Chapter Text
The workshop was silent.
Not peaceful.
Silent.
There was a difference.
Wemmbu knew the difference.
Peaceful silence was the kind that settled over the workshop after midnight, when the machines had finally stopped whining and the only sound left was the occasional hum of the lights.
This?
This was the silence that happened when something was wrong.
He stood behind the workbench, staring at the closed workshop door.
His fingers rested against the edge of the table.
Egg stood several feet behind him.
Neither of them had moved since they heard the footsteps outside.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then nothing.
Wemmbu narrowed his eyes.
"Tell me that's a raccoon."
Egg blinked.
"A raccoon?"
"Yeah."
"That walks like a person?"
"Very talented raccoon."
"Wemmbu."
"Okay, fine. It's probably a person."
Egg sighed.
"That's not better."
Another knock came.
Three quiet taps.
Wemmbu's shoulders tensed.
The last person who had knocked on his workshop door had wanted information.
The person before that had wanted his designs.
The people before those had wanted him to work for them.
And somewhere in between all of that, someone had stolen a page of his flight-pattern data.
Now somebody was standing outside his workshop in the middle of the night.
Again.
Fantastic.
Wemmbu glanced at Egg.
Egg gave him the look.
The one that said don't do anything stupid.
Wemmbu gave him the look back.
The one that said I have never done anything stupid in my life.
Egg's expression immediately became deeply unimpressed.
"You're terrible at lying."
"I wasn't lying."
"You were thinking it."
"That's not illegal."
"Yet."
Wemmbu snorted.
He moved toward the door.
Egg followed.
"Stay behind me."
"You're the mechanic."
"Exactly."
"That makes no sense."
"I have a screwdriver."
"You have several screwdrivers."
"Exactly."
Egg stared at him.
"Wemmbu."
"Fine."
He stopped.
Egg moved ahead and reached for the door.
Wemmbu's hand caught his shoulder.
"No."
Egg looked back.
Wemmbu's expression had changed.
The humor was gone.
"Something's wrong."
Egg didn't argue.
He simply nodded.
The door opened.
And the world outside the workshop suddenly looked far too bright.
A woman stood beneath the streetlight.
She wasn't wearing ordinary clothes.
Her costume was white and gold, flowing around her like fabric caught in an invisible current. Pale blue accents traced the edges of her sleeves and collar, glowing faintly in the darkness.
Behind her, something shimmered.
Not wings.
Not exactly.
More like translucent fins extending from her back and shoulders, almost resembling a pair of enormous feathers when they caught the light.
Her eyes glowed softly.
There was something distinctly otherworldly about her.
Beautiful.
Calm.
Almost impossibly serene.
And then Wemmbu noticed the emblem on her chest.
A stylized halo surrounding a wave.
His eyes widened.
"Oh."
Egg's eyebrows rose.
"You know her?"
"No."
"Then why did you say oh?"
"Because I know of her."
The woman smiled.
It was the kind of smile Wemmbu had seen on billboards.
On advertisements.
On television.
On the giant screens in the city center.
A smile designed to make frightened civilians feel safe.
"Good evening."
Her voice was soft.
Clear.
Almost musical.
Wemmbu stared.
"...Seraph."
The hero's smile widened slightly.
"That's right."
Egg leaned closer to Wemmbu.
"That's the Seraph?"
"Apparently."
Wemmbu looked her up and down.
"You're shorter than I expected."
Egg covered his face.
Seraph blinked.
For the first time, her smile faltered.
"Excuse me?"
"I've seen the posters."
"Wemmbu."
"What?"
"You can't just insult a superhero at the door."
"I wasn't insulting her."
Seraph's expression remained perfectly composed.
"Thank you."
Wemmbu shrugged.
"You look taller on the posters."
There was a pause.
Seraph looked at Egg.
Egg looked at Wemmbu.
Wemmbu looked at Seraph.
The hero smiled again.
"You're exactly as described."
Wemmbu's eyes narrowed.
"Who described me?"
"Several people."
"That's concerning."
"It should be."
The humor disappeared from the room.
Seraph stepped forward.
"I need to speak with you."
Wemmbu didn't move.
"About?"
"You."
"No."
"Your workshop."
"Also no."
"Your elytra."
"Absolutely not."
Seraph sighed.
"I was hoping you'd be more cooperative."
"I'm a mechanic."
"I know."
"Mechanics don't cooperate."
Egg raised a finger.
"That's not actually true."
"Not helping."
Seraph looked between them.
Something about her expression softened.
"I am not here to threaten you."
Wemmbu's eyes remained narrowed.
"That's exactly what someone threatening me would say."
"I understand why you would think that."
"Good."
"I also understand why you've stopped trusting strangers."
That made Wemmbu pause.
Seraph continued.
"Someone has been buying information about you."
Egg's expression hardened.
Wemmbu said nothing.
"Not just your workshop," she continued. "Your clients. Your designs. Your movements. Your connections."
Wemmbu's fingers tightened around the edge of the door.
"You know about the missing page."
Seraph nodded.
"I know."
"How?"
"I'm not the only one looking."
Egg stepped forward.
"Who else?"
Seraph glanced at him.
"Everyone."
Wemmbu groaned.
"Oh, great."
Egg frowned.
"Wemmbu."
