Cassandra leaned against her cushioned chair, lazily sipping the chardonnay in her glass as she watched the entertainment the Pit had for them. Sure, there were closer seats down by the action, but there was something so satisfying about being above everyone else. Besides, it was pretty much expected for a villain of her status to have her own suite in the Pit, so that she could not only relax but mingle with all the other suite owners.

  Which were all other Supes because power was the only wealth Cesar dealt in.

  She hadn’t made a habit of lounging around the Pit as much as some of her peers. For them, it was a social call and a brilliant chance to secure new ventures without risking a limb. For her, it was more a botherance. Cassandra knew exactly where she sat on the pecking order and she was perfectly aware she wasn’t near the top of Venus City.

  Let alone the Federation.

  Coming to the Pit tended to be just a reminder of that fact, but today, things were a little different. She had a horse in the race and an ex-boyfriend to beat, and so far, the supervillainess was liking her chances. It was just…

  “The little shit lied to me,” Cassandra whispered to herself, watching him and his little teammate celebrate. She’d been under the impression he had a revenge power that made him stronger and that had clearly been a lie.

  The use of guns was expected, and Luke seemed to have a semi-superhuman element to his movement but nothing a revenge power wouldn’t explain. The flaming rainbow sprinkles and the moonlight that supercharged Fangtooth, however, were a bit harder to explain. It was a pretty cool trick, she had to admit, and it had drawn a lot of excitement from the whole audience.

  You're lucky you’re outshining the robot.

  She was very tempted to hike up his rent just for lying to her because, clearly, Luke had wanted regular revenge on Puck and manipulated her into helping. In a way, she was almost proud. Cassandra was tempted to get up from her snug chair and go cheer him on a little when she heard the door to her suite squeak open.

  The supervillainess didn’t need to turn to know who it was, evident by how her smile slowly turned into a scowl.

  “It’s not often us Pit regulars are graced with the presence of Bloom herself,” a deep, almost tombstone voice said as a man walked into the room, accompanied by the ever-present chill that followed him. “I must say, I’m deeply curious to know why you’ve come.”

  “Damian.”

  “Cass,” Damian replied, walking over to her. The cold that came with him would’ve made any normal person shiver. “So curt, even after I sold out on of my own for your little project. You wound my heart.”

  That made Casssandra scoff. “You don’t have a heart, certainly not anywhere under that suit.”

  “Rude,” Damian said, although his expression didn’t betray any hint of being offended. “You wound me.”

  He sat down beside her without asking, as was usual with Damian, sporting that same dark blue three-piece and combed-back icy white hair Cassandra had come to expect from him. Damian, better known as Crypt to the outside world, was always the picture of neatness, never letting even a hair stray onto his suits. He liked things clean, and he hated chaos of any form.

  His crystal blue eyes studied her as he made himself comfortable, pouring some of her wine for himself. Sometimes Cassandra wondered just how much soul was hidden in those eyes, behind the greed and cold calculations.

  Whatever the case, Cassandra made sure to let her vines slowly slither down the walls and infest the floor around them. They always unsettled him, and that was exactly how she wanted him. Rattled.

  “Why are you here?” She asked, knowing the answer.

  “You know why.” He responded, taking a measured sip of his wine. He was petty enough to drink her wine but still paranoid enough to worry if it was poisoned. “Must I say it out loud?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine then, what’s his name?” Damian asked.

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Cassandra replied, grinning.

  “The little villain who had some ‘private dealings’ with Puck. The one you seemed to have adopted as your pet or whatever strange relationship the two of you may share.” The Fixer expanded, looking more and more frustrated as he did so.

  “Is that jealousy I hear?” Cassandra teased, enjoying his frustration.

  “Look, you clearly see this as some sort of game, or you wouldn’t have brought him here,” Damian replied. “So just spit it out.”

  Should she? Or should she keep winding her ex-boyfriend up? Despite how outward appearance might make him seem, Cassandra always found him easy to wind up. An OCD crime boss tended to not be the calmest of individuals.

  Then again, maybe it was childish to withhold all the information from him. He had sold out Puck for her even if he was already going to get rid of the Supe muscle anyway.

