An alarm brought Alex back to the waking world reluctantly. Between the healing bruises, the lack of hours he’d actually managed to get in true deep sleep, and the knowledge that he had to make a call this early in the morning, the bed felt like the more appealing option. Still he pushed off his bed and threw on an outfit quickly enough. He silently thanked his habit of doing laundry before doing jobs ever since he had an incident about 4 years back where he’d barely managed to dodge no less than four separate heroes on his way home after a heist gone to shit only to realize that he didn’t have a thing in the fridge and had to wear a set of dirty clothes the next day after collapsing on his bed exhausted. Never again.
Breakfast was a cheap protein bar that he snatched along the way to grabbing a laptop and a cable, pausing only to glance at a notebook he’d feverishly destroyed last night with every idea possible about how to reinvent himself and what he’d need to get a good world domination plot going. A slightly more rested mind had him realizing that he’d need to start out smaller.
So, step one, gotta fix "the Iron Menace" into something better so that my mind controlling supervillain land lady doesn’t kill me in my sleep, and then get the funds to take a stab at hijacking a missile silo or something.
Hence the call he needed to make.
He’d at least managed to shoot off a message to Isolated Isotope Inc last night before passing out, his go-to people for whenever he’d felt obsolete in the past. They sent him back a timeslot for a chat after he’d requested something in the morning and now he had to make sure he was ready.
Alex grabbed his keys off the hook by the door and slipped out of the apartment, making his way to the stairs. A few neighbors passed him, and somehow knowing only two of them were supervillains like him actually made him more paranoid of each one. Before, he’d assumed everyone here was in the underworld in some way, be it as a career criminal, a minion, or a fully fledged costumed villain like himself. Now, it felt like the ones he had to look out for were hidden, and a part of him wondered if they knew who he was while he was clueless as to them.
He tried looking at them to see if anyone didn’t fit in, watching as two men in suits passed by warily. Another passed by in a t-shirt with a retro game logo on it, making him narrow his eyes until he recognized this one as the owner of the expensive sports car that kept parking over the lines in the garage. Okay, probably one of Song’s donors.
Speaking of which, Song had let him steal the common room’s microwave for fixing up his gravitor gauntlet, which he’d halfway disassembled already, telling him that she had a spare and that it was on the fritz anyways, but he had a strong suspicion that someone here was about to generously cover a new one. Given what she’d said about how they made their living, Alex had a hard time feeling bad for them for getting duped by Song’s powers, especially since it felt obvious that she was in your head.
During the post war era, telepathy was the scary boogieman, especially when the villain Brain Master managed to steal military secrets from both the Amera Union and Steppeland. However, it was eventually found out that with the exception of a few very powerful and skilled individuals, telepathy was an incredibly obvious power. Spending even an hour away from the telepath was usually enough to make you realize what had happened and for just about every effect to fade. Given that most of his neighbors went off for a full shift that meant that they couldn’t be unaware of what Ms. Song was doing if she was pressuring them for gifts with her powers.
The revelation hit him: Oh gods, she’s probably not even using her powers. They’re all trying to impress her. I mean, I can understand but wow, he thought as he made his way upstairs, eventually ending up on the roof.
Befitting an apartment complex that apparently was full of horned up imbeciles with cash to burn, the rooftop was lavishly furnished for parties, complete with a bunch of tech carefully placed throughout it to make it more comfortable no matter the weather. Sound dampeners were patched onto the short walls, preventing winds from disturbing conversation. Heating tiles were carefully arranged to keep winter days comfortable, while heat siphoning pylons were woven between the chairs and benches to make even the worst of summer days pleasant (and provided a little extra power to the building too). There was even a hardlight projector at the center with subtle tuning that allowed you to dim the very light of the sun or block the rain.
The overly expensive bit of aftermarket modification that Alex was interested in though was an antenna near the corner of the roof that supplied intranet access and satlink to the building. A few months after moving here, he’d taken the liberty to install a small modification to it (and when he cracked open the casing, found that he wasn’t the first or probably the last to do so either). He carefully inspected the small boxes linked to the larger antenna and found his, then set about connecting his laptop to it. And like that, a secure and private connection was now running on a less “public” intranet.