"No, this is great. Fantastic. Exactly what I wanted."
Seraph tilted her head.
"You don't seem particularly pleased."
"I make elytras."
"I know."
"I fix machines."
"I know."
"I don't fight crime."
"I know."
"I don't wear a cape."
Seraph's smile twitched.
"I noticed."
"So why are superheroes investigating my workshop?"
"Because somebody thinks you're more important than you are."
Wemmbu stared at her.
"...Rude."
Egg snorted.
Seraph almost laughed.
Almost.
"Your technology is unusual."
"It's good technology."
"I didn't say otherwise."
"And I made it myself."
"I know."
"And I'm not selling it to criminals."
"I know."
"And I'm not joining a hero organization."
"I didn't ask."
"Good."
Seraph folded her hands behind her back.
"But someone else may not care whether you agree."
The workshop seemed colder.
Wemmbu's gaze dropped for half a second.
Then returned to hers.
"How much do they know?"
"Enough."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
Egg looked toward the street.
"Can you identify them?"
Seraph's expression became more serious.
"Not yet."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Warning you."
Wemmbu blinked.
"That's it?"
"For tonight."
He studied her.
There was something strange about the hero.
Not suspicious.
Just...
Different.
Her public reputation was almost absurd.
Seraph was known for rescuing civilians, calming crowds, stopping fights before they escalated. Children loved her. News channels loved her even more.
Yet standing here, she wasn't speaking like a celebrity.
She was speaking like someone who had actually been paying attention.
She knew about the stolen data.
She knew about the people watching him.
She knew about the pressure being put on his workshop.
And she had come alone.
Wemmbu crossed his arms.
"Why me?"
Seraph looked directly at him.
"Because you're connected to more people than you realize."
Wemmbu's expression flattened.
"I fix things for people."
"Exactly."
"That's not a connection."
"It becomes one when those people include heroes."
Egg glanced at Wemmbu.
Wemmbu looked back.
Neither said anything.
Seraph continued.
"Someone has been tracking your customers."
"All of them?"
"Not exactly."
"Which ones?"
"The ones with unusual equipment."
Wemmbu went still.
His workshop suddenly felt much smaller.
"Flame."
Seraph said nothing.
"Parrot."
Still nothing.
"Spoke."
Her silence was answer enough.
Egg's face tightened.
"You're saying they're being watched too?"
"Possibly."
Wemmbu rubbed his forehead.
"Of course they are."
Egg looked at him.
"How is that your reaction?"
"Because this is becoming a pattern."
"What pattern?"
"Every time somebody walks into my workshop, my life gets worse."
Seraph actually laughed this time.
It was quiet and brief.
Then she looked toward the street.
"I should go."
Wemmbu blinked.
"That's it?"
"For now."
She turned.
Then stopped.
"One more thing."
Wemmbu waited.
"Don't trust anyone who suddenly knows exactly what you need."
His expression hardened.
"Why?"
"Because that's how manipulation starts."
The words hung in the air.
Seraph looked at Egg.
"And don't assume that someone who calls themselves a hero is automatically safe."
Egg's eyes narrowed.
That was a strange thing for a hero to say.
Seraph seemed to realize it too.
She smiled.
"Goodnight."
Then she stepped away.
Wemmbu watched her disappear down the street.
The glowing fins vanished first.
Then the light.
Then the silhouette.
Finally, nothing remained.
Wemmbu slowly closed the door.
He turned around.
Egg was staring at him.
"What?"
"You were flirting with danger."
"I was talking to a superhero."
"That's what I mean."
Wemmbu walked back toward the workbench.
"So."
"So?"
"We've officially been visited by a superhero."
"Yes."
"At my workshop."
"Yes."
"Because criminals are spying on my customers."
"Yes."
"And apparently multiple heroes are involved."
"Yes."
Wemmbu stared at him.
Egg stared back.
Wemmbu sighed.
"I miss when the biggest problem in my life was someone forgetting to pick up their repaired elytra."
Egg smiled.
"You complained about that for three days."
"Exactly. Peaceful."
Egg leaned against the workbench.
"There's something else."
Wemmbu looked over.
"What?"
"She said someone was manipulating things."
"Yeah."
"She didn't say who."
Wemmbu's expression changed.
He looked toward the window.
The street outside was empty.
Too empty.
"You're right."
Egg straightened.
Wemmbu walked toward the back of the workshop.
He stopped beside one of the shelves.
Slowly, he pulled out a small box.
Inside were pieces of paper.
Customer names.
Orders.
Flight specifications.
Dates.
Everything he had written down over the past few months.
Egg stared.
"You kept records?"
"Of course."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't think they'd matter."
Wemmbu flipped through the papers.
Then stopped.
His eyes narrowed.
One page was missing.
Not the same page as before.
Another one.
Egg noticed.
"That's new."
Wemmbu nodded.
"Yeah."
He slowly closed the box.
"Someone came back."
Across the city, Seraph walked into an empty alley.
The moment she was certain nobody was watching, her entire posture changed.
Her shoulders dropped.
The smile disappeared.
She pulled the glowing headpiece from her hair and stared at it with an expression of absolute exhaustion.
"That was awful."
She leaned against the wall.
"Why do I have to sound like that?"
Her voice was completely different now.
