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Chapter XI - Brain Damage

The smell of a nice, home cooked meal wafted through the semi-ruined cabin. It escaped mildly through the tarp that was draped over the hole David had caused in the den but otherwise, Caleb got a lungful of aromatic stew, fried chicken, buttery pie crusts and even the faint whiff of mashed potatoes. Comfort food. Clearly Jacob was trying to calm them all down with something that felt familiar and warm given the uncertainty that Assault now faced. It was still somewhat difficult, however, to push the events of the day from his mind given that there was a large hole between them and the master bedroom and David’s earth-shattering snores rocked most of the cabin. Even with the news on full blast, the rattling sound was a constant reminder to them that they now had a well-developed werewolf in their midst.

“The Elemental Alliance have yet to comment on why both Siren and Shockstorm missed their scheduled appearance here in Island Bay Square. Rumours suggest that they may have gone on some secret mission up north as eye witnesses claim to have seen them entering a portal heading to Toronto…”

Caleb reached for the remote and flicked off the screen. Not that anyone really noticed. Lance sat to his right, legs spread out with a bag of ice on his crotch. After having been woken up, he complained of a bit of chaffing and had to rest. His regeneration as a super helped him recover quickly enough so Caleb had to wonder if the ice was there to sooth some pain or to keep his brother from popping through his shorts again at the reminder of what just happened. A short distance away, Samson was leafing through his tablet, checking the news across the globe and occasionally tapping out messages likely to other members of the Alpha Pack. Maybe he was trying to remind everyone of his dominance. The revelations of what had happened at India and then the insult of Primal Steel going after Jacob instead of Samson must have shaken the Alpha Pack Leader to his core. On the opposite side of the room, Elliot was reading through his own tablet, one hand over his ears and the other supporting his chin. He looked irritated as he tried to block out the sounds of David’s snores. Just past the window, Caleb could see the flashes of blue light of Leon taking aim at some imaginary villain in the darkness. He knew his brother was pissed that he had missed the shot against David. Naturally, Jacob was in the kitchen, humming quietly to himself, tail swaying from side to side without a care in the world as he prepared dinner.

“Hey Samson,” Caleb began, breaking the silence. “Now that dad’s taken the first step to becoming a werewolf, does that mean he’s more stable now?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Samson lowered the tablet, his face unreadable. “The purpose of the two steps to becoming a werewolf is to establish yourself and your identity. Becoming a werewolf, especially if you are not born as one, means forsaking your previous ties as a family. Whether or not you infect the rest of your family is irrelevant. The moment you are infected, who you were gets tossed aside. By performing the act, your father has released his inner beast in a controlled fashion. But caging an already freed animal is… difficult. That is what the second step of becoming a werewolf truly is; adding responsibility and tempering the beast.”

“I think I understand,” Elliot said, his keen eyes focused on Samson. “The first step let the wolf out so that he doesn’t go Lycaon and break David. It’s like all that power was building inside of him. If he kept it inside, it would have shattered him mentally and left nothing but the beast. The second is to claim a pack or at least be accepted into a pack. That’ll make the beast realise that he is part of a world and a species as a whole, an identity. Keep him from going lone wolf. But until then, that bastard could get out at any time.”

“Not necessarily at any time,” Samson replied, a small smile on his face. “For now, David’s inner beast can still be considered a separate entity, almost like an instinctual defence mechanism. If he were ever to get knocked out or put into a heightened sense of fight or flight, that beast might just take control. However, as we’ve seen, he still has paw on the steering wheel. He might be able to revert back, if the beast is willing to relinquish control. Far from stable but still better than a Lycaon.”

Lance shuffled the ice pack from his groin. “I thought there were three parts of the ritual.”

“That’s just an Alpha Pack thing,” said Samson. “Realistically speaking, to become a stable werewolf, one just needs to relinquish your ties with your family and then become part of a pack, your new family. The orgy with the Alpha Pack is to establish your place within the Pack as being a werewolf and a super adds more responsibility to the burden of having to hide ourselves from the public.”

“So he really doesn’t need to fuck you guys?”

Leon’s sudden appearance gave Caleb a start. His oldest brother’s powers were truly frightening as none of them had noticed the wolf armed with the stasis rifle had entered the den.

“No but it is in his best interest,” Samson answered. “Think about it. Were anyone to ever figure out that he is not only a super but a werewolf, villains and superheroes alike would go after him. He is an incredibly powerful individual already but add to that the fact that he can manipulate metal and has the experience of an established super and he becomes a threat. By becoming part of the Alpha Pack, he has our support and our reputation that will shield it.”

“That and he can summon silver nitrate at any moment and probably take out any werewolf.”

That was very true. David was probably one of the most dangerous werewolves out there simply because he could conjure metal as well as manipulate it. Like those cliched stories about werewolves and vampires making some sort of hybrid that was to be hunted by both sides, David was a hybrid of super and werewolf that was extremely dangerous. Either side would want to control him.

“Dad…” Caleb muttered softly. “Just what have you gotten yourself into…?”

A soft chiming sound came from the kitchen.

“Come and get it!” Jacob exclaimed.

The snoring barely muted by the tarp abruptly stopped. Everyone froze. Caleb was already halfway out of his seat while Leon ominously cocked his rifle. Jacob lifted a frying pan. David groggily emerged out of the bedroom, dressed in only a bright blue jockstrap that left nothing to the imagination. He yawned loudly, smacking his lips before sniffing the air.

“That smells good, Lilly,” he mumbled. “Got some coffee for me, sweetheart?”

A mischievous grin crossed Jacob’s lips and Caleb rapidly shook his head, waving his paws to get the devilish wolf to stop whatever it is that he was plotting.

“Oh, of course baby,” Jacob cooed, lifting his voice to a surprisingly feminine tone. He sauntered over to David, pressing himself up against the newly-born werewolf and gripping one paw. “Would you like some cream with that?” He guided David’s paw towards his crotch… to which all the sleepiness dropped from David’s eyes and he stared at the grinning wolf beside him.

“What the fuck!?” He pushed Jacob away, the black-furred wolf laughing as he danced back behind the kitchen counter. “I will fucking kill you!”

“You tried that already, remember?” Jacob teased, grabbing some cutlery from a drawer. “Sure, we duked it out a little, but you haven’t seen half of my power.”

Samson rose from where he was seated. “In his defence, you haven’t seen half of David’s power either. Had he been in full control of his mental faculties and his powers, you likely would have had a harder time. Cosmic powers or no.” Whether or not he was saying that as fact or to support his ‘Alpha’, Caleb couldn’t be sure. The gesture was odd given how antagonistic Samson had been in the past to his father.

Jacob rolled his eyes as he set the plates and dishes. “I dunno. I still have a few surprises up my sleeve.”

David snorted. “You’re powerful, I’ll give you that, but you’re way too confident about your own abilities. Given time, I’m pretty sure I can work around your weapons.” He flexed a bicep and Caleb was sure it was bigger than he had ever seen before. “And besides, in terms of baseline super powers, I think I’ve got you beaten!”

“Maybe.” Jacob stuffed a fork in his muzzle and gave the newly initiated werewolf a sly smirk. “But you’ll never find out until you challenge me to a rematch.”

David rolled his shoulders, a savage grin on his muzzle. “Any time, any place Reaper!”

“After dinner at the least.” He set down the feast before them. “I worked hard on this. I’d like to enjoy it.”

The spread was definitely mouth-watering. In the short few hours since David’s transformation, Jacob had managed to cook a whole pork crown roast that had glistening, crackling golden skin and decorated with seasonal berries. Multiple helpings of steamed fish filled the air with the scent of the sea mixed with some freshly squeezed lemon and Asian-inspired herbs. The rich, reddish brew of beef stew sat within a very large pot, little pieces of carrots, onions and potatoes swimming in the thick broth. A creamy sweet corn soup with little flecks of egg-whites dancing amongst the kernels was available for those with a lighter appetite. Even the mashed potatoes looked intricate with slivers of green onions laced amongst the fluffy, starchy cloud.

“Holy shit!” Lance exclaimed. “When did you cook all this!?”

Jacob grinned brightly, offering a shrug in response. “I found time. Trust me, it’s less about the actual cooking than it is about the prep.” He winked at lance, sticking out a tongue playfully. “Get all the prep done first and then everything else falls into place. It’s called mise en place.”

“Jesus Wolf Christ…” David mumbled, his mouth watering. “You cook as well as Lillian.”

Leon rolled his eyes and sat down, far away from David. “If you start thinking about asking Jake to marry you, you can bet I’m going to put a bullet between your eyes.”

“Pup,” rumbled the alpha wolf. “Shut up.”

As was typical of wolves, the Hales sat down and began shovelling food into their muzzles, barely having time to chew. Caleb was already halfway through his second helping when he noticed the other diners. Elliot was a little intimidated by the huge wolves around him and was holding a napkin over his own food in a desperate attempt to keep any shrapnel from flying in. Samson ate with the grace of a dignitary; back straight, spoon and fork elegantly gripped and taking bites at a time while chewing soundlessly. Jacob was doing more chatting than eating, speaking to anyone he could between bites. It reminded him a little of the dinners back at home when things were much simpler. He would be constantly on edge even though Lance and Leon were stuffing their muzzles full of food. Elliot was a little like Abby, self-centred and aloof. David had Samson to make a sort of weird couple. Really the only one out of place was Jacob but maybe he could replace Mary whenever she came over for dinner every now and then.

Yet it would never be like it was once before. Everything had changed too much. There were things he would change and things that he would keep the same. Part of him wondered what life would be if he had never found out he was an Outsider or formed Arsenal. Would Lars and Ben still be dating as villain and superhero? Would Mary have revealed her powers to him? Would he have ever met Bren, Jake or Elliot? Would the Gene Stealers even be targeting him or his family or would he just be another victim?

“Something wrong Caleb?” Jacob asked.

Of course, it had to be Jacob. Always so observant.

“Just enjoying this meal,” he lied. “We really got to pick up on those cooking lessons again.”

His best friend rose from his seat, a fork still in one paw. “We can start right now if you want.”

“What?” he replied with surprise. “But everything is cooked! Unless you’ve got dessert somewhere in there.”