While Alex was sure that a lot of why he was still free came down to apathy from the heroes and government, one of the first lessons of villainy was to not shout you were a villain to everyone in earshot. That included being stupid about online habits too. And considering he was trying to speedrun a successful career that would see him in jail if anyone caught him midway between here and “next owner of the world”, it wouldn’t do to immediately get snatched up because he made a call through an unsecured line asking for an upgrade to his “rob a bank” kit.
Immediately he plugged in his personal code into a special program and waited for the call to start. Pulling over a nice chair, he made himself comfortable, though he didn’t have to wait too long.
As the call began, his screen changed to a lizard man in a labcoat and goggles, impatiently downing a cup of coffee.
“I knew everyone was crawling out of their holes today, but honestly I wasn’t expecting you,” Lab Lizard grumbled. “I didn’t think you were due until the next twenty five iterations on the shield pauldron had come out.”
Alex rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well I decided I should be proactive for once.”
L.L. groaned, “You and everyone else. Let me guess, you also realized Overlab’s gonna have some empty seats as they shuffle a few people upstairs and want something to impress them? I’ve got twenty others who actually buy from us regularly buying not just a whole new kit, but even our Build-Your-Own-Nemesis program too! So what do you want I.M.?”
Shit, right, Maniacal’s death meant every tech villain would want to audition right now. Sure, a good portion like him and the rest of I.I.I.’s clients didn’t build their own stuff, but the newly hired on scientists from Overlab would want flunkies that knew tech and could be trusted not to plug something into the wrong socket, and even some of the older staff were probably looking for some extra security after their boss got fried.1
“Not to mention,” the lizard man continued, “we’ve got people buying some of our premium packages to prove their big doomsday device won’t blow up. Point is, you’re gonna be on a waitlist my friend.”
No! No, no, no! Alex needed to get started immediately!
“Look, I’m just trying to get something simple,” he tried to keep his voice casual. “Jet boots, some lasers, and whatever I can hook up to my gravitor gauntlets.”
“First up, you don’t have gravitor gauntlets, we’ve been over this. Miniaturizing that tech is impossible,” L.L. once again wrongly told Alex. “Secondly, everything like that which we’ve already got built is already being assigned to the orders in front of you and our workshop’s gonna be slammed for the next two months with the orders we’ve got.”
Alex’s face fell. Two months was too long. Not to mention this was only step one. He still needed to put his new gear to use to get some flunkies and superweapons for a proper “take over the world plot”.
Lab Lizard shifted his jaw around, thinking, “Look, I can’t help you and from what I’ve heard P.H.O.T.O.N. and Jotann Labs are slammed too. But we’ve worked with a few ‘contractors’ in the past who might still be able to help. I can give you their numbers and you can use my name as a recommendation, but that’s all I’ve got for you.”
“Fine,” Alex halfheartedly accepted it, copying the incoming contact info as it blinked onto the screen.
L.L. laughed, “Shit, the first time you actually are ready to stop dicking around and you pick the worst time. Absolute shit luck, huh? Hey, I’ll tell my boss you called and next time you’re in the market, we’ll see if we can’t do something nice for you, alright?”
Alex nodded and killed the call. Absolute shit luck, indeed.
He immediately tried to get in contact with the first few names on the list. The first, Engine Ear, apparently was too busy trying to audition himself for a spot in Overlab and sent Alex some textbooks on engineering and advanced laser manipulation. Presumably it was meant to be an insult, but honestly they might be useful if he could get anyone to make him something with lasers built in for maintaining them, so he downloaded them anyways. The next, Field Force, had apparently had a crisis of faith after watching his idol, Dr. Maniacal, get zapped and was apparently planning on swapping sides of the cape, but promised to both forget the conversation ever happened and to put in a good word if Alex wanted to give up villainy. Two more didn’t pick up but he left messages. Machine Ghost apparently was busy with a client who had put in an order a week back and was happy to help when it was over. That was at least only a few days wait, so Alex agreed to a callback but felt like he should at least finish a couple more calls. Who knew how long he actually had before trouble came knocking.