Sharper.
More casual.
No soft musical quality.
No carefully measured words.
She looked down at the costume.
Then at the faint glow around her fingers.
The siren markings along her skin faded beneath the concealment of her civilian form.
She exhaled.
"At least he didn't recognize me."
A phone vibrated.
She looked at the screen.
A message.
UNKNOWN:
Did you find anything?
She typed back.
SERAPH:
They're watching the mechanic.
Three dots appeared.
Then:
UNKNOWN:
And the heroes?
She looked back toward the direction of the workshop.
Her expression hardened.
SERAPH:
They're already involved.
Another message.
UNKNOWN:
Does Wemmbu know?
She paused.
Then typed:
SERAPH:
No.
She locked the phone.
For a moment, she simply stood there.
Then she smiled.
Not the public smile.
Not the angelic smile.
A completely different one.
"Good."
She pulled her hood over her head.
"Let's keep it that way."
Back at the workshop, Wemmbu was staring at the missing page.
Egg stood beside him.
Neither spoke.
Finally, Wemmbu picked up a pen.
He wrote one sentence on the remaining sheet.
Someone is inside the information chain.
Egg read it.
"That's not very comforting."
"I wasn't trying to be comforting."
"Fair."
Wemmbu set the pen down.
Then his phone buzzed.
Both of them froze.
A new message.
No name.
No number.
Just a photograph.
Wemmbu opened it.
His face went blank.
It was a picture of the workshop.
Taken from outside.
Taken only minutes ago.
Egg leaned closer.
"That's us."
Wemmbu stared at the photograph.
Then slowly looked toward the window.
Nothing.
No movement.
No footsteps.
No silhouette.
Just the empty street.
His phone buzzed again.
Another photograph.
This one was closer.
Much closer.
The camera had been pointed directly through the workshop window.
At them.
Underneath it was a single sentence.
You should listen when heroes warn you.
Wemmbu stared at the screen.
Egg's expression hardened.
Neither of them noticed the tiny reflection in the window behind them.
A figure standing across the street.
Watching.
Waiting.
And smiling.
The headquarters of the city’s hero network did not look particularly heroic.
There was no giant golden statue.
No dramatic staircase.
No enormous screen displaying the names of every registered hero while orchestral music played in the background.
It looked like an office building.
A very expensive office building.
That was about it.
The top floor, however, was considerably less normal.
A wall of screens covered one side of the main operations room. Maps of the city shifted between districts, security feeds, incident reports, emergency calls, and live alerts. A large table occupied the center, covered in tablets, notebooks, half-finished drinks, and enough paperwork to make even the most organized person reconsider their career choices.
Several people were already there.
One of them was standing directly in front of the largest screen.
Parrot.
Or, more accurately, Spyglass.
His hero suit was dark green and black, layered with lightweight armor and fitted equipment. A pair of bright parrot wings rested behind him, their colors muted enough to blend into the suit while still unmistakably avian.
He stared at the map.
Then at the report.
Then back at the map.
"That's weird."
From somewhere behind him came a voice.
"That's what you said twenty minutes ago."
Parrot didn't turn.
"I know."
"So you're still staring at it."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it's still weird."
Theo leaned over the back of a chair.
Vanguard looked considerably less intimidating when he was doing that.
His hero gear was built for mobility rather than elegance, with reinforced armor over a dark jacket and bright golden wings folded behind him. The helmet sat abandoned on the table.
He squinted at the screen.
"I don't see what's weird."
Parrot finally looked at him.
"The locations."
Theo stared.
There were twelve red markers spread across the city.
Workshops.
Factories.
Research facilities.
Private laboratories.
Specialized stores.
Places that sold or produced equipment for enhanced individuals.
Theo blinked.
"...Oh."
"Yeah."
"That's probably bad."
"Very."
Theo nodded thoughtfully.
"Good talk."
Parrot stared at him.
Theo grinned.
"You're welcome."
From the other side of the room, someone laughed.
"He's got a point."
Flame walked into the room.
Inferno.
His hero armor was mostly dark, reinforced around the shoulders and arms, with subtle orange lines running through it like cracks in cooling stone. His wings were visible, larger than most people expected, and the faint heat surrounding them made the air shimmer.
He tossed a tablet onto the table.
Parrot caught it.
"Three more."
Parrot's expression immediately hardened.
"Where?"
"East district."
"Equipment?"
"Two custom mobility shops and a private engineer."
Theo straightened.
"Same pattern?"
Flame nodded.
"Same pattern."
Parrot looked at the map again.
"Someone isn't buying equipment."
"No," Flame said. "They're looking for the people who make it."
A fourth voice came from the doorway.
"Or they're looking for the people who know how to make something nobody else can."
Everyone turned.
Spoke stood there.
Rift.
Unlike Flame, Spoke's hero outfit looked almost deliberately casual. Dark clothing, reinforced boots, a coat that seemed far too normal for someone who regularly appeared on the news, and a strange fractured symbol glowing faintly near his collar.
He walked into the room like he owned it.
Parrot raised an eyebrow.
"You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago."
"I was busy."
"Doing what?"
"Important hero stuff."
Theo frowned.
"Like?"
Spoke paused.
"...Buying snacks."
Flame looked at him.
"You were buying snacks for ten minutes?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"None."