“Not dessert.” Jacob pierced a piece of potato with his fork and brought it to his muzzle with a smile. “More like after-dinner drinks. Come on and help me set up.” Reaper took a bite out of the potato wedge before setting down the rest of the meal and then heading back towards the kitchen. The movement distracted the ravenous wolves especially since Caleb followed his friend. Jacob opened one of the cupboards and retrieved what appeared to be a crate of different alcohols and spirits.

“What’re you planning?” Caleb asked warily.

“I am still a bartender and I thought I’d put those techniques to good use to make each of you your own customised drinks.” He pulled out two different bottles, each with differently coloured liquids. “It’s Made-For-You-Cocktail-Night!”

His features brightened immediately. “Sweet!” Then he became aware of a fiery stare from his dad. “I… I mean… I’m technically underage so I really can’t drink anything.”

Jacob rolled his eyes and began unpacking the bottles. “Please. You’re a high school football star. I’m pretty sure you’ve had your fair share of alcohol in the past. If you haven’t gotten wasted at this point, then that’s another type of ‘virginity’ that you’ve got to lose.” He seemed entirely oblivious to David’s growling. “Besides, I need your help with the prep. Can you start cutting some of those lemons into wedges and can you put some iced water into a bowl?”

Perhaps it was the fact that Jacob wasn’t getting him to handle any alcohol directly, but David stopped his snarling and wandered over, a plate still in his paws and shovelling his meal into his muzzle without any cutlery. Everyone had their curiosity piqued and followed suit. Jacob was a wizard as he moved the beverages into a specific order and began plucking different types of glasses for each of the drinks to be prepared. He gave Caleb instructions on things to prepare and he had to wonder exactly why he had to juice a fresh apple while cutting another one into thin slices, whip some cream, place a thin layer of sugar into small ceramic disks and even make that crepe batter he had been taught not too long ago. Instructions he could follow without any problems. Seeing how they all fit together into a whole was the problem.

“Alright. Who goes first?” Jacob said, clapping his paws.

“Ooh! Me!” Lance exclaimed, lifting all four of his paws into the air.

“I guess Feral Fang has everyone beat given he’s got more paws than everyone else.” Jacob grabbed a glass that was without a neck and looked vaguely teardrop shaped. Holding it out to Caleb, he said, “This is called a tumbler glass. Shaped to be easily handled and to emphasise the aromatics of the spirit inside. Generally, this is the kind of glass you see mafia bosses or villains swirling around in their hands while addressing their rivals.”

“Uh… Okay. If you’re sure.” The glass seemed a little delicate and small for Lance.

Jacob took the tumbler glass back and then set it on the counter. “Caleb, I need you to make a tuile.”

He was drawing a blank. “Ah… what?”

“It’s basically a really thin caramel, wafer-thin candy. I’ll teach you how to make it.”

Caleb felt like he was once again taking cooking lessons from Chef Glandoir again with the rest of Arsenal watching him prepare caramel, roll it out and then bake it lightly until it was firm. All the while, he watched Jacob mix a variety of different spirits and the freshly squeeze apple juice that he had made. Jacob poured a bright green, clear liquid into six different tumbler glasses, filling each one almost to the top. Then he took out some fondant and added a drop of green food colouring into it. Caleb was charged with kneading the fondant until it was nice and evenly green. A single slice of apple was dropped into the fruity alcohol just in time for the tuile to be done. The sheet of caramel was sliced into four pieces and then rolled into a thin rod. Jacob then plucked some of the fondant from Caleb and using a knife that almost looked like a scalpel, he cut thin pieces shaped into leaves. He attached one leaf on top of each tuile and then placed it into the brew like an edible straw.

“I call this the Forbidden Fruit,” Jacob said, holding out one of the glasses to Lance. “Let’s face it, Lance is the kind of guy that gets off the things that are considered taboo in our society. So, in keeping with that theme while also commenting on how he’s really a big sweat heart, I’ve concocted this fruity, apple-themed drink.”

“Since when is an apple forbidden?” Leon asked.

Elliot rolled his eyes. “Ingrate. Modern interpretations of the Original Sin when it comes to Catholic creation myth places the fruit that Adam and Even ate as an apple. In reality, it’s more likely a quince but Hollywood decided apples are more easily recognised than quinces.”

“Oh!” Jacob suddenly said, resting the tumbler back on the table. “Almost forgot.” He plucked another type of drink from the vast array before him. “Something to really add to the ‘forbidden’ nature of this drink.” He opened the bottle and a sweet, earthy, creamy scent hit Caleb’s nostrils. He couldn’t identify it. Jacob plugged the lip of the bottle with his thumb and then tilted the bottle towards the glasses. A small, sticky white droplet dripped out from the small gap offered and dropped into the brew. Heavier than the rest of the mixture, the droplet retained its shape and slowly sank to the bottom of the tumbler glass.

“It’s funny,” Caleb began innocently. “When you drip it in like that, it almost looks like -”

Then it hit him… and everyone else in the room.

Even David couldn’t keep himself from snickering as Lance’s cheeks turned bright red and Jacob dropped a little bit of ‘cum’ into each glass. Each of them plucked a glass for themselves. Caleb used the tuile to drink some of the liquid and was surprised at just how fruity it was. The taste of apple came in very strongly - likely because of the apple juice he had squeezed - and he barely got any alcohol. The only time he really got that hit was when he drank some of the creamy bourbon. That was likely the intended effect and he couldn’t help but smirk at his older brother. Everyone had turned to him and was doing everything they could to embarrass the four-armed titan. Leon was slurping at the tuile, running his tongue up and down its length rather seductively. Elliot was swirling the drink with the tuile, toying with the drops of bourbon at the bottom. Samson was giving Lance ‘the eye’.

David…

Well, David downed half the brew, grabbed the back of Lance’s head and then mashed their lips together.

Caleb, along with everyone else, threw their hand sup and cheered. It was funny how little they cared that this was a father kissing his son while forcibly shoving an alcoholic drink down said son’s throat. Lance’s knees went weak and his eyelids fluttered. Even without looking at this brother’s crotch, he was sure Lance was starting the get hard.

David pulled his muzzle away, letting out a loud, refreshed, “Ah!” as if he had just finished drinking. “Good job, Reaper. I like this!”

“Do me next!” Elliot exclaimed.

Jacob smiled. “Alright.”

Eager to help, Caleb only took one more sip from his drink before setting it down. Strangely, Jacob had him pluck out a packet of nacho cheese Doritos and start grinding them up in a mortar and pestle until they were a fine powder. From the corner of his eye, he saw his friend pluck out six shot glasses and three different kinds of drinks, one was the same creamy bourbon that he had used with Lance. Jacob then began carefully pouring the contents of the bottles into each of the shot glasses. There were three different colours; the white, a light, caramel brown and then a deep dark black. He had to tilt the glass slightly as he poured so that even when he set the glasses down, each of the three liquids did not mix with one another leaving a beautifully crafted shot glass with three distinct liquids. Then he added a light dusting of the fine Doritos powder on to.

“This is the Snack Attack,” Jacob said, pushing the shot glasses towards each of them.

“Why do I only get a shot?” Elliot complained, picking up one such glass and frowning at it.

Glad to have all attention away from him, Lance downed the shot in one gulp. His eyes flashed and he let out a gasp. “Oooh!”

Curious at the reaction, Caleb downed the shot himself. The taste was… Sweet, nutty, savoury and a little bit more alcoholic than Lance’s. But there was a familiarity with the taste that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It reminded him of his childhood; of asking his mom to buy him things at the grocery store, of sneaking such snacks whenever he could… it was…

“It’s like a Snickers bar!” Samson exclaimed. “Amazing!”

David gave him a dubious look. “You know what a Snickers bar is?”

“Wealth cannot overcome genius. If something tastes good, you buy it. Doesn’t matter if it’s from a supermarket checkout counter or served on a silver platter.”

Jacob beamed at the reaction. “That’s kind of what I was going for. Let’s face it, Elliot loves his snacks but at the same time, it’s a good comfort to have. It’s bad for us the end but he like it. It’s just like Elliot. He supports us, gives us great insights but…” He held up his finger and thumb an inch from one another. “… we can only take him in small doses.”

Elliot flushed. “Hey!”

“Who’s next?” Jacob exclaimed, ignoring the cry.

Leon held up his paw. “Why the hell not?” Caleb’s eldest brother leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “Do me, Reaper.”

“Certainly a challenge,” answered Jacob, waggling his eyebrows. “Okay… let’s see… Whiskey glasses…”

Six square glasses were produced, similar to Lance’s tumbler glasses but with more edges. Unlike the other drinks, this was the first one that Jacob dropped ice cubes inside. Then he retrieved three different liquids but oddly enough, they were all clear. Curious, Caleb watched as Jacob mixed all three of them into one of those shakers that he’d seen bartenders use and then give them a shake. Seeing his attention, Jacob handed the shaker to him to give it a try. With all eyes on him all of the sudden, Caleb showed off and gave the metal canister a shaker first to his right, then to his left. He got a few approving hoots from Leon and Lance. Grinning, he handed it back to Jacob who then poured the entirely clear liquid into each of the drinks. A wedge of lemon was added into each.

“That’s… Honestly kind of boring,” Leon admitted. “You trying to tell me something, Reaper?”

“Not done yet.”

A small phial of bright red liquid was pluck from the assortment of drinks and unlike the others, when Jacob opened the stopper, it came with a tiny dropper. Samson sucked in air through his teeth.

“That’s Ghost Pepper Wine, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Jacob answered, taking the dropper and just adding a single drop into each of the glasses. The bright red liquid slipped between the ice, forming sinister, curling tendrils in the otherwise clear liquid. “Just like our good friend Leon, the Silent Killer, is at first unassuming but has much more hidden beneath the surface. Take it for granted and it’ll give you a kick. That’s why I also put ice cubes in this one. Much like the common iceberg, I know we’ve only seen the surface of what Leon can do. This is the first time he’s actively been using his powers, after all. We’ve only scratched the surface of his capabilities.”

Leon grinned and swiped one of the glasses. He held it up towards David. “Hear that, dad? Just the tip of the iceberg!”

David rolled his eyes and took another glass. There was no confrontation, however. He begrudgingly toasted to Leon and then both of them took a sip form the drink. Their eyes bulged almost immediately and they gagged.