  “He’s just an acquaintance,” Cassandra said, gazing out into the open sky above. “But he is my acquaintance, and he’s certainly more interesting than that robot you brought. Maybe so much so that the emperor’s favour will fall to me.”

  “You never cease to be a thorn in my side,” Damian grumbled, sipping his wine. “Cesar’s favour is one thing, but I know Borg will beat him out in the end.”

  “So then why did you come here, if you’re ever so confident?” Cassandra questioned.

  “How much?” Damian asked, cutting through the playfulness between them.

  “For?” She clarified.

  “V. How much do I have to cut out of my territory to get him?”

  Ah. So that was why he’d come. It wasn’t to jeer and rant about how much better his participant was than hers. It was because he wanted Luke, for whatever reason. Well, that was going to be a bit of a problem. Because Cassandra hadn’t been lying, they really were nothing more than acquaintances. She hadn’t given him enough to have any reasonable stake over his future in E.R.A.O’s eyes, so she couldn’t exactly barter him away.

  You could barter less Supes if you’d spent enough resources on them for them to be considered your minions, but she’d only really given him passing help. In all honesty, that was part of the reason she was more reluctant to help him to begin with. She didn’t need the stress of being tied up with an asset she didn’t control and also had no intention of taking advantage of his ignorance.

  There was also his personality to consider. Something about Luke struck Cassandra as the type not to take orders.

  “I don’t have a stake in him,” Cassandra said with a smile. “You’re certainly welcome to try.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Damian said, immediately holding his hands up like she’d said something crazy. “You’re telling me a kid who can make moonlight came to you for help, and you didn’t lock him into a contract?”

  Cassandra just shrugged, which only seemed to incense Damian more.

  He stood, kicking away the nearest vine that slithered towards him. There was something between disbelief and disdain in his eyes as he stormed out of the room, mumbling under his breath. “Idiot.”

  The door slammed behind him, meaning Damian had gotten himself in one of his moods.

  “And like that, this whole thing was worth it.” Cassandra giggled to herself, sipping more wine as she watched the announcer gear up for the next game. She also realised she was going to let Luke off the hook this time.

  He was a lucky man.

  *****************

  “Read 'em and weep, boys and girl,” Luke said with a grin, showing off his blackjack and dragging all of their petty cash over to himself. There were grumbles of refusal along the entire table, but not one put up a fuse as he stuffed all the small bills into his wallet, which was quickly filling up.

  Team Basilisk had all been teleported back almost immediately after their win, ending up in what one could only describe as a recreation room a thousand times better than their original waiting room. It had nice carpet, colourful red walls and a bunch of amenities for them to use while they waited along with a nice butler named Alfred who had explained why they were there.

  The teleportation had felt just as awful as it did the first time, so Luke was a little groggy during Alfred’s explanation, but apparently this place was a victors waiting room. A sort of prize for getting through the first round and a distraction for all the contestants while they waited for anyone else to finish.

  Like the original waiting room, it also had snacks, but the real draws were the arcade, pool table and the blackjack table, which everyone other than the robot had slowly moved towards. He was off in his own land world, standing by the door and scaring the shit out of Alfred. The butler had also said there would be an intermission before the next round, which gave them plenty of time to stretch and get anything they would need ready.

  Luke suggested they use the time to gamble and by the gods above he was cleaning house. At the rate he was going, he’d probably make more money from this than he would from the prize.

  “So are you three all like a little villain group upstart?” Fangtooth, as she now insisted on being called, asked while Alfred shuffled the cards.

  Both Snapper and Shrapnel looked like they didn’t know how to answer, defaulting to Luke.

  “Nothing official.” The cashier said, leaving the door open but not committing either of his henchmen to anything. They had to make that choice on their own. “We all just sort of stumbled into working together, one way or another.”

  “One way or another?” Fangtooth asked, puckering her snout. Luke had come to assume that meant she was confused.

  “We met at the snack table,” Snapper explained, volunteering that information as he pulled more petty cash out of his own wallet. When she gave him a strange look, he added. “What? My wife said I needed to be more social.”

  “I robbed him.” Shrapnel added, pointing at Luke.

  “And he decided to work with you after that?” Fangtooth asked, horror creeping into her deep voice.