There was silence.
Parrot slowly closed his eyes.
"How did you spend ten minutes buying no snacks?"
"I got distracted."
"By what?"
Spoke pointed at Theo.
"He was talking."
Theo looked offended.
"I wasn't even there."
"Exactly."
Flame snorted.
Spoke pulled a chair around and sat backwards in it.
"Anyway."
He glanced at the map.
His expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Spoke rarely needed dramatic.
He simply stopped smiling.
"That's a lot."
Parrot nodded.
"Exactly."
"And all of them are connected to enhanced equipment."
"Mostly."
Spoke's eyes moved across the screen.
Then stopped.
"Wait."
He stood.
"What's that?"
Parrot followed his gaze.
A small marker blinked near the edge of the city.
A workshop.
A name was attached to it.
Wemmbu.
Spoke stared at it.
Flame's eyes narrowed.
Theo looked between them.
"...You guys know him?"
Flame folded his arms.
"Unfortunately."
Spoke glanced at him.
"That's one way to put it."
Parrot looked at the file.
"He's a mechanic."
"Specialized mechanic," Flame corrected.
"Yeah."
"Custom flight equipment."
Theo tilted his head.
"He's the guy who makes those elytras?"
Parrot nodded.
"Apparently."
Theo whistled.
"I've heard of him."
Spoke looked at him.
"From where?"
"Hero forums."
Flame groaned.
"You read hero forums?"
"Sometimes."
"Why?"
"They have memes."
Spoke nodded solemnly.
"Valid."
Parrot ignored both of them.
"What matters is that somebody has been watching him."
The room quieted.
A new screen appeared.
Photographs.
The workshop.
The street outside.
A blurry image of Wemmbu leaving the building.
Another of Egg.
Another of several customers.
Flame stared at the images.
"How long?"
Parrot shook his head.
"Unknown."
"Who gave you these?"
"Anonymous source."
Spoke leaned closer.
"That's reassuring."
Theo frowned.
"What?"
"Anonymous sources are always extremely trustworthy."
"Spoke."
"I'm being sarcastic."
"I know."
"Good."
Parrot zoomed in on one photograph.
A figure stood at the edge of the frame.
Too far away to identify.
Too deliberately positioned to be accidental.
Flame's expression darkened.
"They're not just tracking the workshop."
"No."
Parrot tapped the screen.
"They're tracking Wemmbu."
Spoke stared at the photograph for several seconds.
Then he said quietly,
"Does he know?"
"No."
Flame leaned against the table.
"Then someone needs to tell them."
Parrot nodded.
"Seraph already did."
That got everyone's attention.
Spoke looked at him.
"She did?"
"Tonight."
"When?"
"About an hour ago."
Flame frowned.
"She went alone?"
Parrot nodded.
"Apparently."
Theo crossed his arms.
"That's not like her."
Spoke looked at him.
"You mean the part where she talks to people?"
"No. The part where she doesn't bring anyone."
Parrot didn't answer immediately.
Because Theo was right.
Seraph didn't usually operate alone.
Not because she couldn't.
Because her entire hero persona was built around being reassuring.
She was the hero people called when they needed someone to arrive first, calm everyone down, and make them believe everything would be okay.
She was not usually the person sent to investigate something quietly.
Flame looked toward the door.
"Maybe she knows more than she's saying."
Spoke smiled faintly.
"Everyone knows more than they're saying."
Parrot gave him a look.
"That's not helpful."
"I wasn't trying to be."
The door opened again.
This time, nobody joked.
A man walked inside carrying two tablets and a stack of printed reports.
Verdant.
Lomedy.
His hero suit was green and brown, designed to resemble something between modern rescue equipment and light armor. His eyes were focused immediately on the reports.
He placed them on the table.
"I've been checking the affected locations."
Parrot looked up.
"And?"
"Most of them have one thing in common."
"What?"
"They're independent."
Spoke frowned.
"Meaning?"
"They aren't connected to major hero organizations."
Lomedy pointed at the map.
"Small workshops. Independent engineers. Freelance inventors. People who don't have corporate security."
Flame's expression hardened.
"So whoever is doing this isn't going after the big companies."
"No."
Lomedy looked at the workshop marker.
"They're going after people who can't afford to protect themselves."
Nobody spoke.
Theo's wings shifted behind him.
"That's worse."
"Much worse," Parrot agreed.
A voice came from the hallway.
"You're all making that face again."
Everyone turned.
ManePear walked in.
Strider.
He looked like someone had dragged him out of bed and informed him that being a hero was, unfortunately, still his problem.
His armor was sleek and dark, with silver accents and a long coat hanging from his shoulders. His tail flicked lazily behind him.
Flame immediately looked at him.
"You're late."
ManePear glanced at the clock.
"No."
"You are."
"No, I'm exactly on time."
"You're twelve minutes late."
"Then your clock is wrong."
Theo nodded,
"I like that."
Parrot sighed.
"Don't encourage him."
ManePear walked over to the table.
"What happened?"
Lomedy pointed at the map.
"Someone is collecting information about independent enhanced-equipment manufacturers."
ManePear's expression changed.
"How many?"
"Twelve confirmed."
"Any casualties?"
"No."
"Yet."
That one word made the room colder.
