near her.

“So… you actually did it,” she said in a side-eyed way.

“I’m just as shocked as you,” 14 chuckled.

“They’ll be singing your praises by morning.”

“Oh, don’t remind me. Maybe they won’t recognise me once I put down this stupid sword,” he consoled himself. “They never have before.”

“You can only hope. Still, it was very impressive,” Lucy complimented half-heartedly. “Chief McElroy will certainly want a full debrief.”

14 looked aghast. “Oh no, detective. I know how much of a fanboy he is!”

Lucy smiled. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on subjecting you to him, 14. We should talk in a more informal setting. A bar or something. Just the two of us.”

“Just a casual drink?” 14 checked.

“A formal drink, yes. I’ll still be on duty after all.”

14 understood. “A formal, everyday sort of drink. Not like a date in any way whatsoever.”

Lucy shot a glare that could peel paint. “Listen here, you little-”

“Woah, woah!” he raised his hands in surrender. “Just messing with you, Washburn. Just a joke. It’ll be an official debrief between two people who respect one another. That’s all.”

Lucy maintained the glare, then slowly let it go. She produced a business card.

“Get whatever you need doing sorted, then call me. Try not to take too long.”

“Speak to you soon,” he accepted the card.

“Oh, and Ed? Stay out of trouble… as best you can anyway,” she bid with a final smile, then moved to join up with the local officers.

As 14 watched the crowds, and Sanctimony handled the press, Justice Man giving a small speech, Intellitron subtly shuffled over to his henchman, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. And as 14 watched the flash of cameras, the heroes cleaning up, and his boss at his side, it finally hit him.

He’d saved the day. It was over. Hero City was safe. He had done it!

He was a hero.