The next call was to a “Starsilk Labs” rather than a person. They at least picked up but immediately Alex was on edge.
“Who is this?” a modulated voice asked. The screen was blank and Alex’s camera wasn’t transmitting either.
“This is…” Alex hesitated. This was supposed to be a private line that Lab Lizard would use to get in contact with this lab. Were they using voice modulators even with clients they knew? Something about their secrecy made Alex hesitant to give his own name, so he decided to test out one of the ones he was work-shopping, “Steelstar. Lab Lizard told me you might be able to help me with an upgrade.”
“He’s supposed to send clients over for me to review first,” the voice protested.
“Apparently, all of the shops are slammed right now, so he sent me a list of his ‘contractors’. I need this gear immediately and I’m looking for someone reliable. He probably didn’t have the time to reach out to you before I called.”
“So we were the top recommendation, I see,” it was hard to tell but the voice sounded proud.
Alex paused a little too long thinking of a response before admitting, “I made some other calls first. I don’t think he put them in any order.”
The opposite end paused.
“Well, obviously those other labs couldn’t help you! Truly there’s only one genius that can be depended on here,” they attempted to recover. “What did you need?”
Alex was glad to move past the awkwardness of the conversation, “Right now, I’m just in the market for a simple upgrade to what I’ve got. Jet boots, undersuit enhancement weaves, light-weight power armor components if possible, miniaturized laser emitters, and whatever gadgets I can stuff into a set of gravitor gauntlets without disrupting their performance.”
“The last one is easy enough,” the voice told him. “You can fit anything in your gloves because gravitor generators can’t be miniaturized so you don’t have that.”
“Yes, I do,” he replied, irritated.
“No, you don’t,” came their equally irritated response.
“Yes, I do,” he insisted.
“No, you don’t,” they stood their ground.
“Look, just humor me and tell me if I shouldn’t put anything near a gravitor generator,” he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Well, obviously anti-gravitors, assuming you have a theoretical particle lying around. Otherwise, strong magnetic fields and heat sources over 700 Kelvin.”
“No flamethrowers or magnets, got it. So I’m looking for cable launchers, deployable short range EMPs, and maybe some gas dispensers.”
He heard a harumph over the line, “I can get all of those to fit in your gloves.” He thought he heard them say something about gravitors and him being wrong but thankfully the modulator completely ate the comment. “As for the rest, I’ve only got about a square foot of underweave and it’s not going to let you rip apart a bank vault but it should let you lift a car if you’re smart. And I’ve got a chest piece for power armor, complete with upper arms. I can fit some lasers onto that in like 15 minutes.”
“And the jet boots?” he asked.
“Oh please, that’s nothing. Done in an hour, tops. You have measurements?”
“Can I send them over this link?” he asked, wondering if this was only an audio link.
“That works. So, Steelstar, when do you need these?”
“Today if possible,” he told them as he sent over his measurements, quickly reflecting on the new name. Now that he was hearing someone else say it out loud, it sounded a bit… hero-y for his tastes.
There was a pause.
“Uh… things are a little busy today. My… associate won’t be able to help make the delivery.”
Oh, come on!
“Well, when should they be able to?” he asked, trying to keep himself calm.
A long pause filled the air. Alex shifted in his chair, hearing the buzz of the various pieces of tech scattered across the rooftop as they fought against the true nature of the world around them.
“I don’t… know,” the scientist finally said.
“I need these!” he protested. “It’s incredibly urgent!”
“Okay! Okay! Um… you could leave your payment at a drop location and I’ll let you know the next one.”
“Absolutely not,” Alex immediately replied.
“What? Why?” the voice’s nervousness was apparent even through the modulator.
“L.L. might’ve recommended you, but this is our first deal and you’re still an unknown. Hell, other than ‘Starsilk’, you haven’t given me a single name. Not to mention this call has been audio only and you’re speaking through a filter. For all I know, you could take the money and run, or give me junk gear.”
“Hey! For all I know you can’t afford my work anyways!” they protested. “Here!”
A number flashed up on the screen. Oh… ouch. Those were a lot of digits. Thank gods Ms. Song was letting him off rent free. Still between the smaller bills and this, he was eating rice and beans until next score.