  “Water under the bridge,” Luke said, waving it off. It was a good act of villainy he couldn’t help but respect now. “Besides, he’s gonna help me ice a superhero we both hate, so it’ll all work out in the end.”

  “You’re going to kill someone?” Fangtooth questioned, seemingly far more horrified than you’d expect from a werewolf.

  “I never agreed to that part Mr V,” Shrapnel clarified with a gulp.

  “Shhhhhhh my sweet summer child.”

  “I take it we’re all new to this Supe business?” Snapper said, tactfully shifting the conversation away from murder as Alfred dealt another hand.

  “Guilty.” Fangtooth readily admitted. “I was working as a barista barely a couple of weeks ago.”

  “I’ve had my powers for a couple of months.” Shrapnel said, turning his fingers into metal as he picked up his card. “But it’s kind of hard to get anything going without being an Adult. I’m still unsure if I want to be a villain, but E.R.A.O won’t let you register for hero courses until you’re over eighteen.”

  That seems like an intentional design flaw. Luke thought, remembering that little bit of information. You’d think that if you had a bunch of super-powered teenagers running around, you’d want them to be well-educated on using their powers properly. But no, you had to wait until you were eighteen.

  Almost as if they wanted you to get into trouble before you were old enough to decide that was a stupid idea. Seemed like a trap.

  “What about you, V. How’d you end treading down the Supe path?” Snapper asked.

  “I uhhh…” Luke started, deciding not to explain the intricacies of System Seven. “...got beat to near death by a Supe lowlife named Puck.”

  There was a sombre silence and a collective look of pity around the table, along with pats on the back from Shrapnel and Snapper. Even Alfred, who had just dealt him a terrible hand of cards, looked somewhat sympathetic at Luke’s misfortune.

  “V, I’m sorry that happened to you,” Snapper said with a heartwarming pat on the shoulder.

  “It’s fine,” Luke said, unbothered by their pity. “I got even with the dude a few days later.”

  “How?” Shrapnel asked, filled with curiosity.

  “Kidnapped him, tied him up in a warehouse and broke his kneecaps.”

  There was another collective silence around the table, and this time, Luke got the impression it wasn’t out of pity. It was strange to think that of all the people he’d been at the villain business the shortest and had done the most villainous acts by far. There was always a chance they were the regular and he was the one outside the norm. The way Alfred looked at him as he dealt him a ten gave him the distinct impression he was more right than wrong.

  “Hit,” Luke said, tapping the table. He ended up busting out on a twenty-seven.

  “I think I get the vibe now,” Fangtooth said, then she pointed to Snapper. “Snapper, you’re the old reliable one.”

  “That's kind of you,” Snapper replied.

  “Shrapnel, you’re the edgy, immature baby of the group that happens to pack the most punch.” Fangtooth continued, pointing at Shrapnel.

  “I’m not immature!” Shrapnel refuted, but when no one backed up that claim, he slumped back down, grumbling. “Shrapnel thinks you guys suck.”

  Then her finger landed on Luke.

  “And V, you’re…” Fangtooth paused, chewing on her words before just spitting them out. “...batshit crazy.”

  “I prefer the term ‘openminded’ personally.” Luke countered. He tended to play up the character around other people, partly because he was much weaker than he let on, but the cashier didn’t think he was actually crazy.

  Maybe a little extreme at moments, sure. But nowhere near holding the entire city hostage or creating mass bioweapons levels of crazy. At worst, he was “washing himself in a park fountain” crazy, and he’d need to fall on some tough times before doing anything like that.

  The TV in the corner buzzed on before Luke could consider his mental stability further. A familiar golden-garbed Supe waved from the podium, standing on top of a Pit now devoid of inky black walls to separate it into four squares. Vibe looked every bit as enthusiastic as he had been the last time, waving the cameras around to show off the roaring audience.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “What a show that was, right, everyone?!” Vibe yelled into the mic, causing cheers all across the gargantuan Pit. “Four Square’s always one of my favourite games, as creepy as Nyx’s pets are.”

  He grabbed both his shoulders and pretended to shiver, eliciting a few giggles from the audience.

  “Now, let’s take a look at a few awe-inspiring moments.” Vibe announced, turning the camera's attention to the screen in the sky, projected by prodigy-tech.