“Holy shit!” Leon cried, clawing at his throat. “It burns!”

David’s eyes were watering. “Holy mother of fuck!” He began waving his paw in front of his eyes. “I… I… I think I’m going blind!”

Samson immediately held up his hands and took a step away. “I am not touching that. Ghost Pepper Wine is not only highly alcoholic but it is notoriously spicy. People have been known to hallucinate when they drink it.”

Jacob already had some milk ready. He didn’t even get to pour an entire glass before David swiped it and guzzled the entire glass. Leon just took the bottle and drank it all. Caleb glanced at the brew before him and waited until Leon was done before he dared a sip. It took a while second before his throat suddenly caught on fire. It was like he had swallowed liquid magma. If steam could erupt from his ears, it would have. The fire went down his entire throat and seemed to burn a hole into his stomach. He grabbed the milk from Leon and began downing it immediately.

They had to take a five minute break for the three Hales who had dared to devour the toxic drink to recover.

Then it was Samson’s turn.

“What to get the werewolf that has everything?” Jacob mused. He snapped his fingers a second later. “Ah, I know.” He reached into the little mini-city of bottles and picked up what appeared to be a rather expensive looking bottle of wine. Samson’s eyes immediately boggled.

“Is… is that a bottle of ‘89 Chardonnay!?” Samson exclaimed.

“2989 isn’t that long ago,” Elliot muttered. “I never understood how people could get so excited over a decade-old, wine.”

“No 2989,” Jacob said with a grin. “1989.”

There, Elliot’s face and jaw fell. “You’re kidding me! How the fuck did you get a bottle from 19-fucking-89? That’s a fucking relic!”

Jacob grinned and set the seemingly unassuming dark-green bottle in front of them. There was no label. Just the bottle and a brown cork at the top. It would’ve been impossible to tell that it was actually wine that had been aged for over a millennium. “Whether you believe my story or not about helping the furs come to this world, I had access to this reality long before I met all of you. I just happened to pop in 1989 and decided to set myself a bottle should I ever come back. Of course, time is relative and while it may have been a millennium to you, to me, it’s maybe a decade or so since I was last here. Still, I could think of no better time to open this baby than now.”

“My good sir,” Samson said, “I would be honoured.”

“Not so fast.” Jacob held up a paw as he produced six wine glasses. “There’s things I still need to do to this thing.”

Both Elliot and Samson’s features fell.

“What… things…?” Elliot asked.

With a devilish grin, Jacob produced the bowl of whipped cream that Caleb had prepared beforehand.

“No…” Samson whimpered. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Just watch me.”

Jacob popped open the cork of the wine and poured it haphazardly into each of the glasses. Some even spilt on the counter. Both Elliot and Samson howled at the atrocity and rushed at Jacob, trying to take the wine from him.

CLANG! CLANG!

The two were so preoccupied with the paw that held the bottle that neither of them had noticed Jacob had reached down and plucked a frying pan from the side of the counter. Caleb grimaced as both the King of the Werewolves and King of the Nerds collapsed to the ground, dazed.

“How’d a frying pan knock out those two?” Lance asked.

Jacob grinned fiendishly and flipped the frying pan in his paws. “This is no ordinary frying pan. “It immediately caught fire, much to everyone’s surprise. “This is my Flaming Frying Pan of Doom.”

Caleb had to repeat that name repeatedly in his head while he watched Jacob pour some of the crepe batter into the pan, flip it and then pour some of the wine inside the fiery pan. The red flames of the pan flared up upon contact with the alcohol and the sweet aroma of the red wine filled the room. This roused both Samson and Elliot. They watched dejectedly as Jacob offered them the crepes, some whipped cream, fresh grapes and a glass of the unsullied wine. On top of the cream, were little golden shavings.

“The Prince and the Pauper,” Jacob announced. “Needless to say, this represents Samson’s affluent lifestyle but also the fact that he’s rather grounded. He may flaunt his richest and influence at us from time to time but he is still capable of appreciating the simpler things in life. Bon appettite.”

In truth, Caleb really couldn’t tell what was so special about the wine since he couldn’t tell a ‘good’ red wine to a ‘bad’ one. The crepes and cream were amazing, however.

“Now comes my most technically challenging drink,” Jacob announced, rubbing his paws together. “Caleb, I’m going to need your help again.”

Again, there were three different liquids. One was an opaque silvery colour like the creamy bourbon. Another was a bright, bubbling blue and the last was a clear, deep red. Measurements were important, however, as Caleb had to measure exactly a certain amount of each liquid into the tall, flute glasses. Once one liquid was poured, both he and Jacob worked together to use a pair of tweezers to take the thin sugar disks like the tuiles and slip them horizontally into each of the glasses. These disks were thicker and acted almost like a barrier. Then came the next layer - again with precise measurements. Using the technique Jacob had shown him, he tilted the glass slightly to the side before pouring the liquid down, letting the alcohol bounce off the sides of the glass to cushion some of its blow and ensure that it didn’t slip past the sugar disk and into the layer below. Once that was done, came the last layer.

“This is Equilibrium,” Jacob said, slowly and gently pushing one of the glasses towards David. “David, you’re faces with three identities. Feral Steel, David Hale and now Primal Steel. Each of them form some part of your life and each of them must exist in an equilibrium. Separately, they are powerful but together and in the proper quantities…” Jacob used a thin skewer and drove it straight down into the drink, piercing the sugar barrier. The top two liquids - the blue and red - began mixing together and much to his amazement, they formed a bright, vibrant purple. Then he drove it deeper and pierced the last layer. The creaminess mixed with the purple to form a soft, gentle, opaque, violet. “… they are stronger than the sum of their parts.”

Caleb took the drink himself and sipped at the top layer. It was quite strong and boozy. But when he added the second layer, it added a fruity flavour that helped mellow out the alcohol. Once the last layer was added, it was smoother. Added with the sugar that added a bit of sweetness, it made a very balanced, well-rounded flavour. Looking at his dad, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was a lesson in balancing his power and responsibilities.

“And last but not least!” Jacob announced. “Caleb, your drink!”

David held up a paw even as he still sipping his drink through a straw. “Hold up, Reaper. Hmmm… This is good…” He set down his drink. “I think I’ve let this gone on far enough. No serving booze to my underage son.”

“Dad!” Caleb whined. “Everyone else got a drink!”

Samson placed paw on David’s shoulder and pulled him back slightly. “The law may be absolute, David, but we have the choice to enforce it. Even you must admit that not all laws are fair. Your son is far more mature and responsible than most other people out there. I think he’s more than capable of holding his alcohol. Besides, he’s already had more to drink than most of us given he tried the Silent Killer. One more won’t hurt.”

David relented.

“Don’t worry, David,” Jacob said, picking up six martini glasses. “This one will be special and the choice will be there to make it alcoholic or not.”

Caleb inclined his head in confusion. How could you choose to make an alcoholic drink alcoholic? Was he going to make a ‘virgin’ version for each of them and then give them a little shot glass to add if they pleased? He almost felt like he was being singled out just for his age. Before he could protest, however, Jacob gave him a bottle of a black drink and told him to pour a bit of something called ‘agar-agar’ into it.

“Just a little bit, though. We don’t want it to be like tapioca.”

“Huh?”

Even though he wondered at what this recipe called for, Caleb obeyed and followed Jacob’s instructions to first head the boozy drink - without boiling it - and then add the agar-agar. He took it off the head while Jacob instructed him to use the shaker on what appeared to be a mango smoothie. He did so while watching as Jacob carefully used a dropper to deposit some droplets of the black mixture into the bowl of ice water that had been prepared earlier. It was to his surprise that the droplets immediately formed into black spheres, like pearls. When they were both done, Jacob poured what appeared to be some strawberry concentrate into the bottom of the martini glasses followed by Caleb pouring the sweet smoothies, leaving just a little bit to avoid overflowing. Jacob encrusted the edges with some sugar and then, together, they dropped pieces of the pearls into the bottom of the glass. As a finishing tough, a few mint leaves were dropped on top.

“I call this Crossroads,” Jacob said, pushing the glasses towards each of the diners. “Just like Caleb, this drink comes with a powerful choice and often with unpredictable consequences. Each of the balls at the bottom can be ‘popped’ to let loose a burst of alcoholic flavour. You can, of course, completely avoid this and just leave them alone and enjoy a virgin mango and strawberry daiquiri but then you won’t get all of the experience that comes with it. Enjoy!”

On the surface, it seemed like the perfect match. His powers were still quite unpredictable, and he often had to take the risk of using it. But then, deeper down, he realised that it was something else. As that a commentary on his fear of using Live Wire? Was Jacob telling him to take the plunge and pop those bursts of darkness that lay beneath the bright, sunny facade that he put on?

Trust Reaper to pierce the heart of the matter.

With each of them served their drinks, the party retired to the front porch where the sun was just on the verge of starting to set. The Canadian wilderness cut a peaceful, idealistic scene against the backdrop of the gentle pinks, oranges and reds of the setting sun. After all the excitement of the last few days, Caleb was glad for some peace and quiet. The absence of Lars was still a painful reminder that he was far from done and that he should not rest quite yet but after David’s transformation, he was glad that particular ‘episode’ was closing with some degree of peace.

David suddenly jumped to his feet. “I’m brimming with energy!” he announced. “Who wants to go on a run?”

Remembered the definition of ‘runs’ that his dad had imposed on him when he had learned he was Weapons Master, Caleb purposefully ducked his head.

“That’s just the werewolf in you talking,” Samson said, finishing off his cocktail. “Mixed with your genes as a super, you’re going to feel far more energetic than before. You can’t let it go to your head.” Then the Werewolf King rose to his feet. “Though I suppose that this would be a good opportunity to train you on how to best use your powers and what these new abilities mean for you.”

David grinned at the challenge. “Wanna race, old man?”

There was something adorable about his dad calling Samson ‘old man’.

“I’m up for it!” Lance announced, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He flexed his upper biceps. “No werewolf can beat me!”

They sounded a little drunk but at the same time, their energy was infectious. “I’d like to join you guys but you’ll just leave me behind,” Caleb admitted. A soft, thoughtful hum came from Jacob a short distance away. “Something on your mind, Jake?”