ManePear looked at Wemmbu's file.
He stared at the photograph.
Then at Flame.
"You know him?"
Flame nodded.
"Yeah."
ManePear's tail stopped moving.
"How well?"
"Well enough."
"That's not an answer."
Flame sighed.
"He's a pain."
ManePear's mouth twitched.
"So you know him well."
"Unfortunately."
Spoke leaned against the table.
"You're both talking like you don't enjoy annoying each other."
Flame looked at him.
"We don't."
Spoke raised an eyebrow.
"Sure."
"Don't."
"Okay."
A pause.
"You're still doing it."
"Doing what?"
"Being annoying."
Spoke smiled.
"That's my job."
Parrot rubbed his forehead.
"Can everyone please focus?"
From the corner of the room, someone quietly said,
"That's asking a lot."
Everyone looked over.
Cipher.
Wifies had been there the entire time.
He sat in the darkest corner of the room with a tablet in his hands, reading through the reports.
He hadn't spoken once.
Now he finally looked up.
His eyes were fixed on the photograph of Wemmbu.
"The person watching him isn't interested in the workshop."
Parrot turned.
"What?"
Wifies stood.
He walked to the main screen and pointed at the photographs.
"Look at the timing."
He enlarged them.
"First photo. Wemmbu leaves."
Another.
"Second photo. Egg leaves."
Another.
"Third. Wemmbu returns."
Another.
"Fourth. A customer enters."
Theo frowned.
"So?"
Wifies looked at him.
"The photographer isn't stationed at the workshop."
He zoomed in on the background.
"They're moving."
Parrot's expression sharpened.
"Following them."
"Exactly."
Wifies looked at the room.
"Someone isn't trying to find out what Wemmbu makes."
He paused.
"They're trying to find out where he goes."
Silence.
Spoke stared at the screen.
Flame's jaw tightened.
ManePear's tail flicked once.
Lomedy quietly said,
"Then the workshop is only one piece of the puzzle."
Parrot nodded.
"Which means we need eyes on him."
Spoke immediately shook his head.
"No."
Everyone looked at him.
Spoke pointed toward the screen.
"If you put obvious heroes around him, whoever's watching will know."
Parrot considered that.
"You're right."
Theo frowned.
"So what do we do?"
"We don't send heroes."
Flame crossed his arms.
"Then who?"
Spoke smiled.
"People who don't look like heroes."
Parrot stared at him.
"That's suspiciously clever."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"I'll take it anyway."
Lomedy looked at the file.
"What about civilians?"
"We can't put civilians in danger," Theo said immediately.
Spoke shrugged.
"We don't need to."
He pointed at the screen.
"We just need to make sure whoever's watching thinks we're not watching back."
Parrot looked thoughtful.
Then he nodded.
"Fine."
Flame looked at him.
"Fine?"
"We monitor the area discreetly."
"And Wemmbu?"
"Doesn't need to know yet."
Flame frowned.
"I don't like that."
"Neither do I."
"Then why?"
"Because if whoever is behind this realizes we know, they change tactics."
Flame looked away.
Lomedy noticed.
"You know him well enough to care."
Flame gave him a look.
"Don't start."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Lomedy smiled faintly.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
"I think lots of things."
Theo raised his hand.
"Can we stop having emotional conversations and go back to the suspicious people stalking the mechanic?"
Everyone stared at him.
Theo lowered his hand.
"...What?"
Spoke nodded.
"Honestly, that's probably the smartest thing anyone's said tonight."
Parrot sighed.
"Fine."
He turned toward the screen.
"New protocol. Wemmbu's workshop gets monitored. Quietly."
He looked around the room.
"Nobody approaches him unless absolutely necessary."
Flame nodded.
Lomedy nodded.
Theo nodded.
ManePear nodded.
Spoke gave a lazy salute.
Wifies simply returned to his seat.
Then Parrot's eyes moved toward the empty chair near the window.
"Where's Seraph?"
No one answered.
Three districts away, Zam was sitting on the floor of her apartment eating cereal straight from the box.
She stared at the television.
A news reporter was talking about Seraph.
The angelic hero.
The city's gentle protector.
A symbol of hope.
Zam stared at the screen.
Then at the cereal.
Then back at the screen.
"They really love this shit."
She shoveled another handful into her mouth.
Her phone buzzed.
She checked it.
A message from an unknown number.
Good performance.
Zam rolled her eyes.
She typed back.
Shut up.
Three dots appeared.
Did he believe you?
Zam's fingers stopped.
She looked at the television.
Seraph's face smiled from the screen.
Calm.
Gentle.
Perfect.
Zam looked disgusted.
"Unfortunately."
She typed.
He believed me.
A reply came almost immediately.
And does he know who you are?
Zam smiled.
Not pleasantly.
No.
She tossed the phone onto the couch.
"Let's keep it that way."
She turned the television off.
For a few seconds, the apartment was quiet.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Zam ignored it.
It buzzed again.
She grabbed it.
You should check the workshop.
Her expression changed.
"Seriously?"
She opened the message.
A photograph appeared.
Wemmbu.
Standing outside his workshop.
Taken from across the street.
Zam stared at it.
The cereal box slowly lowered from her hand.
Her expression lost its humor.
"...Well."
She stood.
"That changes things."