“I’ve got the money, no problem,” he told them. “I’ll even have it in cash. But this exchange only works with a little trust in some way though. I’m not doing this sight unseen.”
“Ugh… Okay, fine, meet me at the Red Rum Pub tonight. I’ll have everything ready by then. You cross me and I’ll have one of the ghosts there pull your teeth out.”
The Red Rum Pub was neutral grounds, at least for villains2. The ghosts that ran it hated self righteous heroes and nosy do-gooders, and enforced the peace of the pub, making it perfect for meet ups between those on the wrong side of the law. Unfortunately, that also meant that while heroes couldn’t waltz in, its reputation was well known to the point that there were eyes on it constantly. There were secret entrances but it was risky. Sure it was a classic place for a meet up to hash some things out if you were a known supervillain but not the kind of place to make trades.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Still, Starsilk’s scientist was already jumpy, if he tried to push for anywhere else, this might fall through and this was the most promising lead all day. If he got a hold of this tech, he might be able to make a successful re-debut within the next week and a half and get the cash for a larger plot squared away. Hell, if Starsilk worked this fast and was as good as they acted, they might be able to build him something for his “stage 2”. With schemes like his, it was probably better to do less shopping around for that particular part of the plan.
“Fine,” he relented, already trying to figure out how he’d sneak in and out from the most well known villain hang out while smuggling his new upgrades out with him, without tripping the radar of anyone important. “Send a time to the following number when you want me to be there. If this works out, hopefully we’ll work together in the future.”
He shot off one of his burners to them before leaving the roof to return to trying to figure out where he’d go from here. He still needed something impressive and profitable for his next step, and he had to do it fast before all those other villains that were ordering from Isolated Isotope grabbed everything worthwhile in this city.
Plus he still needed to find a new name. Steelstar just wasn’t working for him.
---------------------------------
Lyn looked around confused. This… should be the place but…
Why was it green?
Backing up, Celeste had made good on her promise and managed to get a message off to the Scarlet Sorcerer last night and apparently gotten an appointment with them the very next day. Apparently, they needed the job and were more than willing to slot her in immediately.
The directions were incredibly annoying to follow, and Lyn wasn’t exactly in love with the idea of having to navigate through the city in broad daylight, but it might just be worth it all if this paid out. After squeezing through three alleyways, through four abandoned buildings, and a small detour through the sewer, she’d arrived at an odd sight. In the middle of a pocket between buildings, there was a clearing where a small patch of sunlight peeked through a gap in the skyline above. Fed by rainwater, a patch of moss formed a small “lawn” to a decrepit looking, yet cozy wooden house in the very center of this gap in the skyscrapers, forgotten by the city at large around it. Invisible to the world, impossible to find without knowing it was there, and inaccessible to all who didn’t have the exact instructions on how to find it, nonetheless, it seemed to be alive as the moss grew over it in what appeared to be a carefully cultivated way.
The greenery on the outside wasn’t what concerned her, but rather when the door had opened on its own and she’d managed to squeeze her over-sized body through the small door, the interior was also full to the brim with nothing but the color green.
Plants, peeling paint, rugs, and décor (which Lyn unsuccessfully attempted to avoid knocking over as she passed through), everything was some sort of shade of green.
“This is the Scarlet Sorcerer’s place, right?” she asked aloud.
“Indeed,” a man’s voice answered her from a room up ahead.
Cautiously she advanced forward into a large living room, where a man stood arranging several jars. He was dressed in a thick emerald green cloak. Below it, visible as his arms pushed it aside to select a few of the jars off the table was a loose earth colored vest over a long sleeved white shirt ending in dark green gloves. An almost-black shade of forest green work pants dropped into a worn set of dark brown boots. His face was completely in shadows beneath an incredibly over-sized and wide-brimmed, yellow pointed hat.
“Not what you expected?” she asked.
Lyn paused. Suddenly, no matter how hard she’d seen what looked like a male gardener with a wizard cloak and hat, now all she could see was a witch in green.