The black-furred wolf shrugged and rose. “I was hoping to surprise you on our return to West California Island but since I need to give Elliot his power armour anyway, why not?” He tapped his left ear and it occurred to Caleb that his friend had the communicator in his ear the entire time. “Hey Nate, bring in the package. Both of them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

A few seconds late, the air shimmered in front of them as an AEGIS transport dropped its cloaking field. The large, helicopter-like dropship unfurled its rear door into a ramp. AEGIS troops wheeled out Elliot’s brand new power armour it which the orca squealed in delight. He got off the small chair he had been perched on and waddled up to the big, black suit.

“I took the liberty of having it upgraded with a neural interface,” Jacob explained even as Elliot began unlocking the rear of the suit so that he could hop it. “It’ll now directly take commands as if it were part of your flesh so you won’t have to rely on your own strength to move the servos. It should also improve your response time. The interface has its own power source as well so you won’t have to worry about the suit losing power and you getting stuck in it.”

“This is so awesome!” Elliot exclaimed, pumping his - and by extension, the armour’s - fists into the air. “It feels like I’m wearing nothing at all!”

“Please don’t be tempted,” Jacob chuckled. “Cleaning that thing would be hard.” He then turned to Caleb, a smile on his muzzle. “And for you…”

AEGIS troops began rolling out another piece of equipment from the transport; a familiar gold and black motorcycle.

“Ballistic!” Caleb exclaimed, bounding over to the vehicle.

Like Elliot’s power armour, it didn’t look like it had been modified but he knew the bike that he had paid for and customised himself back to front. The new gear that was available on the gearshift titled ‘H’ was too tempting not to activate. The moment he pulled the trigger, the wheels of the bike suddenly bounced slightly into the air, pushing the vehicle about a foot off the ground. They then shifted, moving to a horizontal position while a faint, blue light emanated from them. The bike remained hovering.

“Holy shit!” Caleb exclaimed. “Hover-tech!? You equipped Ballistic with hover-tech!?”

Jacob shrugged with a grin. “I knew David had it patched with a space-time fold engine but I got to wondering why the police force could have hovercars while you couldn’t. Would be good against aerial villains as well if we were ever faced with any.”

In the United States, hover technology was heavily restricted to law enforcement and everyone still have to use the ageing roads and infrastructure with some still crumbling and untouched after the Apocalypse. There were always political debates about it and more than a few candidates used free use of hover-tech as a platform for their campaigns. Having one of his very own was both exhilarating and filled him with this sense of snubbing the law. Maybe he wouldn’t be such a ‘boy scout’ now that he technically had forbidden technology.

“You know you’re going to have to get a new licence and training to operate that thing, right?” Leon said. “The tests are brutal. You’re moving in more than just two dimensions, after all.”

Ignoring his eldest brother, Caleb jumped onto the bike and immediately revved the engine. He easily spun the bike through the air, soaring high and doing a few laps around the cabin.

“I think he’s a natural,” Jacob chuckled. “If you feel like giving it a test run, Caleb, why not go with your dad on his little race?”

“Are you kidding me!? He’s been drinking! That’s wildly irresponsible!”

Caleb grinned down at his brother. “Then why don’t you come along and stop me, Leon!?” He let out a howl as he popped an ‘aerial wheelie’. “Come on, dad! Race ya!”

David grinned from ear to ear. “That’s what I’m talking about!” He let his own howl, louder and for dominating than his son’s. Lance joined him and then the three Hales were shooting off into the forest. Samson sighed, acting like the exasperated adult watching over children, but there was an air of excitement in his slumped shoulders as he bolted after the wolves. All four of them disappeared into the tree line but not before David began leaping off the ground and bouncing from tree trunk to tree trunk, trying to catch Caleb who was comfortably airborne and weaving between the branches and canopies like a professional.

“They could get hurt,” Leon snarled.

“And chasing a supervillain around the globe will leave them safe and comfortable?” Jacob asked, taking his seat once more. “Trust me, Leon. People need a little bit of recklessness in their lives. There can be no reward without a little bit of risk. Let them have their fun.”

“Yeah, you’re just pissed that you can’t join them,” Elliot snickered. The orca slipped back out of his power armour and waddled back to his seat and unfinished drink.

Leon, quietly fuming, sat down as well. “I so could if I wanted.”

“Don’t let life pass you by on the premise of being ‘responsible’ or ‘safe’,” Jacob advised. “There’s a difference between being cautious and just being afraid.”

The young wolf’s fur fluffed out. “I’m not scared!”

He turned a calm, expectant look towards the wolf. “You sure about that?”

Leon averted his gaze and got to his feet. “Whatever. I’m not here to be psychoanalysed by you, Reaper.” He turned back towards the cabin to leave. “I gotta take a leak.”

The door slammed shut as Leon departed.

“What’s he got to be scared about?” Elliot asked. “As far as I see things, he’s got the power to disappear and escape any situation he gets himself into. He’s probably the safest of us all. Or is he the kind of guy that’s scared for others or something?”

Jacob shook his head and leaned back into his chair while the howls of the wolves echoed against the rapidly setting sun. “He’s more scared about his dad’s newfound power leaving a bigger gap between them. Leon was hoping that this entire expedition would finally prove to David that he is more than capable of holding his own and that he has what it takes to be a superhero.”

The orca rolled his eyes and let out a loud groan. “And here I thought he’d be one of those guys that wouldn’t turn to the stereotypical super mentality.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“Haven’t you noticed that every super out there is ridiculously fit? I mean, no offence to you, but every superhero out there is ripped! Whether it’s just because of their genes or the fact that they’re always out there fighting crime, they’re all stacked! That stereotype is just toxic though. You’re going to get people who want to be superheroes spending hours at the gym trying to build their bodies. I mean, did you know that there are actually high schools built exclusively to make sure that when a person’s powers are revealed, they’re in the top physical shape that they could possibly be so that they’re more likely to be accepted by some sort of hero group?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. It’s just like a prep school.”

“Right but it implants this image in people’s minds that a superhero has got to have pectorals bigger than their heads, a six-pack, minimum and huge arms and legs!”

“I find it funny that your description of the ideal superhero relates to both genders.”

Elliot gave him a coy smile that faded as quickly as it came. “Still, it’s stupid. You can’t have your plus-sized heroes or average looking heroes because every super just has to be this ideal specimen of their race. They need to be gods amongst men.”

“I’m thinking that this is also a commentary about your own physique and status as an Outsider?”

The orca gave him a sidelong glance. “Leon was right to walk out. Your psychoanalysing is a little grating.” He took a sip from his cocktail. “Why don’t you turn that talent to something more creative like our enemies?”

“Alright then,” Jacob said, crossing his arms behind his head. “In my opinion Migraine is probably going to be a Manipulator.”

“Huh?” came the confused response.

“There are lots of archetypes when it comes to villains. As much as they want to deviate from it, your commentary on how all supers have to have this certain physique also applies to villains. Even they suffer from the crippling societal norm that shapes their minds and bodies. Tibia, for instance, was your typical Warrior archetype. Sure he was self-aware of his own role as a villain and tried to deviate from it but as a Warrior, he was less about trickery and intelligence and more about blowing stuff up. The Gimp was clearly a Mastermind. He was aware of his role in the grander scheme and played with our heads. Migraine is likely a Manipulator. The kind of villain that will play with our objectives, relationships and past to force us to fight one another or even those that we care about.”

Elliot was silent for a moment. “What makes you say that? What else could he be?”

“He could be a Saboteur,” Jacob said with a shrug. “He’s the one that will plant himself in our ranks and betray us at the last moment but given that we’re already aware of his loyalties, he’s either going to surrender or try and trick us into thinking he’s switched sides. I don’t think he’s the Vigilante. That’s the kind of villain that believes his cause to be right but is kind of brutal in how they go about their objectives. Given his calculated methods and experience, I doubt he’s the Psycho; the villain that just hurts people for the sake of it and with little rhyme or reason.” Jacob shrugged his broad shoulder. “There are other archetypes like the Overlord, Collector, Oligarch or Liberator but the Legion of Pain strikes me as one of those six.”

“Why? Why those six in particular?”

He gave Elliot a coy smile. “I’ve been studying their dossiers too, you know. It’s pretty clear that the members of the Legion were those that escaped alongside Tibia all those weeks ago so it’s pretty obvious who we should be focusing our attention on.” He closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh. “I suppose the only thing left is figuring out what the Gene Stealers offered them that made them so loyal.”

A thoughtful sound came from the orca beside him. “How would you counter guys like that? I mean, without my power armour I’d be turned to shreds by all these supers. I don’t want to sacrifice my baby again in a last ditch attempt that I’m fairly sure they’d survive.”

Jacob lifted a finger. “The Manipulator strives on conflict. It’s less about the joy of fighting him as it is about fighting in general. He’s a little like the Gimp; trying to inflict as much pain as possible while delaying our tactics. A self-aware Manipulator will know that they can’t win in the end but is going to force our hands to the point where someone has to die or suffer greatly in order to progress. He’s going to try to restrict our freedom. Make it so that we have to fight one another or make a sacrifice to get to him. The key to victor is remembering that there is always a choice. No matter how grim it gets, no matter what the Manipulator says, we always have a choice.”

“Give an example.”

Jacob opened one eye at Elliot. “Say you were pitted against David. Maybe there’s a deadly gas filling the room and it’ll only drain away if one of you dies. You can’t jump out of your power armour because the gas will kill you in a few seconds and David is only able to survive a whole minute because he’s a werewolf and a super. You’ve only got your stasis gun, David’s powers and your armour. What would you do?”

The orca shrugged. “Try and hack the system to get out, I suppose.”

“System secure. No interface from your end.”

“Try to bash open the door.”

“Diamond-reinforced, anti-super steel. Can’t be broken by David or your power armour.”

Elliot scrunched up his face. “I don’t know. What’d you do? Fight David into submission? Sacrifice yourself? Not like if you die, you’ll actually die.”