  The first showed a video that wasn’t from their team. A dark-skinned woman who didn’t look much older than Luke himself was destroying swathes of the undead with bullets of water, taking them out by the dozens. He presumed she was drawing the moisture from the air, but then she somehow summoned a tidal wave of water to take out the undead Swarm Hunter, freezing it tight and then shattering it.

  It made that childish part of Luke that absolutely loved Supes giddy. It also made the adult part very aware of just how out of his league he was.

  It would take her like five seconds to kill me, max.

  “What a crashing display of force from the first time Pit participate, Aqua, lady of water. Truly, she is a special talent, commanding a versatile mix of defensive prowess and offensive excellence.” Vibe made sure to stack up the compliments, which wasn’t hard when Aqua genuinely was that powerful. “Next, of course, we have the fail of the night. A screw up so bad it made us all cringe as much as the person who did it. I apologise in advance to the emperor for having to see this.”

  The bright projection switched, this time showing a younger lad with bright orange hair. The guy gave Luke the same vibe as Shrapnel, if not a bit more intense. Unlike Shrapnel, the guy slung blades of bright red energy that did a fairly impressive amount of damage, slicing through the undead like butter.

  The problem came when the Swarm Hunter showed up. Because this ginger youth was clearly shit scared of the thing and wanted to remove it from existence as quickly as possible, even if that meant not thinking about the exact angles he was firing his energy blades. He was too quick on the draw and ended up slicing about ten of his teammates in half. Not to mention, he missed the Swarm Hunter, which promptly skewed him with its bladed arm.

  The poor guy was just trying to look cool.

  Luke could respect the idea, even if it had backfired horribly.

  “Clearly he never heard that with great power comes a greater need for common sense! A shame when Singed, another first-time Pit participant, clearly has such potential. Maybe a couple of weeks of Supe basics over at E.R.A.O. will fix his team-killing habit.” Vibe suggested, earning a lot of laughs. Most people in the crowd were laughing at the ginger. Luke couldn’t help but feel bad for him. “And now, before we move on to our next game, we’ve got a final moment for you all. The wildcard. Now, normally, this is just the strangest moment from the games, but today, the strangest moment also happened to have saved Team Basilisk. I’m sure you all know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “Is he talking about me?” Luke mumbled, a little stunned.

  The image changed to a tall and very handsome supervillain in a long overcoat with a silvery masquerade mask holding a disturbing monument of curled up bones, dodging between scrambling undead while trying to get Fangtooth's attention. Now that he was watching it back, Luke could see how awkward and crazy he looked, flailing around with a ball of bones.

  That was until he watched himself snap into to stillness for a moment. It was like someone had cut the power off, and he’d just become inanimate for a couple of moments. Then, like Luke remembered, he started shouting at Jessica- Fangtooth as he activated Punchline. It was a lot more creepy to see the bones shift around as the head coiled to the front, projecting a ghoulish moonlight from its eyes.

  The little clouds that formed around it were, perhaps, the cherry on top of the bizarre sight.

  And then, of course, there was the reaction from Fangtooth, transforming into a demonic lupine nightmare and smashing through the Swarm Hunter like it was nothing. He remembered it all very well, but now Luke could hear the cheers and excitement that brewed in the crowd as they won.

  “I’m on TV!” Shrapnel shouted, grabbing Snapper by the arms to share his excitement. His demeanour started to turn gloomy as a thought passed through his mind. “Shit, my mum’s going to see this.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be very proud,” Snapper reassured him, only for Shrapnel's voice to turn even gloomier.

  “I’m meant to be studying Snapper. She’s going to kill me!” Shrapnel screeched, sounding like he was about to break down crying.

  Studying? Luke caught.

  “Shrapnel, how old are you?” He asked.

  “17, why-”

  Snapper smacked him on the back of the head before he could finish.

  “Young man, you should not be telling strangers how old you are.” Snapper scolded him with a far grisler voice than usual. Then he pointed to Luke. “Especially not him! No offence, V.”

  “None taken,” Luke said, waving him off.

  Pretty sure it’s legal for me to pay minors less.