Back at headquarters, Parrot's phone buzzed.
He looked down.
A message.
No sender.
Just an image.
The same photograph.
Wemmbu.
Outside the workshop.
Parrot stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
You're looking in the wrong direction.
Parrot's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
Another image loaded.
Not Wemmbu.
Not Egg.
Not the workshop.
A hero.
A photograph of Seraph.
Taken from behind.
Someone had been watching her too.
Parrot stood immediately.
"Everyone."
The room went silent.
He placed the phone on the table.
"Forget the workshop."
Spoke leaned forward.
"What?"
Parrot looked at the photograph.
"Someone is watching the heroes."
And somewhere across the city, a camera shutter clicked.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
Because whoever was behind it had already gotten what they wanted.
The villains of the city did not have a headquarters.
At least, not officially.
They had warehouses.
Abandoned factories.
Basements beneath restaurants.
Private clubs with very expensive security systems.
Places that appeared empty during the day and became considerably less empty after midnight.
The city had learned not to ask questions.
Especially when the questions involved people who could level buildings.
One such place sat beneath an abandoned shipping facility on the western edge of the city.
From the outside, it looked condemned.
Inside, it was anything but.
The basement had been converted into a meeting room.
There were screens on every wall.
Tables covered in files.
Weapons locked behind glass.
Maps.
Photographs.
Names.
And, in the center of the room, a long table where several villains were already waiting.
Mapicc sat at one end.
Reaper.
His coat was dark, his expression darker, and a black mask rested beside him on the table rather than over his face.
He wasn't interested in looking intimidating.
He didn't need to.
Across from him sat Jamato.
Paradox.
He was leaning back in his chair, spinning a knife between his fingers.
Not because he needed it.
Mostly because it annoyed everyone else.
Beside him, ShoeBilly was scrolling through something on a tablet.
Malice.
He looked bored.
That was usually when he was most dangerous.
Arachn1d sat near the wall.
Weblock.
Unlike the others, he wasn't paying attention to the meeting.
He was watching the security feeds.
Three screens.
Four.
Five.
The city from different angles.
"You're late," Mapicc said.
Nobody answered.
The door opened.
A man walked in.
Ferre.
Overlord.
He removed his gloves as he crossed the room.
"I wasn't aware this was a meeting where punctuality mattered."
Mapicc stared at him.
"It does when I'm the one calling it."
Ferre smiled.
"Then perhaps you should have sent a reminder."
"Perhaps you should learn how clocks work."
"Perhaps."
ShoeBilly looked up.
"Can we not?"
Mapicc looked at him.
"Not what?"
"Whatever this is."
Jamato grinned.
"He's scared."
"I'm annoyed."
"Same thing."
"No."
"Very similar."
"No."
Jamato shrugged.
"Agree to disagree."
The door opened again.
This time, everyone stopped talking.
Boosfer entered.
There was nothing particularly theatrical about him.
No giant weapon.
No dramatic entrance.
No elaborate armor.
Just a dark coat, gloves, and an expression that was almost pleasant.
That was what made him unsettling.
Boosfer was the kind of person who could walk into a room and make everyone wonder whether they had already lost.
He sat down.
"Sorry."
Mapicc frowned.
"You?"
Boosfer smiled.
"Me."
"You apologized."
"I did."
"Why?"
"I was late."
Mapicc stared at him.
Boosfer's smile widened slightly.
"Don't look so shocked."
Jamato leaned toward ShoeBilly.
"Something's wrong with him."
ShoeBilly didn't look up.
"There's something wrong with all of us."
"Fair."
Boosfer placed a folder on the table.
Nobody touched it.
Mapicc looked at the folder.
"What is that?"
"An opportunity."
"That usually means trouble."
"Usually."
Boosfer opened the folder.
The first photograph appeared on the screen.
Wemmbu.
Standing outside his workshop.
The room went quiet.
Mapicc's eyes narrowed.
"Who's that?"
"A mechanic."
"Why do I care?"
"You don't."
Boosfer flipped to the next photograph.
The workshop.
Then another.
Wemmbu working inside.
Then another.
...
Then another.
A close-up of a pair of partially concealed wings.
Ferre leaned forward.
"Interesting."
Boosfer smiled.
"Exactly."
Mapicc tapped the photograph.
"Hybrid?"
"Likely."
"Likely?"
"His records don't say."
"Then how do you know?"
Boosfer looked at him.
"Because I know how to recognize something people are trying very hard to hide."
Nobody spoke.
Boosfer continued.
"Wemmbu makes custom flight equipment."
Jamato's expression changed.
"Those elytras?"
"Among other things."
Ferre leaned back.
"How much?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"Who asks."
Ferre smiled.
"Now you're being interesting."
Boosfer turned the page.
"There are already people looking for him."
Mapicc frowned.
"Heroes?"
"Some."
"Us?"
"Not yet."
"Then why are we here?"
Boosfer looked around the room.
"Because someone else got there first."
The next photograph appeared.
A shadowed figure standing outside Wemmbu's workshop.
No face.
No identifying features.
Just a silhouette.
Arachn1d finally turned away from the security feeds.
"Who's that?"
"We don't know."
Mapicc frowned.
"You brought us here to tell us you don't know?"
"No."
Boosfer folded his hands.