“I still have responsibilities that I can’t give up on,” Jacob said. “And if I were in that situation, I’d still try and find a way out. Maybe have faith in my teammates that they will rescue me. The point is, the Manipulator is going to try and force choices upon you and make you believe those are your only choices. You have to ignore whatever it is that they’re saying and just focus on the mission.” He made a slicing motion through the air. “Just get to the heart of the problem. Maybe get David to smash the ground since it’s only the door that’s reinforced. Maybe use your stasis gun on yourself and David, let the place fill with gas and just wait it out. There’s also the possibility you could use your super genius to modify the filtration system of your armour to turn the poisonous gas inert.”

“I can do that?”

Jacob shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Like I said, don’t fall for the Manipulator’s tricks. There are ways around them.”

“Huh,” Elliot mumbled. “It almost sounds like the Gimp was more a Manipulator than Migraine.”

“The Gimp was a Mastermind. He laid out traps, used our own weaknesses against us and tried to get under our skin. The difference is that Masterminds will make you your own worst enemy. Manipulators will pitch you against your allies. Both are schemers and plotters but they both had different ways of approaching their intended goals. The Gimp may have pitched Samson and David against one another but I think that was more out of getting them to injure their own pride against another alpha than anything else.”

“If you say so.”

The door to the cabin sprang open and Leon returned, looking a little more relieved and a bit more cooled off. “What are you dorks talking about?” he rumbled, slipping into his jock mentality.

“Just wondering how we’re going to hit Migraine tomorrow,” Jacob answered. “I think we’ve got a solid plan of attack. Assuming nothing wrecks it, I think we’ll be in a good place.”

“You planning to use Mugen Kosetsu or Sturmsplater out again?” Leon asked.

Jacob waved a paw in his fellow wolf’s direction. “Naw. I’m going to keep them guessing. Probably bring out something new.”

Leon sat back down and they chatted idly amongst one another until the stars were out. Just as he was starting to get worried, Ballistic’s headlights flashed through the trees. Caleb came rushing back, ahead of the pack with David and Samson close by. Lance, spluttering with twigs and leaves all over his body, came in dead last as he was the only one that had to run along the ground. Given the poor guy’s wide physique, he probably had a hard time navigating the densely packed trees. Caleb landed Ballistic in front of them and let out his victory howl. He then rushed straight towards Jacob and caught the black-furred wolf in a tight hug.

“Ballistic handled like a dream, Jake! Thank you so much!”

Jacob laughed softly and clapped Caleb’s shoulder. “I’m glad you like it.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “Now what do you say we all get some sleep? We hit Migraine in the morning.”

“He won’t know what hit him!”

******

Going down for the night was an arduous task. Like his father, Caleb was buzzing with energy. Whether it was the alcohol or the rush he got from flying an airborne Ballistic, he was remiss to lie down a bed and sleep until morning. Still, he knew that this was necessary for a proper assault upon Migraine’s base. So, after brushing his teeth, stripping off into his just underwear, he slipped beneath the sheets in the bed in the room he shared with Jacob. The cabin wasn’t big enough for each of them to have a room and with the master bedroom still needing cleaning, he was rooming with his best friend. Lance and Leon were naturally in the same room as one another while David and Samson were as far from one another as possible. Elliot was the only one with a room to himself but it was one adjacent to the two competing Alphas and he was fairly sure that they would try to ‘out snore’ one another at one point.

Jacob was already in his bed, propped up against the headrest and with a tablet in his paws. Unlike Caleb, he was dressed in a shirt and judging by the fact that he had one leg sticking out from beneath the sheets, a pair of loose pants. A bout of self-consciousness reminded Caleb that he was basically dressed down to his boxers in the presence of the leader of the No Ones.

“What’re you reading?” he asked, resting back into the pillow, arms folded behind his head.

“Just a guide on what to do in Toronto. I know we’re encroaching on the school week right now but from what I figure, in this world you guys stay in school for about the first twenty-five years of your lives. Admittedly, you live past a hundred normally but still, I’m sure you can miss a few days. Plus it seems that most of the public are understanding if you miss a day or two. Super-related incidents happen so often that it’s apparently a miracle if a class if full.”

“It’s true,” he answered with a shrug. “But there are provisional classes you can take that will help you catch up. Summer school is basically a given and most teachers are understanding if you get a note written up by your parents. It’s hard to fake that as well because those notes can be investigated by local law enforcement and people can be charged with fraud.”

“Harsh.”

Caleb twisted his ears towards his friend and fellow lupine. “What was school like in your home world?”

“Hmmm…” began Jacob. “Kind of the same here by all standards except people sort of have superpowers as a given.”

“Really? Everyone was born with them?”

“I’m over simplifying it.” Jacob set down the tablet and gave him a faint smile. “Think of it like this huge corporation basically bottled up all superpowers in existence and then gave it to everyone at a cost. Our world became inundated with infinite possibilities. Anyone can use any superpower. The only problem was your synchronisation rate with a particular power. Not everyone can throw lightning bolts at the same rate as another person and similarly, not everyone can generate fire to the level of an inferno. Some people might just manage a spark. Other people might be able to conjure entire firestorms.”

Caleb tried imaging such a world but couldn’t wrap his head around it. The mere thought that everyone had access to all abilities, albeit at different rates, made him question a lot of aspects of that existence. “Won’t there be a lot of villains or people who abuse that power?”

“Absolutely. My world was incredibly militaristic. The corporation I told you about was basically its own nation and had its own army on top of armies from other countries. We were in a state of constant war with one force or another. We had roving gangs of raiders drunk on power, underworld bosses with access to great powers and corrupt leaders who used their power to get ahead of everyone. Naturally there were people who fought against these kinds of injustices but it wasn’t like here where you’ve got caped crusaders flying around trying to rescue those who can’t help themselves. Everyone had the capacity to fight… assuming they could buy the ability.”

“Geez…” Caleb winced. “It’s like capitalism with superpowers.”

Jacob chuckled at the comparison. “Kind of is. But going back to your original question, school mostly revolved around training how to use these powers. Sure there were standard classes like history, mathematics, languages and the like but we had training on how to use the powers that were granted to us by the school. When you think about it, it’s actually quite sinister. The corporation gives schools the ability to let students borrow the powers for the duration of their tenure there and then take it away. Having tasted that power, the students will naturally try and get it again so they end up working for the very corporation in an attempt to get that rush. Sort of corporate brainwashing when you think about it.”

“Did you fall for it?”

“Nah. My dad hated the corporations. Insisted on a life and home without their ‘powers’. When mom died, he kind of had a mental breakdown and I dropped out of high school to take care of him. Made my living as a courier.”

Caleb propped himself up on an elbow, grinning at Jacob. “Wow, really? A courier? I can’t imagine you dressed in one of those ridiculous shorts running around bringing people their mail.”

“Make no mistake, a Worldrider was more than just a courier.” Jacob returned the grin at him. “Think of us as elite spies. My world was constantly in danger because of people who either abused their powers or just people in general. Worldriders were specially trained to get their packages to their destinations. We even had our own combat styles and it all spawned from not using any of the abilities that were made mainstream. Trained in hand-to-hand combat, use of various weapons and often considered the force that would tip the balance in a battle. Being a Worldrider also meant you could be sent all over the world.”

He sat back into his bad with a soft smile on his muzzle. “Your world sounds so alien compared to mine.”

“Don’t even get me started on the artificial moon that was set up and the huge space station that was shaped like a ring system around the entire planet.”

“Jesus Wolf Christ! I’d love to visit other worlds like that.”

“Why don’t you try focusing on seeing the rest of your world first?” Jacob said with a laugh. “Judging by just how amazed you were at India, you haven’t been out and about that much.”

His smile faded as he regarded his paws. “Yeah… You’re right there. After going to all these places, I just realised that I’ve lived my whole life on that Island. There’s so much more I want to see. To experience.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Money. Responsibilities. The fact that I’m still in school. Take your pick. I kind of wish I was like you and could just hop from one world to the other and make a life there.”

“My work comes with its own responsibilities. I mean, the deities of this world aren’t exactly pleased I was called over and they’re watching me like a hawk.”

The conversation with Arcturus came back to mind. Caleb was left wondering when Jacob would eventually be forced to speak with the Gods for that ominous meeting. Though he seemed free, he was also quite tightly shackled. “I guess that’s true.”

Jacob tilted his head slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about what you want to be when you grow up.”

He wasn’t and that proved that, despite all his experience, sometimes even the Writer of Reality could get it wrong. “Maybe a little… I mean, did you know that a collegiate scout actually came up to me on my last game and sort of offered me a scholarship to their college football team?”

“Really?” Jacob’s ears perked up. “That’s great! I can totally see you becoming a worldwide football star. Hell, would be a damn good cover. Billionaire football player by day, playboy party-goer by night and Weapons Master when the citizens need it.”

“Dad said something similar,” he muttered. “But watching you mix up those drinks and seeing everyone’s reactions… I dunno. Maybe I want to be a bartender.”

Jacob rolled his eyes and shut off his tablet. “Look, Caleb. You’re eighteen years old, going on nineteen. In this world, you’re a high school sophomore. If my life is a lesson, remember that you don’t have to decide your future here and now. There are always options, different paths you can take. If you don’t like being a football player, quit and do something else. If you don’t like being a bartender, close up shop and move on. Despite whatever your teachers, family and society may insist, you don’t need to decide which path you take at this very moment. You always have a choice and there is nothing wrong with going a little backwards to try something new.”

Caleb’s ears perked up slightly. “Really?”

“Absolutely! I mean, do you think I know everything about every reality that I pop into? No. I’ve got to learn the language, history and even basic physics before I do! Sometimes I’m in worlds where I’m just human. When I dropped in the first time, I was so unused to not having a muzzle in front of my face that I kept dropping my food on my lap because I kept misjudging where my mouth was!”

Imagining Jacob Reaper splattering food all over himself as a baby made Caleb grin. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Took me centuries to even try the worlds with more exotic anatomy.” Jacob beamed at him. “So don’t worry about responsibilities, time and money. The important thing is your choices and whether or not you can live with them. A man who lives on pennies a day but has no regrets has a greater chance of getting into Heaven than the man who never wants for anything but has a heavy heart.”

“That’s so corny…”

“I like corn!”

Caleb laughed and thanked his best friend for the talk. After a short ‘goodnight’, he slipped beneath the sheets and shut his eyes.