They chuckled, the laugh beginning out with a feminine grace and ending with a rough masculine depth.
“I hope that clears things up,” their voice shifted from masculine to feminine over the course of the sentence, the shift in tone accompanying Lyn’s perspective of them shifting. She thought she saw curves underneath their clothes form, but as they moved from the table, all she could see was what looked like broad shoulders and a sharper build.
Lyn nodded, “I think I’ve got it. Hiding from the heroes then?”
Well, they wouldn’t be the first to disappear to a hidden base, throw on a bunch of disguise charms to trick any scrying or tracking scans.
They laughed again and gestured behind them, “If I was, then Azure would not have brought me that this morning.”
Lyn froze. In the dining room, atop a table with ivy draped across it, was a familiar corpse.
Dr. Maniacal’s dead body was maybe 6 feet from where she stood surrounded by various ritualistic objects.
“The heroes came to me for my help, just as you did, Evelyn. That body will take some time, so why don’t we work on you first,” the sorcerer gestured behind her.
As the spider woman turned, she saw that the hallway behind her had become a stairway leading up. She tensed, feeling trapped.
“Relax, if you wish to leave, simply think about it hard enough and the house will let you out,” the not-so-Scarlet Sorcerer told her. “But I’d assume you want what you came here for.”
A whole bunch of danger sirens were going off in her head. This person was an independent in a city that really liked you to be on one side of the fence or the other or at least pretend to not do business under the table. Not to mention knowing her name, which while not entirely hard if you had an intranet connection, didn’t feel like they learned it from looking up her criminal record.
“Please, I’m asking you because I’d like to keep from further contaminating the poor doctor’s remains with any stray magic from the rituals we’ll be going through together.”
Lyn took a deep breath, “Pretty sure he was a billionaire, so I don’t think I’d call him poor.”
She waited to see if her joke would get any reaction, something to wrongfoot this person or make them seem somewhat human. They were so unnerving.
“Ah, that does explain the lack of a soul,” they mused. “That or all the lightning.”
Lyn actually guffawed, tension leaving her. She felt like she could see a smile in the shadows under the hat. Well, that worked in a way. She began to ascend the stairs, noticing that the path felt larger and more accommodating to her larger form. At the top, there was a landing with three doors.
“Please pick any one of them, I’ll be up in a moment,” Scarlet called out to her, placing jars on the table next to the body before scooping up some more.
Lyn opened the first one and led herself into what appeared to be an empty bedroom, a single mirror and a window with curtains drawn being the only thing in the room. She didn’t have time to examine anything in too much detail before her host walked in and let go of the armful of jars. Rather than smashing to the ground, they floated away from the sorcerer and began to form a large circle around the room.
“Let’s see if I remember this correctly,” their voice was feminine the whole way through the sentence, but it felt like two separate women’s voices bookending the statement. “Your friend, Celeste Cambell, said you wanted a humanoid form but one that still had your enhanced strength and preferably some other powers.”
Lyn remembered the phone call and remembered Celeste using a pseudonym. Looks like it was completely ineffective.
“That’s right,” she said. “As much as I hate living like this, I can’t just give go back to being a nobody.”
“Hmmm,” they hummed, seeming to glide around the room to the jars, opening them and using some scoops they had hidden on them to measure out their contents before carefully upturning those scoops. The contents spread out into lines in the air.
Lyn watched uneasily.
“If possible, would you be fine with being able to shift between this form and another?” they asked.
Lyn blinked. That was… not an unwelcome idea. She had to admit she’d gotten used to being Terrorantula. Plus, reaching the top shelf anywhere was a nice perk.
“I’d… like that?” she tested.
Scarlet nodded, “I see. Well, I think the only hang up is that this humanoid form might not look entirely human. You would still stand out, but no more than the various Atlantheans, Animalia, or Faefolk.”
“But otherwise everything would be normal, right?” she asked. “No… uh, hidden surprises?”
Scarlet chuckled, “There might be some extra bits. I can’t guarantee you won’t still have some venom, but those eyes and legs should be normal. Smoother skin too, at least while you’re in your new form.”