  He would keep that little tidbit stored away for another time. If there was any chance of him being able to fund a full villainous operation with henchmen, corners would need to be cut. Shrapnel was starting to look like a corner. Just as he was thinking that, the clip of Fangtooth finished, flashing back to Vibe.

  “I’ve seen some strange things in my time, but I can’t say I’ve seen someone make moonlight out of bones. Bizarre to say the least…” Vibe paused, holding the crowd on edge. “...But also ingenious! Powering up a teammate at the last moment to secure the win in such an obscure way, too. I mean, of course, the moon would make a werewolf stronger. But I know none of us were thinking that.”

  Vibe faced-palmed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “But he did. Pulling a trump card out of nowhere to secure the round. I have to say, the first timer V, despite looking ordinary, seems to have a few tricks up his sleeves. Not nearly as simple as his name, that's for sure.” Vibe said, hitting Luke with a stray at the end that dug deep. “But that’s enough about the last games. We’ve got a new one! Picked by our glorious emperor himself.”

  The crowd simmered as Vibe directed the cameras towards words of light writing themselves in the sky.

  The word “Duel” glowed above the arena in bright gold, drawing a rage of excitement.

  “That’s right. It’s time to d-d-d-d-d-duel!” Vibe announced it in a very dramatic fashion. “But how does this duel work, you ask? Round robbin! We’ve got roughly twenty contestants left, so why not have them battle it out. Our makers were hard at work during the brief intermission, pairing each participant with their most exciting opponent.”

  I get the distinct impression this is going to go bad for me. One of the biggest advantages he’d had in the last games was his teammates covering weaknesses he possessed. In a duelling environment, Luke was likely to look like a fish out of water.

  “Thank god it’s something simple,” Fangtooth said, looking relieved, polar opposite to himself.

  “Now for the rules. It’s going to be a war of attrition, with no teams, ring outs and no time limit. If you beat your opponent quickly, you’ll be rewarded with another fight! If you try to draw things out, the walls might start closing in.” Vibe seemed to emphasise the last bit as a warning. “We’ll be delaying each match by thirty seconds, leaving the most popular contestants for last. So if you’re trying to make a name for yourself, that first bout is the time to do it. And I’ve got another surprise for you!”

  Vibe raised his hands in the air. The TV showed those same inky black walls rising from the arena, only this time they segmented into boxes throughout the Pit.

  “The fights start now!”

  Before anyone could say anything to each other, a golden light surrounded Snapper, zapping him away in an instant. Luke reached out a hand as he was teleported away, trying to say at least a word of encouragement to his teammate before it was too late.

  Snapper was just gone.

  “You’d think they would’ve given us a warning.” Shrapnel grumbled, looking at the empty seat where Snapper had just been. “I didn’t even get to wish him good luck.”

  Snapper showed up on the TV a few seconds later, facing against a particularly angry-looking middle-aged cubical worker. Maybe it was part of his power, but the balding and suitcase mixed with the constant scowl made him look like the type to miss his son’s baseball games for corporate lunches.

  Goodluck. Luke thought, wishing his comrade well. There was a chance this would be where he lost. There was a chance this would be where they all lose.

  Shit!

  “This is a little rushed, but before we all possibly get obliterated by our opponents, how do you feel about exchanging contact info?” Luke asked candidly, pulling out his phone.

  There was a collective look of hesitance from Shrapnel and Fangtooth, along with a silence that spoke volumes. He got the sense there was some denial in that silence. Denial that would go unspoken.

  “Guys.” Luke started, a little exasperated at just how sharp their denial was. “I thought it’d just be nice to know people in the space. We’re all new to this, after all.”

  Shrapnel opened his mouth to say something, but Fangtooth thumped his foot, unimpressed.

  “Are you trying to have us complicit in kidnapping?” She sounded off sarcastically. “Or murder.”

  Luke just shrugged. “I was thinking we’d start with robbing a bank and see how things go from there.”

  Shrapnel raised a hand to say something again, but this time, he was stopped by a golden flash of light devouring him into nothingness. Again, there was no warning of any sort. The teen was just gone, along with whatever he wanted to say.

  “Well, there goes that idea.” The cashier mumbled, storing away the idea of the supervillain team he’d been chewing on. It would have to wait.