Morning came faster than he expected and he was quietly shaken awake by Jacob after what only seemed a moment since drifted off to sleep. After a quick shower, he was dressed in his costume and met everyone else in the lounge room. After a quick breakfast - naturally cooked by Jacob - they exchanged silent nods and then made to leave. Migraine’s base was about ten miles to the northeast. With Ballistic and Elliot’s power armour, they could make it there within an hour. The sun had yet to fully rise, giving them the advantage of surprise and catching any of Migraine’s troops by surprise. Caleb looked at all the faces before him, seeing determination, solidarity and hope. Today, they would definitely rescue the members of Arsenal.

Without a word, Assault marched out of the cabin…

… only for their features to fall fell as he caught a figure standing out in the open, waiting for them. It was impossible to miss the black-clad, wolf with blazing, ethereal wings springing from his back.

Arcturus, the Hound of Death.

“This can’t be good,” Jacob murmured softly, slipping past Caleb. He approached the Hound, leaving a respectable distance between them. His stance was confident and casual but there was an air of dread that filled the air. “Please don’t tell me one of us actually died during the night and you were just using this moment as a ‘parting gift’ so that we would get comfortable before you took one of us to the afterlife?”

Features still and unreadable as always, Arcturus said, “I would never be so cruel. No, I am here for another reason.”

“What? Finally come to help us fight? You just missed out on the customised cocktails I made everyone. I’m pretty sure I’ve got enough to make you something that reflects your personality, though. Might be a little early but it’s got to be five somewhere, right?”

“Fortune telling through alcohol, now? Would that make you an Alchomancer or a Boozard?”

“I’d think it’s almost akin to an Alchemist,” Jacob responded, all too aware that Arcturus’ attempt at humour was out of character. “If you’re not here to join us, Arcturus, how can I help you?”

The Hound of Death was silent for a moment… then he reached out towards Jacob. “You can help me by coming with me.”

Jacob lifted an eyebrow while folding his arms. “Come to kill me? That’s a little blunt of you.” Protests instantly began erupting from the rest of Assault. He lifted a paw, silencing them. “Though I don’t think that is.” His eyes narrowed. “The terms of the agreement were that I would meet your patrons at my convenience.”

Arcturus lowered his paw, a small smile touching his lips. “Observant as always. Is there nothing your eyes cannot see?”

“A lot, as it turns out, but I can be blind and still see this obvious power play. Needless to say, this time is very inconvenient for me.”

“Be that as it may, the Gods desire your presence.”

Jacob frowned. Arcturus didn’t mention which Gods. If it was only the furry pantheon, the Hound would have said so but it was clear that this involved more than just Shin-Lazar. Now he was worried. “And if I refuse?”

“They will be forced to extract you.”

“They risk exposure and a theological crisis just to extract me?” Jacob asked. “You realise people will be asking questions as to why all the deities of this universe came down to fetch one super, right?”

“Not when you are out here isolated from everyone else. Even with all your speed, you would never make it to Toronto before they caught up with you.”

A clever ploy but also one that smacked of desperation. The Gods wanted to grab him while he was far away from anyone else so that even if they were forced to play their hand, there would be few witnesses to the fact. This was more an opportunity to them than it was an actual premeditated attack.

“I see.” Jacob crossed his arms with a sigh. “I take it I’ll be out of the fight against Migraine?”

“Depends on how amenable you are.”

Bastards. They were pitting him against time. Knowing full well that he cared for the safety of Assault, they were going to force him on their terms. Either he agreed to their renewed conditions or he risked his team getting hurt or worse the longer he was absent. There was probably a whole host of delaying tactics that was awaiting him. They held all the cards.

“An opportunity presents itself so just like them to pounce,” he sighed, running a paw down his face. “Fine.”

“What!?” Leon exclaimed. “You’re leaving us!? Why!?”

Jacob glanced over his shoulder, offering a faint smile. “I have to. It’s either that or you’ll all have literal gods coming down upon you.”

“Gods!?” Elliot blurted from within his power armour. “You’re kidding me, right? What happened to all that bullshit last night about not letting the bad guys tell force you to make a choice!?”

He turned away from the orca, locking his gaze with Arcturus. “I told you before, I’ve been to this world many times before and I’m not exactly welcome. The interference of a No One is not taken lightly and more than a few deities are eager to restrict my power or even use it to further their own cause. It must be really something special if I’m to meet everyone.” A dark smile touched his lips. “Besides, I may not be able to choose which path I take right now but I can certainly choose the outcome.”

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here!?” David roared. His transformation clearly drew his temper a little thinner.

Jacob quickly and briefly explained to them all that his arrangement with the deities of this world had been modified, somewhat. The Gods were demanding and audience even if, at first, they seemed content to wait until he was ready. Obviously, they wanted to discuss the terms of his presence in the world… and his departure. Caleb tried to appear surprised or horrified but found that he didn’t have to try very hard. He was mortified that Arcturus would pull this sort of power play right when they were on the cusp or rescuing Lars!

“You can’t go!” Caleb pleaded. “We’re just about to hit Migraine!” He rushed forward, stopping just a few feet from Jacob and looking straight at Arcturus. “Please, Arcturus! Lars and the others need to be saved! Rhia could be there too!”

Arcturus lowered his gaze sorrowfully. “I know. There is nothing I can do about that. I am a tool for their wishes.”

“So you say,” Jacob scoffed. He turned towards Caleb, smiling encouragingly. “You guys can do this. You don’t need me. I have faith in all of you.” Then he threw a sour stare back at Arcturus. “That’s more than I can say for some other people on this world.”

“We need you, Jake,” Caleb pleaded, seizing Jacob’s paw. “You’re our powerhouse! You’ve got the most variety of weapons, the most experience and the most kick-ass one-liners! You’ve got to stay and help us fight! The gods can wait a few hours, right?”

Jacob shrugged sorrowfully. “Unfortunately, deities may tout that they have infinite patience but that’s seldom the case.” He held Caleb’s paw in his own. “You’ll be fine. If anything, you’ll have even more room to grow when I’m not there to help carry you. I’ve been a crutch for your growth for too long. Time for you all to spread your wings without me.” Then he beamed brightly. “Hey, I’m Obi-wan.”

“Huh?” Caleb asked, surprised by the sudden statement.

“I’m the wise mentor that gives you encouraging words, starts you off on the path to your destiny and then cops out in the middle of the first movie.” He glanced off to the side. “Not counting the prequels, of course.” Turning his gaze back to Caleb, he said, “But trust me, I’m going to come right back when I can. Maybe I’ll can even sneak in an epic hero’s entrance for the deities.” Jacob stuck out his tongue playfully. “How cool would it be for me to come down a flash of divine energies right in the middle of an enemy group?”

Caleb could not help but smile at the imagery. “Give them hell, Jake.”

“I’m pretty sure they already own hell. I’m going to give them nothing.”

Arcturus approached them. Through his sheer presence alone, Caleb was forced to take several steps back away from Jacob. The Hound of Death wrapped one wing around both him and the Writer of Reality, causing both of them to become encased in a shining, ethereal blue wing. The ghostly cocoon stood there for a few short moments. Its tip began to peel away, a flurry of feathers drifting listlessly into the air. There was some faint hope in his chest that when all those feathers were gone, his best friend would still be standing there. Sadly, that hope was dashed as only thin air was left.

“Damn…” Caleb murmured softly to himself.

There was no time to mourn, however. No telling how long the gods would keep Jacob occupied. As jaded as he was becoming against the deities, there was still a job to do and Lars to rescue.

Straightening his back, he marched to where Ballistic was parked and hopped on. “Come on, guys. Let’s go.”

Leon rode with him while everyone else was able to make their way through the forest. A silence befell all of Assault. They were one man down and in the fight against the Gimp, Jacob had been the one to carry them through most the fight. Doubt was already starting to creep in. Migraine sounded more like an intellectual kind of guy and would likely toy with their heads more. How would they be able to resist that without Jacob’s experience?

“Listen guys,” came Elliot’s voice through their earpieces. “Jacob said that Migraine was likely the kind of guy to make us turn against one another. A Manipulator, he called him. I think it’s important that no matter what Migraine says, we stay on track and resist the temptation to lash out at one another.”

Leave it to Jacob Reaper to still give them advice even when he was gone. Caleb had to wonder if his best friend saw this coming or if the Writer of Reality was always laying down contingencies.

The tightness of Leon’s paws around his waist told him his brother had something to say so he glanced briefly over his shoulder as he drove Ballistic higher into the air and above the treetops.

“Something on your mind?” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Maybe the fact that we’re not wearing any helmets and riding an illegal hover-tech vehicle!” Leon shouted back, an awkward grin on his muzzle. Strange to see Leon anything but confident and angry. His eldest brother had always been the leader of the pack when it came to the Hale sons. To see him somewhat subdued reinforced the impact of Jacob’s absence. “You’re feeling it too, right?” pressed his brother. “Our chances of winning just dropped. Like… a lot.”

If Leon was thinking it, so was everyone else. In fact, Caleb could not help but feel that his best friend was holding back something from them. Jacob hadn’t told anyone about his impromptu meeting with Arcturus back at the Himalayas and was acting like this was the first time the Hound of Death had intervened. Maybe it was because he didn’t think it was that important or that he could avoid the meeting until after everything had calmed down. Whatever the case, Caleb felt that the blonde-haired wolf was holding back a tide. What if the Gods themselves decided to throw themselves against Assault and Arsenal? How would they fight back against the divine?

In fact, how would that affect Mary who was a demigod herself?

“We can’t rely on one guy to carry us throughout the whole game,” he said firmly. “Jake is an important part of Assault but he’s not the only part. If he said we can do this without him, we can do this.”

“Sometimes I get the feeling that he has way too much faith in us.”

Caleb glanced over his shoulder and offered a lopsided smile. “Come on. We’ve proven that we’re decent in a fight.”

“Not just us,” Leon answered, giving him a blank stare. “Furs and humanity as a whole. I feel that his whole approach to us, that he believes we can all be redeemed in the end or that we’ll all get our ‘happily ever after’ is misplaced.” Leon’s eyes dropped. “Some people don’t deserve to be happy. And some people choose to wallow in the darkness.”

