Supervillains weren’t supposed to pay for coffee. In fact, Julian Godfrey had come into this very cafe last week—in full costume—to politely demand a free latte on his way home from holding a CEO hostage upstate. He’d already forgotten the man’s name, but the ransom money was going to fund some extravagant kitchen upgrades in his apartment.
But today, Julian wasn’t here for a drink. He was here to sit in the corner of the cafe and send emails and read and, of course, finalize his plan to take an entire city block hostage. Rather than a villainous costume, he was dressed in the clothes he wore to his day job at the library: black pants, a dark purple button-up, and a black blazer.
He did still want his coffee, though.
Julian contemplated tonight’s plan as he stood in line. This would be the biggest demonstration of his power yet. He’d been preparing for months, and it had taken a lot of training to ensure he’d be able to pull it off.
Most importantly, he’d be doing it alone. He had to. If he succeeded, the city would be forced to realize him as a true threat. More than just the lackey of a bigger villain. He was already feared, to a degree, but maybe the people of New Atlas would finally regard him with the same awe as they did Blazar.
Julian planned to relinquish control of the apartment block in exchange for a considerable sum of cash. Not the most original idea, but money wasn’t his real goal, anyway. He was going to lure in the city’s biggest hero and completely destroy him. Or at least, kick his ass hard enough to keep him out of commission for a few months.
One of the cashiers waved Julian over. “Next, please!”
“Macchiato. Sixteen-ounce,” he told her as he reached the register.
“That’ll be five ninety-eight.”
Julian opened his wallet and pulled out a single five-dollar bill. Damn. He’d thought he had more cash. “Hold on, let me find my card—”
“You’re a dollar short?” came a voice from his right.
Julian glanced up. The woman who’d spoken removed a dollar from her own wallet and held it out to him, despite his fingers already starting to tug his credit card free. He briefly considered turning it down. He had plenty of money to burn, after all.
But why say no to convenience?
“Thank you,” Julian said, looking her over as he accepted the dollar. She was nearly a foot shorter than him, probably around five-three. She wore a white flannel over an oversized teal New Atlas University tee, her skin was light brown, and—
“Your hair’s blue,” he noted, lifting an eyebrow. Her curly hair, pulled back into a ponytail, was dark for only a few inches at the roots. The rest was a faded turquoise.
She laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot. And it’s no trouble, really.”
Julian watched her walk away while the cashier finished the transaction.
“Here’s your change. We’ll have that out in a minute.” The cashier dropped a couple of pennies into his hand. “Next!”
Julian moved to the edge of the crowd waiting for drinks. Surprise lingered with him. Yes, sure, plenty of people were nice enough to offer a complete stranger a dollar without being threatened, but he’d already been reaching for his credit card. He hadn’t needed the money.
He was intrigued enough to consider approaching the woman and starting a conversation, but she grabbed her coffee and left before he could settle on what to say. An employee called out his order a moment later. He took his macchiato and made his way to a table in a far corner of the cafe, one of the few that hadn’t been taken over by college students or employees just getting off work.
You don’t take a free drink from a restaurant because you can’t afford it, Blazar had told him once. If you’re after money, you rob a bank. You take the drink to remind people you could be anywhere, at any time. You take the drink to remind people that they’re never really safe.
Julian sipped his coffee. His free hand closed into a fist, and a single stone formed in his grasp. The pebble rested on his palm when he opened it.
That was all he’d been able to do as a child. It took a lot of energy to form matter, after all. But even before he’d fully developed his geogenesis powers, he was at least able to manipulate his creations. Thank god for that. Blazar probably wouldn’t have kept him around if all he could do was make tiny rocks.
Another sip. The block Julian would be attacking in a few hours was a short walk from here. He’d pass it on his way to the Complex. The area had become familiar—over the course of the past month, he had spent countless hours generating stone beneath the streets—but it would be nice to take one last look before he made his move tonight. He had a lot of asphalt to break through.
He took out his phone and responded to a few scheduling emails from other library employees. Checked the time. Skimmed the news. Checked the time again.
It was nearly five-thirty when he finished his coffee. He ran a hand through his dark hair as he rose to his feet, his anticipation growing. He hadn’t been this excited about a fight in a long time.
During his walk to the Complex, Julian assessed the sidewalk beneath him, searching for the largest cracks, the weak spots where he could focus his efforts. Storm Warning would have no choice but to show up. This would be the biggest threat the city had ever seen—save for a few of Blazar’s stunts, of course. It was hard to compete with some of the fires that man had started.
Around him, New Atlas basked in warm evening light and the atmosphere of spring. There was the incessant drone of traffic, sure, but there was also the chatter of birds and buzz of insects lured by the trees that city planners had crammed in wherever they could.
Fifteen minutes of walking brought Julian to the alley that hid the Complex’s entrance. The elevator he took could only be accessed with a key, and the only floor it went to was the top.
The elevator was halfway up the building when a text came in from Blazar. When are you returning to the COVE?
About to walk in, Julian replied, unable to help a small sigh. He’d never dare say it to Blazar’s face, but he hated calling their base the COVE. It wasn’t the word itself that irritated him, but the absurd acronym Blazar had come up with to fit it: Complex Of Villainous Entities.
Well, the name didn’t matter much anymore. There were only four of them left. Blazar was still a force to be reckoned with, but the days of an actual league of villains patrolling New Atlas were long gone.