"I brought you here because I know what they want."
Silence.
"Do tell."
Boosfer's gaze moved toward the photograph of the wings.
"Access."
Ferre's smile disappeared.
"To what?"
"Not the workshop."
Boosfer tapped the photograph.
"To him."
Mapicc leaned back.
"Why?"
"Because he can make things other people can't."
Jamato's expression sharpened.
"Specialized equipment?"
"Yes."
"Power enhancement?"
"Possibly."
"Custom weapons?"
"Possibly."
"Then why hasn't someone simply taken him?"
Boosfer smiled.
"Because they tried."
Mapicc stared at him.
"When?"
"Recently."
"Who?"
"Unknown."
"Outcome?"
Boosfer's smile widened.
"They failed."
ShoeBilly finally put down his tablet.
"How?"
Boosfer shrugged.
"Apparently the mechanic isn't helpless."
Jamato laughed.
"A mechanic fought off a group trying to abduct him?"
"Apparently."
"What did he do?"
Boosfer looked at the screen.
"Glitched them."
The room went silent.
Even Arachn1d stopped moving.
"Glitched?"
Boosfer nodded.
"Objects. Equipment. People."
Ferre's eyes narrowed.
"That's a dangerous ability."
"Very."
"Does he know how strong it is?"
Boosfer looked at him.
"That's the interesting part."
He closed the folder.
"I don't think he does."
On the other side of the room, another door opened.
Everyone looked over.
A man entered wearing a dark suit beneath a long coat.
Ashswagg.
Sovereign.
He didn't bother asking whether the meeting had started.
He simply walked to the table and looked at the screen.
"Wemmbu."
Boosfer nodded.
Ashswagg looked at the photographs.
Then at Boosfer.
"You're interested."
"I'm informed."
"Same thing with you."
"No."
Ashswagg smiled.
"Fine."
He took the empty chair.
"What's the plan?"
Boosfer leaned back.
"There isn't one."
That earned him several confused looks.
"You called a meeting."
"Yes."
"You gathered six villains."
"Yes."
"You showed us a potentially valuable target."
"Yes."
"And you don't have a plan?"
Boosfer smiled.
"Not yet."
Mapicc groaned.
"I knew this was going to be annoying."
Boosfer ignored him.
"The mistake people make is thinking they need to act immediately."
He tapped the table.
"They don't."
He tapped it again.
"They need information."
Again.
"They need patience."
Again.
"And most importantly, they need to know what everyone else is doing."
ShoeBilly stared at him.
"You're spying on the heroes."
"Of course."
"How many?"
Boosfer smiled.
"Enough."
Mapicc's eyes narrowed.
"You're not telling us."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if you know everything, you can accidentally reveal everything."
Mapicc looked irritated.
Jamato looked delighted.
"I like him."
"Of course you do," Mapicc muttered.
Boosfer continued.
"The heroes have noticed Wemmbu."
Ashswagg frowned.
"Already?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Seraph warned him."
Mapicc's eyebrows rose.
"Seraph?"
Boosfer nodded.
"She's become involved."
Jamato leaned forward.
"Then she's going to be a problem."
"Potentially."
"Potentially?"
Boosfer looked at him.
"She's predictable."
Jamato smiled.
"So?"
"Predictable people are useful."
Ashswagg crossed his arms.
"What about Spyglass?"
"Watching."
"Rift?"
"Watching."
"Inferno?"
"Interested."
"Cipher?"
"Investigating."
ShoeBilly whistled.
"You're keeping track of all of them."
"I told you."
Boosfer looked toward the screens.
"It's important to know who is moving."
Arachn1d glanced at one of the feeds.
"And who isn't?"
Boosfer nodded.
"Exactly."
Far away, another villain watched the same photographs.
Jester.
His workspace was quieter than the others.
No enormous meeting room.
No crowd.
No arguments.
Just a workshop of his own.
Several pieces of equipment sat neatly arranged across the tables.
Some unfinished.
Some damaged.
Some clearly custom-built.
He stood in front of a workbench, examining a component under a bright lamp.
His phone vibrated.
He glanced at it.
A message.
They know about the mechanic.
Jester stared at the screen.
His expression didn't change.
He typed.
Who?
The answer came.
Everyone.
A pause.
Then:
Heroes. Villains. Information brokers.
Jester looked toward the corner of the room.
A pair of wings rested there.
Not his.
Wemmbu's design.
He had ordered them days ago.
The finished product wasn't ready yet.
He hadn't expected Wemmbu to become this interesting.
His phone buzzed again.
Are you going to take him?
Jester looked at the message.
Then at the unfinished elytra.
Then back at the phone.
He typed.
No.
The response was immediate.
Why not?
Jester paused.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then he typed:
Because I don't need to.
He put the phone down.
For now, he was simply a customer.
Nothing more.
And that was exactly how he intended to keep it.
Back beneath the shipping facility, Boosfer stood.
"We have another problem."
Mapicc sighed.
"Of course we do."
Boosfer changed the screen.
A new photograph appeared.
Seraph.
Standing outside Wemmbu's workshop.
Jamato's smile vanished.
"When was this?"
"Tonight."
Ashswagg looked at Boosfer.
"She talked to him."
"Yes."
"What did she tell him?"
"We don't know."