  Just as they did. Luke watched people on the TV slowly drop into their own duel, and it became apparent that the rest of Team Basilisk were left a little hanging. Fangtooth looked about as confused as him after a minute had passed, asking the same question he was in her own head.

  “What the hell are they waiting for?” She grumbled, tapping her foot against the table. It physically shook him every time she did.

  “Saving the best for last.” Luke guessed. He thumbed at the robot-cyborg who was still just loitering by the door, unmoved by Cesar’s light. “I’d wager they’ll pit you against him.”

  “Not you?” Fangtooth replied.

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Luke said with a nervous laugh. “But that seems remarkably unfair.”

  “Liar.” Fangtooth snorted, turning her attention to the big rig cyborg. He seemed to take the “ignore all lesser beings” stance religiously, not even bothering to glance at them. Fangtooth’s claw dragged against the blackjack table as she watched him. “Any tips for metal man.”

  Normally, Luke would’ve elected to lie and up his chances of not having to fave Fangtooth later down the line. That’s what Luke would’ve done. V, the supervillain, saw much further down the road and knew exactly how helpful having a friendly 300kg werewolf on his side was. So…

  “I would’ve tried to electrocute him,” Luke admitted. It sounded a little basic, but he was sure if he could figure out some way for Punchline to spike someone with electricity that would hopefully fry his circuits.

  “We’ve established that I am a werewolf, V,” Fangtooth replied, sounding unimpressed. “Werewolves can’t electrocute people.”

  “Not exactly a growth mindset-”

  “Seriously, V, we don’t have time for quips.” Fangtooth interrupted him, pressing the matter. “Fangtooth may want to have a good scrap, but Jessica has a four-year-old at home and would really like to win that money.”

  Oh. First impressions were a quintessential part of social interaction. Integral, some would say. Fangtooth or more specifically, Jessica, was a perfect example of creating an image of someone in your mind that couldn’t be more false. Jessica wasn’t a war-torn battle fiend with monstrous power who just entered the Pit to crush some skulls. She was a barista who likely wanted the money to help support her child.

  The same way he’d originally put Bloom in a box, he’d also created an image around Jessica without really knowing her. In fact, he’d done the same thing for Shrapnel as well as Snapper.

  I think I do it for everyone. Did that make him a judgemental person? Or ignorant. Was he so consumed by his preconception of people that he didn’t allow reality to seep in? For a moment, Luke was left genuinely pondering that part of himself. Then Fangtooth’s clawing brought him back to reality.

  “I think I have a few ideas,” Luke muttered, considering the robot the same way he had considered Shrapnel and Snapper. Translating their own strengths through the expression the System offered him.

  Mr metal was heavy in Brute. Like, front-loaded to the extreme. He’d undoubtedly win a contest of pure strength and durability against almost anyone fighting in the Pit, including Fangtooth. But that didn’t mean there weren’t… avenues to victory. Unfortunately, unlike a game, they didn’t all have the same amount of stats to distribute so the robot was probably front-loaded in more than just one stat, but that being said, Luke had seen the robot fight undead. So he had a pretty good idea of one limitation.

  “His mobility is limited,” Luke whispered, hoping the robot didn’t have super hearing. It probably did but just didn’t care. “The joints on its arms and legs shouldn’t be able to express a full range of motion with how bulky his shoulders are. That’s a dead zone of movement you can exploit. I also would hope he can’t repair himself on the fly, so while he’s more durable, he can’t heal injuries the way you can.”

  Fangtooth had healed all the cuts and bruises sustained from the Swarm Hunter fight by the time they had ended up in the new waiting room.

  “A battle of attrition wouldn’t work.” Fangtooth countered. “The walls V. The walls.”

  “I know, I know. Trust me, I didn’t forget.” Luke replied, holding his hand up. He inched closer, covering his mouth in hopes of hiding his words. “But you don’t need long to heal. Maybe a minute. So blitz the robot at the start of the round, then back off and heal while taking advantage of the mobility deficit to dodge his attacks. Once you’re healed, rinse and repeat until the duelling zone becomes too small. By then, you’ll have either damaged its joints enough to be capable of engaging it in prolonged close combat or…”

  Luke didn’t say what he was thinking, simply gesturing at his own Guardian Bracelet.