The elevator door opened, allowing Julian to step directly into the open living area. At the opposite end of the space were the double doors to the balcony and a hallway leading to the bedrooms. To the left was a kitchen furnished with shiny high-tech appliances, and to the right were the couches and a massive monitor that Damselfly was currently using to watch reality TV.
“Hey, Julian.” Damselfly looked up from where she was draped across the couch. Her long insect-like wings fluttered as she twisted herself around to watch Julian enter, glittering vibrant blue in the light from the kitchen. “How are your books?”
She didn’t really care. The others took any opportunity they had to make a jab at Julian’s day job. “Library’s doing great,” he told her. “Is Blazar in?”
“Nope.”
“What about Lord Saturn?”
“Haven’t seen her, either.” Damselfly’s head tipped to the side. Her chin-length waves of black hair moved with her, brushing against the pale skin of her face. “What are you up to?”
“I’m getting into a fight tonight,” Julian told her.
“Ooh, Storm Warning?”
“Hopefully.”
The strongest hero in the city. The most charismatic. And the most fun to fight. The other New Atlas heroes who popped up enough to be household names hardly did anything more than fight common criminals in back alleys. The minor villains they used to battle had been driven out of the city years ago. Or killed.
Julian ran into the smaller heroes from time to time, as did Damselfly and Lord Saturn. But Storm Warning was the only one who ever dared to confront Blazar.
“Well, if you’re looking for the mask that only covers the top half of your face, it’s in the sink,” Damselfly said.
“Why is it in the sink?” Julian asked. He frowned. “And how did you know I was looking for that one?”
“You use the full mask for missions. Half mask is for big public shows. Like fighting Storm Warning.” Damselfly shrugged. “And we were out of dishes, and I needed something to put my nachos on.”
Julian sighed as he entered the kitchen and picked his mask out of the sink. “Did the other two say when they’d be back?”
“Nope.” Damselfly folded her arms over the top of the couch and rested her chin on them. Her dark eyes settled on the mask in Julian’s hands. “Why, you looking for backup tonight?”
“I don’t need backup.” The sink turned on with a hiss. Julian squirted soap onto the mask’s metal surface and watched it foam up. Thankfully, the cheese stains vanished quickly.
“All right, well, I’m here if you change your mind.” Damselfly thought for a moment. Her wings twitched. “On second thought, there’s a new episode of Haunted Weddings tonight, so I probably won’t come out.”
“Glad I can count on you.” Julian rinsed off his mask and wiped it dry with a towel. He’d been the youngest villain at the Complex until Damselfly showed up. While Blazar had succeeded at hammering responsibility into Julian, Damselfly hadn’t been so keen on establishing herself. She preferred to tag along on whatever plans the others came up with.
“I don’t get why this girl is having her wedding at her university,” Damselfly said, her attention back on the TV. She tossed a piece of popcorn into her mouth and continued speaking as she chewed. “I mean, I get there was a murder, but these buildings are so ugly.”
Julian considered asking what exactly the point of the show was, but he didn’t have time to listen to another one of Damselfly’s spiels.
“You gonna go to college, Julian?” she asked.
He’d considered it before, but Blazar had turned him off the idea. You don’t need it. You’re powerful. You can take whatever you want. He’d tried to dissuade Julian from getting a job, too, but he and Saturn had day jobs. And Julian wanted something to occupy his time, even if he didn’t need the money.
“I don’t know,” Julian finally answered. “I’m already twenty-four.”
“That’s young!”
Bold words, coming from a sixteen-year-old. “I guess,” Julian replied. His mind jumped to the New Atlas University shirt that woman at the cafe had been wearing. He’d spent a fair amount of time looking at their website. Was she a student? Or did she just know someone at the school?
Julian shook off the thought. The sun would be setting soon. It was time to get ready.
His costume waited for him in his room. The pants and shirt were a deep shade of purple and, like any decent suit, made of a material sturdy enough to protect him from minor blows and small blades. Then there were the white gloves, the white boots, and the collared golden-yellow cape that fastened at the neck. Julian liked it, despite Blazar’s occasional jab—Still haven’t gotten rid of the cape yet?—but he wasn’t stupid. The fastener was easy to undo, so he could pull it off before any fight really got going.
The final piece was the bronze mask with rectangular slits for his green eyes to peer through. It was the most iconic part, too. The thing people thought of when they heard his name. There were five points at the top—the peak in the middle being the largest—that gave it a faint resemblance to a crown.
As Damselfly had noted, he had two masks: one that covered his entire face, and the one he’d be wearing tonight that left the bottom half exposed. It made conversation easier. And threatening heroes. A small device embedded in the bottom edge of the mask—designed by Lord Saturn—altered the sound waves of his voice as he spoke, deepening it enough that only people who knew him well would be able to recognize it.
Julian left his room and returned to the Complex’s entrance.
“I’ll watch you on the news!” Damselfly called as he reached the door. “Well, when my show’s on commercial.”
Julian paused in front of the elevator. “Don’t we have every streaming service?”
“I don’t think you know how TV works.” Damselfly waved her tablet. “Besides, if I don’t watch it live, I can’t follow what people are saying on social media.”
“Blazar might want to use the monitor to watch me.”
“I don’t think he’s coming by tonight.”
“We’ll see.” Julian could worry about Blazar later. It was time to focus.
Right now, he was Citadel.