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
“We’ll get to that in a moment. For now,” they gestured and from between the floorboards, wax and powder began to rise. The powder settled onto the floor while the wax twisted into candles, a wick poking up and lighting itself. “We need to talk about my price.”
Lyn steeled herself. This was all so good, it was too disgusting. Like a beautifully colored but venomous animal that was enticing but lethal. Here came the cruel reality.
“You will need to perform three favors for me in the future,” their voice was like stones grinding against each other. “You may decline me twice per favor should you find them too disagreeable, but I’m certain that you will be pleased enough with my work and find them reasonable enough each time that it shouldn’t be an issue. I offer this to show my generosity.”
Lyn nodded but was the furthest thing from reassured.
“You wonder why I would offer so much for three favors, but think of this,” they continued, their voice like ocean waves now, “if I grant you power and freedom, your favors are worth so much more to me. And it is so rare to earn the favors of those like yourself who are a little more understanding of the limits of the law on obtaining what we desire.”
Before she could answer, they continued, “But it wouldn’t be right to proceed without you knowing what this involves. First up, there will be pain. We are forging you another body from the echoes of your old one and the powers of what we are summoning here. Your soul will be partially ripped from your body and tied between two bodies, one of which will be thrown into non-existence, forever twinned to its opposite. While the process of swapping between the two will cease to be painful in time, that will not be the case for now. Expect some… growing pains. Know that as part of this twinning, what damages one body will inflict damage on the other, so don’t attempt to swap over if you take a wound in hopes it will keep you safe.”
Okay, lots of pain, that sounds a little more reasonable. Still feels like things are too good to be true, but we’re out of pure fantasy now.
“Secondly, this will cost a soul.”
Yeppppppppp, there we go. She began to speak up, but Scarlet shook their head.
“Don’t worry, this will be my soul as payment.”
Lyn didn’t even have a response for a moment, “Okay, now I know this is a trap.”
She began to move towards the door, reading herself to fight the wizard if they made any move towards her.
“Relax, this will be my four hundred and fifty first time selling my soul. I’ve already taken care of all the details in a contract before you arrived.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Have you ever heard the story of owing money to a bank? Where if you owe them a hundred, it is your problem? But owe them a hundred million and its their problem? It turns out that when you make a contract with your soul delivered on death, that debt can only collected by the one with the strongest claim,” they explained.
Lyn’s mind was blank listening to this.
“It turns out that more than demons can make bargains for souls and the more powerful the soul, the more prestige for owning the debt. In addition, minor extraplanar beings who know such a valued soul has claim elsewhere have interest in obtaining their own proof of debt not to collect on it, but to trade it to those who intend to. They get to offer stronger claims to the debt in exchange for favors from more powerful demons, fae, or other beings. Which in turn makes my soul all the more valuable to those looking to trade claims to its ownership who could never win if it came to a fight for those too invested in it to pass up.”
Everything started to make sense now. All the secrecy and misdirection. Well, Lyn could safely say this is the first time she’d met someone committing fraud with their soul, but apparently even the hero organizations of the city were coming to her with the bodies of super villains from the League so it was working out for them.
“Okay, I think I believe you, as much as I can,” she admitted. “This deal won’t end if one of them ends up collecting on you, right? My soul isn’t on the line?”
“I have a copy of the contract here for you to review and can even have a truth spell cast on me if you want to wait that long for a trusted associate to come by, but I assure you that you’re not in danger in that department. This transaction will be finalized in the moment, meaning you keep whatever you gain from it even if I die, though the favors owed might be extracted by the one who collects with the same terms if they learn about them, so I’d further suggest getting those out of the way as soon as possible. Otherwise, the last thing to warn about is this.”
“Tell no one about me,” the room grew cold. “This is not part of our deal or the procedure that follows. You can understand now why I value my privacy. I will do what I must, regardless of how much I might value those favors you owe me. The sale I make today is trivial in value compared to keeping those hunting me from finding me, and I will be more than willing to let this debt be squandered if I must keep myself safe.”
Their voice went through an entire choir in the time it took to finish that threat, each a deep threatening knife pressed against her. Lyn could only nod in response.