Mapicc stared at the photograph.
"Then find out."
Boosfer looked at him.
"You want me to?"
"I want someone to."
Boosfer smiled.
"Then someone will."
Ferre folded his arms.
"What about the mechanic?"
"What about him?"
"If the heroes are protecting him, getting close becomes harder."
"Not necessarily."
Ferre looked at him.
Boosfer pointed at the screen.
"Look at the people around him."
The photograph changed.
Egg.
Another.
Flame.
Another.
Parrot.
Another.
Spoke.
Another.
Clown.
Ferre frowned.
"Those are his clients?"
"Some."
"Friends?"
"Some."
"Enemies?"
"Some."
Boosfer smiled.
"That's what makes him valuable."
Ashswagg looked at the screen.
"Connections."
"Exactly."
Boosfer walked slowly around the table.
"You don't need to break into the workshop."
He stopped behind Mapicc.
"You don't need to fight the heroes."
He moved behind Jamato.
"You don't even need to touch Wemmbu."
He returned to the head of the table.
"You simply need to make everyone around him move."
Nobody spoke.
Boosfer smiled.
"People reveal things when they're scared."
Across the city, another villain sat in the back of a car.
Reddoons.
Redline.
He looked at the photograph on his phone.
Wemmbu.
He zoomed in.
"That little mechanic is causing a lot of problems."
The driver glanced at him through the mirror.
"Do we have a job?"
Reddoons shook his head.
"Not yet."
He looked at another image.
Seraph.
Then Parrot.
Then Flame.
Then Spoke.
"Everybody's circling the same target."
The driver frowned.
"Then we should get there first."
Reddoons laughed.
"No."
He put his phone away.
"Let them."
Meanwhile, in a different part of the city, Saparata sat alone in a dark room.
Crown.
A collection of screens surrounded him.
He watched the hero network.
Then the villain network.
Then the independent information markets.
He had been watching the same pattern for days.
One person kept appearing in the middle of everything.
Wemmbu.
Crown frowned.
"Why him?"
No answer.
He changed the screen.
More photographs.
More reports.
More fragments.
Nothing connected.
That was the problem.
Wemmbu didn't make sense.
He wasn't a hero.
He wasn't a villain.
He wasn't even trying to get involved.
Yet somehow, people from both sides of the city's hidden war were beginning to orbit him.
Crown leaned back.
"Interesting."
He opened a private channel.
Typed one message.
Don't approach the mechanic.
He sent it.
Then another.
Watch him.
Send.
Then a third.
Watch everyone watching him.
Send.
Back at the shipping facility, Boosfer's phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His smile disappeared for half a second.
Then returned.
Mapicc noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That's never true."
Boosfer put the phone away.
"Someone else is interested."
"Who?"
Boosfer looked toward the door.
"Someone who doesn't usually get involved."
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then stabilized.
Jamato looked around.
"Was that you?"
"No."
"Was it you?"
Mapicc shook his head.
"No."
Arachn1d checked the security panel.
"Not me."
The room went quiet.
Then every screen went black.
For three seconds.
Four.
Five.
Boosfer didn't move.
At six seconds, the screens came back.
Every single one displayed the same image.
A black background.
A single white symbol.
A fractured circle.
Spoke's symbol.
Everyone stared.
Jamato slowly stood.
"What the hell?"
Mapicc's hand moved toward his weapon.
Boosfer remained perfectly still.
Then the screen changed.
A message appeared.
You're all looking at the wrong person.
Silence.
Another message.
The mechanic isn't the target.
Boosfer's eyes narrowed.
A third appeared.
He's the bait.
The screens went black.
The lights returned to normal.
Nobody spoke.
Then Jamato laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because he genuinely didn't know what else to do.
"Okay."
He looked around.
"That's new."
Mapicc stared at Boosfer.
"Did you do that?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
Ashswagg stood.
"Then somebody just walked into our network."
Boosfer nodded.
"And told us we're being watched."
Ferre looked toward the dead screens.
"By whom?"
Boosfer smiled.
"I don't know."
Mapicc stared at him.
"You don't know."
"No."
"You're smiling."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Boosfer looked at the blank screen.
"Because now we're finally getting somewhere."
Across the city, in a tiny apartment that looked absolutely nothing like a villain's hideout, someone shut a laptop.
The screen went dark.
The room was silent.
The person leaned back.
One hand tapped against the desk.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then they smiled.
The mechanic wasn't the target.
Not really.
He was simply the one person who could connect almost everyone without realizing it.
Heroes wanted to protect him.
Villains wanted what he could make.
Information brokers wanted to know why he mattered.
And Wemmbu himself?
Wemmbu just wanted to fix things.
That was the beautiful part.
He had no idea he was standing in the middle of a war.
No idea that heroes were watching him.
No idea that villains were watching the heroes.
No idea that someone was watching the villains.
And absolutely no idea that the customer who had walked into his workshop days ago, placed an expensive order, and casually told him to be careful...
was one of the people standing somewhere inside that web.
For now, Jester remained a customer.
Boosfer remained 67.
Seraph remained an angel.
Spyglass remained a hero.
Rift remained a hero.
Inferno remained a hero.
And Wemmbu remained exactly what he had always wanted to be.
A mechanic.
At least for tonight.