“I don’t believe that.” He turned his gaze forward. Only pristine mountains and a seemingly endless forest canopy spread in front of him. “I think… No. I believe everyone deserves a chance to see what it’s like to be happy. There’s no light or dark. Because for all you know, being in the dark might be what makes that person happy. Maybe the light is too bright. Maybe they’d just like to sit in the shade for a while. I don’t really care. We can all be happy.”

“And what if being happy means hurting the people you love?”

Tough question and one that made Caleb pause for a moment. “I guess I’d say that’s their prerogative. If those other people love being hurt, whatever makes them happy, right? But if they don’t, then you’d have to work out a compromise. Doubt you can reach that if you don’t talk to them or they aren’t given the chance to plead their case.” His paws tightened around Ballistic’s throttles. “We can only be who we are. Trying to shape ourselves to please someone else would be handing victory to the Gene Stealers.”

“Some would argue otherwise.” Leon paused a moment, his voice dropping. “I mean, don’t you think the Gene Stealers’ whole argument is about physical and mental freedom? If you hear all of the would-be supporters out there, they’re saying that the Gene Stealers are giving them the chance to be more than who or what they were born as.”

“They have supporters?” Caleb asked, surprised at the notion that a supervillain group actually had fans.

He felt Leon nod at him. “One of the problems the police force has to deal with. There are protesters and activities who are linking the rise of the Gene Stealers to Thelkosia.”

History had an awful tendency to rear its ugly head in times of crisis. Thelkosia served as a lesson even in modern history lessons on tolerance and fear mongering. There were probably a few ‘far-left’ liberals he knew who would jump on the Gene Stealer bandwagon while justifying it a chance to redeem themselves for the Gene Wars. Even to this day, people were claiming that the Gene Wars should never have happened. The governments of the world had no right to attack Thelkosia. The people there willingly subjected themselves to the ‘genetic freedom’ that was so readily available. Terminal illnesses or incurable diseases could have been eliminated if Thelkosia had been allowed to flourish. In some way, Caleb could sympathise but at the same time, he could not condone what the Gene Stealers were doing.

“It all boils down to what Jake has always told us,” he said firmly. “The power of choice. The Gene Stealers are forcing their ideals upon people. Yeah, some of those guys may have chosen to join them but what about guys like Madman or Gabe? Guys that had their insecurities preyed upon to further their agenda?” Caleb growled, narrowing his eyes as a clearing in the forest approached. “No. If the Gene Stealers were pushing for reform, they wouldn’t be skulking around in the dark, kidnapping people and torturing them. No matter what shit they’re pandering, if you’re hurting people without their consent, then you’re just as bad as the bastards who nuked Thelkosia in the first place.”

Leon’s grip around his waist tightened and his eldest brother paused for a long moment. “Yeah… I guess you’re right, Cale.”

He knew he was right. There was no justifying what Chimera was doing. No way clear-cut villains like Tibia and the Gimp could ever be considered heroes or revolutionaries.

A pit of hate and fury built up in his chest but he quickly pushed it aside as they drew closer to the clearing. There was a degree of peace and serenity about the clearing which was nestled amongst the towering trees of the Canadian wilderness. With the morning sun just rising, it was possible to catch bands of golden rays streaming through the canopy and gently kissing the bright red, shingled roof. The brown brick walls and matching porch were an odd mirror of Samson’s. It held the same sense of serenity that came with the scene especially with the big, tall, lean Caribou resting quietly on a rocking chair sipping some tea. The fur on Caleb’s arms stood on end as he gently brought Ballistic a good distance away from the cabin. There was a quaint little garden just in front of the steps with sunflowers of all things growing there.

He and Leon stepped off the hoverbike. Unsure which weapon to draw against Migraine, Caleb randomly picked Branding Iron and donned the gladius and shield while his brother primed his stasis rifle. It only took another 30 seconds before David and the rest of Assault sprang out from the woods and arrayed themselves around the two wolves.

“This has ‘trap’ written all over it,” murmured Elliot. “I mean, seriously. Quiet cabin. Villain dressed like a southern gentleman sitting in a rocking chair sipping tea? It’s supervillain cliché 101.”

There was no arguing with that assessment. Migraine did not seem at all disturbed as Assault approached. Even if they had the wrong address, any normal person would have been stunned when a group of heroes suddenly appeared in their secluded cabin. Bracing himself for the worst, Caleb puffed out his chest and began marching forward, head held high. Leon was right behind him, rifle raised and with Migraine in his sights the entire time. David was just a step behind while Samson and Elliot hung back some distance.

Migraine gentle sipped his tea as they came within earshot range. Unlike either Tibia or the Gimp, Migraine’s new form - while impressive - wasn’t nearly as muscle-oriented as could be expected from someone who was more intellectually geared. The caribou still stood at about nine feet tall - perhaps ten with the height from his horns - but his body was leaner, more compact and with muscles only ever showing through his clean, pressed, white suit when he moved. The man’s bright purple eyes were filled with clarity and a touch of… sadness?

Something was wrong…

“I was honestly expecting you sooner,” Migraine admitted, setting down his cup on the table before him. There were seven other cups arrayed on the carved wooden table alongside some shortbread biscuits. He picked up the porcelain teacup and began pouring the tea into the cups. “How do you like your tea? Sugar? Milk?”

Caleb stopped just at the base of the steps to the porch. “I don’t drink tea.” He should’ve come up with something wittier but after the shock of Jacob’s abrupt departure and now Migraine’s welcome, his mind was still reeling.

“You simply must try this. It’s a Chinese herbal tea meant to promote mental clarity and peace of mind. I got hooked on the stuff in my teenage years when the headaches started getting really bad.” He poured himself some more tea then lifted his gaze. His features turned into a frown. “Where is the esteemed Legion? Where is Jacob Reaper?”

Hopefully whatever plan that Migraine had was foiled by Jacob’s absence. “He had to duck out for another meeting,” Caleb said fiercely. “You’ll just have to deal with us instead.”

“Let’s cut the crap, Migraine,” David growled, storming forward. “Just spring whatever trap you have in store, we’ll break out and then we’ll go save our people. This ‘gentlemanly’ facade is overused. Hell, we’ve already got Samson playing the stuck-up, villainous socialite so you playing the part is just stale.”

Migraine sat back down, a frown on his lips. “Oh… Oh no. This is not good. This is not good at all.”

“You better believe it’s not good!” Lance barked. “Where the fuck is Arsenal!?”

The Caribou lifted a hand at them. “Peace, please. I fully intend to give you Arsenal. It was never my intention to fight you.”

Leon lowered his gun in astonishment. “What? You’re kidding, right?”

Migraine regarded him intently. “No. I don’t want to fight.”

“Then…” His eldest brother tilted his head in surprise. “What?”

Migraine gestured at the seats around him. “Please sit. We’re in a safe place here. I just want to talk.”

Something in Caleb was still screaming ‘trap’ but there was also a part of him that didn’t want to be too cynical. If he started treating everyone with suspicion regardless of their words, then he would be no better than Guinness. Seeing as none of his team were taking the step forward, he decided to take the plunge and marched up the steps onto the porch. He sat down closest to Migraine and picked up one of the teacups. He could feel all the eyes of Assault on him as he brought the white, porcelain cup to his lips and took a little sip.

He gagged and that immediately had everyone in Assault take a step forward in alarm.

“It’s… bitter,” he coughed. “I can taste the herbs and it’s got this flowery aftertaste but it’s still way too bitter for me.”

Migraine gave him a thin smile. “Try it with some milk. Though if you’re after some sugar, put that in first so it’ll melt.”

Caleb reached for the little container of sugar and dropped a cube into his cup. After a quick stir, he tasted it again. Still bitter. So he added some milk, turning the deep, blackish brew into something a more emerald green colour. That mellowed out the bitterness and brought out the sweetness and was more bearable.

“So you want to talk,” he said, setting down the cup. “Then talk. Where is Arsenal?”

“Beneath this house is my base of operations,” Migraine answered. “You could call it me _head_quarters.” The caribou chuckled at his own joke. “They are safe but I suspect they won’t be for much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

Migraine closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. “The Gene Stealers and the rest of the Legion of Pain never trusted me. While they gave me the Original Serum and turned me into this…” He held up his hands, showing the dark black nails that were hard as diamonds. “… they did not trust me with my own henchmen as they did the others. The conditions of my transformation was that I would turn others with my powers and that was all. They gave me this base, told me to wait until I was called upon and just let me wallow here in the peace and serenity of this grove.” He sighed softly and gazed off into the fields. “I often dreamed of a time when I would be able to enjoy such a serene scene without the constant pain of a migraine jabbing at my brain.” The Gene Stealer tapped the side of his head. “Unfortunately, where the pain left here… it now moved here.” He tapped his chest. “I realised I had made a deal with the devil.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” grumbled Leon, storming up the steps. Grabbed his own tea and downed half of it without even flinching. Caleb could tell his brother hated the tea but to his credit, Leon maintained a straight face.

“You wouldn’t believe the lengths you would go for just a minute of relief when you’re constantly assaulted by pain” He looked to Leon, sorrow in his eyes. “People will say that you get used to the pain but you don’t. It’s those moments of relief that make it all the worse. It’s torture. You experience that second sweet release and you can’t help but ask yourself, ‘Is that it? Is it finally over?’ Then it comes crashing back and it’s so much worse.”

Samson approached and took up a seat beside Caleb. “We’ve already been through the whole hopelessness scenario with the Gimp. He tried to crush our spirits by playing mind games with us and making us believe we had won before pulling the rug out from under us. We pulled through, however. Stronger than ever.”

Migraine pushed one of the cups towards him. “And why is that? How did you make it through that pain and torment when lesser men would have crumbled to their knees and begged?”

“Jake,” Caleb whispered softly, coming to a realisation. “I was the one to suggest we stop the Cornucopia to let everyone rest a bit but he was the one that planned that party. He was also the one that cooked and served us personalised drinks last night.” His eyes lifted towards Migraine. “I don’t think we really realised it but he was there keeping us from throwing in the towel.” His eyes widened. “And that’s why you’re looking for him. You’re hoping he’d save you too.”

The Gene Stealer smiled and leaned back in his chair, letting it start rocking slowly. “Very astute. Yes, you are very much right. I had made a deal with the devil and it cost me my soul. I was hoping I could find solace with the Reaper but it seems that is not meant to be.”