“Perfect, then please review this contract, as well as reviewing this infernal one that I’ll be making if you care to, and then step into this circle and keep all eight of those legs inside these lines.”
Lyn looked through the contract, noting quickly that it had a minor enchantment. Binding but honestly breakable if she could find a strong enough spellcaster. Not that she’d probably be able to get a hold of the contract itself to do so, Scarlet seemed powerful enough and who knew what more than 400 deals had done to them. She noted that there wasn’t a defined punishment for her failure to live up to her side, though it oddly enough left open arbitration for that to a third party decided by the laws of the land both parties dwelled in. She glanced up to see the sorcerer adjusting a few pieces of the ritual by hand. So if their soul did end up in the hands of a demon, that meant hell’s laws to deal with. Yet more pressure to get the favors over with.
Honestly, having to promise future work didn’t bother Lyn that much. Trading favors in the cape world, on either side of it, was standard business. Regardless of if you called yourself a hero or villain, when the time came you were expected to pay your debts be they informal or written on scrolls like these. It was how much she was getting out compared to what it felt like she was paying. Three favors from her was not worth a ritual this powerful.
But at the same time, this opportunity was too important, too much to give up. Lyn cursed herself internally, knowing this would come back to bite her, but she knew she had to go through with it. She glanced at the infernal contract, making sure it didn’t mention her at all, either by name or otherwise, but it seemed safe. Well, safe for her. She went back to the first contract and signed her name with an offered pen, pressing her thumb into a wet spot of ink next to the signature. The scroll flared for a moment before returning to simple parchment. She offered it to the Scarlet Sorcerer only for them to point to a spot on the floor to leave it.
With that done, Lyn hesitantly crept forward into the circle on the floor.
“Perfect. Now the ritual begins,” the spellcaster told her.
Lyn felt the energy begin to course through the room. Movement caught her eye in the mirror but when she looked at it, nothing but her own reflection was there.
“Now then, I want my first favor.”
Lyn looked over, seeing the green clad wizard holding one of the empty earthen jars from the ritual. Satisfaction radiated off them while horror began to creep into Lyn. Was she really getting betrayed this quickly. She knew that-
“I want you to tell me how much you want this.”
Lyn was stunned. That was nothing like what she’d expected. Her eyes saw the contract glowing nearby, awaiting her response.
“I,” she stammered. “I need this. More than anything. I’ve hated living like this for almost a decade now. But I can’t give up what it gives me. I need this ritual and the new body and would give up almost anything for it.”
“Almost?”
She closed all of her eyes tightly.
“I’d give up anything in the world for this,” she admitted.
A set of runes glowed on the outside of the circle and a ball of light shot out of Lyn’s chest towards the wizard, who caught it in the jar.
“True desire’s purest essence,” they explained, their shifting voice full of satisfaction and an ounce of reassurance. “Worth more than a hundred souls without an ounce of conviction. See? That wasn’t so bad. Now, unfortunately, this next part is going to hurt and you’re not going to feel as great now that you’ve handed that over.”
Lyn felt more confused and less sure of things, but didn’t have the chance to say or even think any more than that before the worst pain she’d ever experienced in her life hit her. All of the fights as Terrorantula combined paled compared to this.
The last thing before the room went white was something with eight legs in the mirror approaching.
1. From after action reports, villainous operations carried out by Overlab seem to primarily involve tech based villains, either directing or supporting personnel during heists or attempted super weapon deployments. While the department appears to be primarily a research division that is made up in the majority by scientists, it seems to employ villains who rely on the technology the lab develops more than their own powers. It’s suspected that this is because this gives better test data, meaning that operatives are as much bodyguards and muscle as they are part of Overlab’s greater experiment base.
2. The Red Rum Pub has been owned by four separate families, each of which has met a grisly fate. All of their ghosts now legally collectively own the establishment. Due to their resentment at their unsolved murders and later fear that solving of said murders could release them from their successful business venture by having their spirits depart the mortal coil, the ghosts despise law enforcement of all types, including heroes and freelance detectives. According to Victory City’s records, the pub has been renovated multiple times with official documentation showing at least four hidden rooms and passageways, but it is suspected that there are more.