  “Where did you even learn to think of things like this?” Fangtooth asked, nodding at his plan. “Are you a Deadlands refugee, a martial arts sensei or some kind of military personnel?”

  “Full disclosure: I work as a cashier,” Luke admitted. He wasn’t super inclined to give away personal information connected to his alias of V, but Jessica had shared enough to the point that it felt warranted. Trust was a two-way street and she was by far the least likely to actually think about joining his little Supe gang. He had to do his best to get on her good side.

  All for the sake of ultimate evil. Luke thought to himself, unwilling to admit any sort of good intention.

  “Then how do you figure that kind of stuff out?” Fangtooth asked, scooting forward. “Like, battle stuff.”

  “It’s a combination of a lifetime of comic book indulging,” Luke explained, pointing to his head. Then he pointed to his heart. “And my power is doing some of the mental grunt work.”

  “And what is your power? I don’t think it’s limited to making bones spew out moonlight.” Fangtooth guessed.

  He held a finger to his mouth and shushed her, causing the oversized wolf to grumble.

  “Spoilers,” Luke said simply.

  “And just when I feel like we’re getting somewhere, you get weird again.” Fangtooth sighed, leaning back in her stool.

  “I consider myself more eccentric than weird.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Fangtooth replied, watching the TV.

  That felt like the natural conclusion to their conversation and since both of them were going to be teleported at any moment, it might be the last as well. There was a certain bittersweetness to that which Luke felt, even if it was clear Fangtooth was wary of him. Because he liked her. She was a tad more level-headed than Shrapnel or Snapper.

  But sometimes things just didn’t click.

  Or at least, he thought they wouldn’t.

  “How much would you pay me?” Fangtooth asked all of a sudden, breaking the momentary silence between them.

  “For what?” Luke questioned, not exactly sure where that was going.

  “For your villain squad or whatever the hell you're thinking of calling it.” Fangtooth clarified. “How much would you pay me to be a part of it?”

  Oh. And he thought he’d made a terrible impression.

  Apparently something good shone through.

  “10%”, Luke offered. “Plus benefits.”

  “40% because I’d be doing most of the work.” Fangtooth countered. “And I don’t think illegal work like that can even have benefits.”

  “With me, you, Shrapnel and Snapper it would be four people.” Luke amended with a devious smile. “So let's call it an even 25%”

  “Except you’re not going to offer a 25% split to either of them… are you?” Fangtooth guessed.

  “I’m offering it to you,” Luke said, extending a hand forward.

  “Good point,” Fangtooth admitted, ruminating on it for a moment before reaching a clawed hand over the blackjack table to shake the cashier. “You’ve got yourself a deal Mr-”

  She disappeared in a flash of golden light before she could finish, and the same goes for the evil cyborg behind Luke, leaving just him alone in the room. The supervillain lounged back, now he and Alfred were by themselves. The butler did not look overly joyed to be left alone with him, but the man could bare it for a short while.

  I’m not gone yet. He’d be kept back even after the robot. That was slightly worrying.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine-” He stopped midsentence as that terrible golden sensation overtook him again.

  His organs shifted and danced as his brain struggled to keep up with the sensation of his bones building walls and his flesh cementing itself in the ground. Then he was back. Light blaring in his eyes as cold night wind hit his face, and the familiar sight of the inky black walls surrounded him.

  And a familiar dark skinned woman with water flowing around her stood in front of him, seemingly quite eager at his arrival. She was much scarier looking ten feet away from him than she was on a holo projection.

  Much scarier.

  Plan A: Talk her down.

  “Hey!” Luke waved, flashing a smile and hoping that made him look less killable. “I was wondering-”

  “Let's have a good fair fight!” She yelled back before he could finish. A little too giddy for a person about to fight to the death with another. “Your moon thingy was awesome!”

  Plan B.

  “You wanna see something even more awesome!” Luke yelled, trying to match her excitement as he reached into his coat.

  “DO I EVER-”

  As it turned out, the time it took her to put “DO I EVER” into words, was, in fact, more time than it took for Luke to whip his shotgun out and bury a shell of buckshot straight in her forehead.

  So that's exactly what he did.