Sterling City was roughly 400 miles due north of Lord’s Port and was, in many respects, it’s gleaming counterpart. The weather was sunnier, the air was cleaner, and crime was generally under firmer control. Supervillainy aside, gang crime and drugs were nearly nonexistent among that gleaming city.
And small wonder, given that Dauntless had been its protector for decades now. Even though the man was primarily battling problems around the world, he always showed up in the nick of time if the other local heroes couldn’t put a stop to a problem.
At last, the other Sterling heroes used to be reliable. Here, as with most other cities around the world, the younger generation of heroes were more... troublesome than reliable.
The doorway deposited Jon and Anya in an alley just across from the Bank of Sterling. Anya, as ever, was focusing much of her attention on her tablet. “Looks like we know what happened to Tara Goldsmith’s head,” she muttered.
That tone of hers made Jon uneasy. “Well, I’ve already had breakfast. What’s the situation?”
“Skull fragments were pulled from one of the alley corpses.”
“Christ,” Jon muttered. “Fucking clones. I already hate those things.”
They emerged from the mouth of the alley, focusing intently on the looming structure of the bank. The sloping roof and lion statue out front gave it a rather grand appearance, like with everything in Sterling. “So, you’re sure about this tip?”
“Agents spotted a few of these little suckers casing the bank over the past few days.” Anya turned her tablet toward him, letting Jon see the blown up CCTV images glowing on the screen. They had been zoomed in significantly, and further enhanced and touched up by analysts.
The image showed, bizarrely enough, a mall group of little green army men moving on the window ledges of the bank.
“Toymaker’s modus operandi, from back in the day,” Jon noted. “Apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
Anya nodded, a flat look on her face. “Are you sure about this? Recruiting supevillains is already a risky idea. But Toymaker’s daughter? Shouldn’t we maybe consider aiming a little higher?”
“Have to start small.” Jon leaned against a wall, watching as an armoured car pulled to a halt in a loading bay outside the bank. “Social services have monitored her since her father’s death, especially since she was registered as an alterhuman. School counsellor’s have reported on the... playthings she invented, so she inherited her father’s Artisan abilities, which can be produced in large numbers. So we already have an idea of what she’s capable of. And since she’s young and naive? Should be easy to convince.”
“I’m sure you’re an expert when it comes to talking to youngsters,” Anya said, giving him a flat look.
“My, was that sarcasm I just heard? You know that’s the lowest form of humour.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The guards had already pulled the double doors of the armoured car open, one standing off to the side with an assault rifle clutched in his hands. “If she’s going to make a move on the bank, this would be the day for it,” Anya said, focusing on the heavy bags were unloaded.
“Years later, and supervillains are as unimaginable now as they were in my days.” Jon scoffed and ran a hand through his crop of hair. Already it had grown back to a modest length. He wasn’t looking forward to the next time he’d have to fully dip into his powers.
“So...” Anya gave her boss a sideways glance. “What’s the play? If she does show? Wait for the local heroes to take her in? Or do we have our own agents waiting in the wings?”
“Wait and see,” Jon said, slowly crossing his arms. If one looked close enough, they could just about glimpse the handle of his Model 3, and the leather holster it was resting in. “Well... I think the show is about to start.”
The guards stood to attention as a small group of teddy bears emerged from around the corner, swaying and dancing to some jaunty pop tune that was playing from somewhere inside their fur. From where he stood, he distinctly saw one guard mouth the words ‘what the fuck’ just as one bear pounced forward with immense speed.
The bear exploded with a deafening shriek, sending people running and screaming. The force of the blow rolled one man off his feet, but did not seem to harm in much beyond that. Confetti sprayed from each exploding bear, twinkling brilliantly in the sunlight, enough to near-blind any man unfortunate enough to stand too close.
From the blinding, confetti-fuelled haze emerged a young woman, followed behind by a small pack of army men moving in lockstep. Though only an inch tall each, there was imposing aura from their sheer numbers.
The girl was dressed in a jester’s motley of purple and orange, interwoven with sleek armoured plates. The bells of her twin-tailed cap jangled at her every move, the whimsy contrasted sharply with the steely yellow-eyed visor that concealed her whole face. “Gentleman!” she shouted. “You’re being robbed by the Toymaker! Feel honoured.”
“Oh like hell we-”
One of the guards tried to emerge from cover, and was immediately driven back by a salvo of covering fire from the army men. Though tiny, their rifles unleashed pinpricks of laser light that shaved chips and chunks off the armoured car.
“She’ll kill them!” Anya said urgently, eyes wide behind her shades.
Jon shook his head. “If she wanted to, they’d be dead already. See the firepower of those little guy? They could turn that car to swiss cheese if she told ‘em. She’s keeping them at bay, but that’s all. Seems she picked her old man’s nonlethal nature up, as well as his skills.”
Twin trails of plastic monkeys, linked arm in arm, flew from the barrels affixed to Toymaker’s hips. They moved like graceful tendrils, snapping up several bags of money and handing them, in turn, to a teddy bear more than twice her height and width.
“Her gear might be comical, but only an idiot would underestimate it,” said Jon. So, once she was in custody, the only thing to do was make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.
Already he could hear sirens in the distance, but that sound was quickly drowned out by the sound of something rushing overhead, kicking up a small gale that pushed Jon and Anya against the walls. “Oh shit,” Anya mumbled, looking at the great metallic shape that swept toward the besieged officers.
Toymaker, in turn, quickly took notice. She leaped back, propelled by springs that erupted from the soles of her boots, while her army men rained laser fire on the incoming craft.
It was a large winged platform, inelegant in appearance but ideal for swiftly moving through the air of an enclosed urban space. Five figures rode upon it, superheroes in distinct attire. A man in a flowing white duster that contrasted his jet black mask and bodysuit. A smirking young woman sat beside him, her face half-concealed by an ebony mask that left her mouth exposed. Her hair, sleek and ivory, floated above her head like a cloud. Her attire was a simple purple costume with white gloves and boots, a symbol of concentric silver circles resting on her chest. There was a shorter figure crouched by the rear of the craft. He was scrawny, his costume and puffy green jacket doing little to disguise that. His mask covered his whole face, designed to look like some sort of grinning goblin.
Jon’s eyes settled on the largest of the bunch, a seven foot tall woman who’s black MMA gear left a good deal of scarlet skin in view. Her black mask was like an armoured respirator, and her eyes were like two luminous circles of amber. The woman’s hair was silky and raven black, cut into a pixie bob. Lastly, flying just beside the craft, was a man covered in a suit of gleaming power armour, one shoulder sporting a large cannon while each forearm had a gun on it. He blazed through the air from jets of flame shooting from the soles of his bulky metal boots. His helmet was sharp and angular, a V-shaped visor covering his eyes.
“Fuck me,” Anya hissed, nervous sweat breaking out across her face. “Of all the people to come out here, why did it have to be fucking Next Gen?”