“What exactly is this deal?” Elliot pressed. “You’re not like other members of the Legion, are you? The Gene Stealers didn’t trust you because unlike the other members of the Legion, you’re not really a villain. You just want relief from your pain.”

Migraine nodded, a sad smile on his features. “As I said, you would not anything end that agony. I have been living in hell for most of my life and I was hoping for some degree of salvation. It came to me when the Gene Stealers offered me this mutation. The pain is gone. Instead, I can now focus my powers into psionic weaponry.” He held out his hand and a purple flame erupted between his fingers. The flame sharpened, transforming into a small knife which Migraine held in his hands. “My ‘henchmen’ have similar abilities, of course, but I was never a combatant by any definition of the word. I was just desperate.”

“You were used,” Elliot concluded. “The Gene Stealers just got your psionic powers, got you to infect their trained henchmen and then just left you here to…” Elliot suddenly went rigid with alarm. “Oh shit! You’re here to stall for time! Guys! Our friends are -”

The caribou held up his hand. “No. I assure you, that is not my intention. I have secured the members of Arsenal below as well as the members of the Elemental Alliance that came here. They are there for you to rescue but there is another matter which I need your help with.”

“What’s that?” Caleb asked.

Migraine took a deep breath and lifted his gaze. His purple eyes gazed deep into forests around them. There was a sudden movement somewhere in the depths of the foliage. A bright, purple bolt shot through the air, heading straight for Lance’s back. Before Caleb could shout a warning, the bolt struck some sort of invisible barrier with a dull, gong-like boom. Migraine rose to his feet, that frown on his features again. Caleb followed his gaze and watched as a group of twenty caribous, each thickly muscled and dressed in matching uniforms came storming out of the forest.

Each henchman was draped in black, figure-hugging tights in stark contrast to Migraine’s white pants, long coat and shirt. Strange purplish veins ran all the way up their bodies, throbbing and glowing like a pulse. The veins were only part of the uniform but it gave each member of the team the appearance of a walking nervous system. The symbol of ‘Beta’ was painted across their chests. Accompanying each member of the squad were ethereal purple weapons made out of purse psionic energies. One man had two wicked sickles in his hands. Another hand an array of swords hovering behind him like wings. A third was gripping what appeared to be a long, sizzling, fiery whip engulfed in the same purple flames that Migraine had demonstrated a moment later.

Then it dawned on him.

Migraine wasn’t the big bad at the end of the final dungeon. He was a hostage just like the rest of Arsenal! He had erected a barrier around his base and kept the henchmen away waiting for someone to save him! He had secured Arsenal but had no way out!

“My telekinetic barrier is strong but I won’t be able to hold off against all twenty of them not to mention the other three squads that are probably hiding somewhere,” snarled Migraine. “Kind of why I wish you had arrived sooner. I could’ve kept my barrier up for longer.”

Assault began gathering in front of the cabin, instinctively protecting Migraine.

“How long have you been under siege?” David demanded.

“Just since this morning,” chuckled the caribou. “I had guessed how long it’d take for you to get here and erected my barrier conveniently as the henchmen were returning to prepare for the ‘battle’.” He offered David a lopsided and weary grin. “Like I said, the Gene Stealers never trusted me and ensured that the henchmen stayed well away from me at light. They were likely scared I’d use my own powers on them and just let you walk in the front doors. Didn’t turn out quite how I expected especially with Reaper gone…”

Leon propped up his gun on the banister of the porch, peering through the scope like a true sniper. “Just tell me why?” he demanded. “Why would you turn on the Gene Stealers like this? Why the hell should we trust you?”

Migraine sighed softly before abruptly grimacing. That dull gong-like sound resounded past the barrier. The Psychos - as Caleb came to think of them - had begun their assault. As always, the henchmen were well trained like a military unit working in perfect synchronisation. Five of the burly caribous stepped up in front of the rest of the ground and held up their hands. A glimmering, transparent field of purple appeared in front of them - likely a telekinetic barrier similar to Migraine’s. Another five stood right between them and were firing shots at Migraine’s barrier. The remaining ten hung back, preparing their melee psychic weapons. No doubt the moment the barrier went down, they would be the first to charge forward and attack.

“There’s something terrible about constantly looking to the future for relief,” Migraine sighed. “When you focus your entire life in the pursuit of a singular goal, most people fail to ask themselves what will happen after.” Migraine shook his head, gripping one of his horns reflexively. “For the longest time, my only goal in life was to get rid of my headaches. Whether that was researching ways to subdue the pain, finding people I could direct the pain towards or even turning myself into a genetic monstrosity, I didn’t care. I pursued my goal with a fanatic fervour. And now that I finally have it… I am cursed with the knowledge of what I did to get here. Now I find myself asking if it was all worth it.” The caribou puffed out his chest but almost immediately stumbled as the barrage from the Psychos intensified. “Even if I die here, I will do what I can to ensure you have Arsenal back and stop the members of the Gene Stealers.”

Sweat was dripping down Migraine’s face as he fought against the psychic barrage.

“So listen to me now,” growled the caribou. “You know well that Chimera’s ultimate goal is the create his coveted Generation Five. A generation of Gene Stealers that is not only capable of modifying their physical form but also their super powers. A person just like Chimera.”

Caleb still remembered the first time he had encountered Chimera in person. The shadow creature could sprout limbs and wings with frightening ease. There also seemed to definition to his powers. For more than one Chimera to be running around was just frightening.

“Do we really have time for this!?” Elliot barked. “We need to get out of here!”

“No!” Migraine shouted. “You all need to hear this! You need to know what the Gene Stealers want. Because the moment you know what your opponent wants, what it is that they’ll devote all their energy towards, that they’ll pursue with that fanatic fervour, that moment is when you can start to counter them!” The caribou grit his teeth together and slowly settled himself back into his chair. Caleb could not help but help him down. Lance was already offering the horned male some tea which Migraine took with a smile. After a short sip, Migraine seemed to relax a little and the desperation in his voice faded.

“The key rests with Wendigo.”

“Him?” Caleb asked. He had never encountered Wendigo in person, just his Thralls. Those terrifying cannibals had painted Wendigo as this sadistic creature that would willingly devour others for his own sick pleasure. “Why him?”

“Because of Wendigo’s power. By devouring someone, he can obtain certain qualities of theirs even to the point of copying their superpowers. This is why Dragon Knight keeps his ‘Menagerie’ of failed experiments. This is why the Gene Stealers are obsessed with keeping the people that they have transformed. All so that Wendigo could feast off them and not only copy their evolved superpowers but also their ability to transform into other furs.”

Terror forced Caleb’s eyes wide open. Both Tibia and even the Gimp had escaped because of Dragon Knight. There were other Gene Stealers out there that had managed to escape and the more he thought about it, the more he realised how it all made sense. The Gene Stealers were not just perfecting their Original Serums and their Generations, they were stockpiling superpowers and alternate forms to feed to Wendigo! That was why they were constantly attacking people. Their serums were not just being tested. They were infecting people, watching them develop powers unique to them and then feeding them to Wendigo!

“That’s monstrous!” Samson exclaimed. “I’ve been a villain a long time but even by my standards, that’s horrific!”

“It gets worse,” Migraine sighed. “Wendigo’s power is ultimately temporary. After a while, his borrowed form and powers will eventually fade and the only way to sustain it is by eating more. The amplified regeneration of the Gen 4s nullify this as Wendigo can just keep constantly feasting while his victims regenerates and perhaps even grows stronger as they get ‘tempered’ through the pain. Perhaps their victims are driven mad by the constant cannibalism or their minds sharpen and their powers evolve. Whatever the case, Wendigo’s is evolving himself. As with any super or Outsider, the more their power is used, the more it evolves. Eventually…”

“Wendigo’s transformations will become permanent,” Leon breathed. “He’s just going to keep gorging himself until he becomes the Gen 5!”

“And then when he becomes a Gen 5, he can infect others…” David hissed. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he threw himself into the very same people that he nibbled on in some sick cycle so that he turns them into Gen 5s.”

Migraine gasped, clutching the side of his head. The barrier was starting to weaken. “I don’t know about that. But there’s another component to it. Something about the Reacher Corporation but I’m not sure what it is. Still, the purpose of infecting Arsenal and gathering samples of their DNA was to test how people from different walks of life respond to multiple different Gen 4 mutations. The fact that your friends adapted to their powers and even mutated different abilities as well speaks volumes of their potential and indeed what they could offer Wendigo and Chimera.”

Caleb gazed upon Migraine, seeing the caribou in a new light. “You kept them safe. You kept them from Wendigo.”

The Gene Stealer gave him a weak smile. “It’s the least I could do. I’ve brought so much pain to this world already. The least I could do is help save it.” Migraine, a cup of tea in his hands, rose to his feet again and stood defiantly against the onslaught of Psychos. “Go. Head inside and go to the library. Straight down the hall and to the left. I’ve left the door open. Go down there and rescue Arsenal. I’ve marked the way to the holding cells. Past the cells is an escape tunnel that’ll get out clear of the facility.” He downed the rest of his tea and set the cup gently on the table. “I’ll hold them for as long as I can.”

Caleb was in awe. Who would’ve thought that the visage of a hero could come from an adversary?

“You heard the man!” David barked. “Everyone inside! Move!”

Elliot was the first through the door, smashing through the door frame like a train charging through a tunnel. Leon was next followed closely by Samson. David gripped Caleb’s paw and pulled him towards the door but the young Outsider stood firmly.

“No!”

His voice stunned them all and even Migraine.

“I am not doing this cliche!” Caleb barked. “You want to do the heroic sacrifice? You think that one act of selflessness will absolve you of all your sins? Bullshit!” He grabbed Migraine’s shoulder, pulling him around to face him. “You’re coming with us!”

The lean, gentlemanly caribou offered him a thin smile. “I wish I could but these men…” He gestured towards the Psychos. “… have trained all their life to adopt the powers I gave them. While I may have been born with my powers, I was left in agony for most of my life and had very little time to hone my abilities. I must stay within close proximity of the barrier or it will fail.”

“So?” Caleb spat.

“So,” said the man with infinite patience, “I must stay up here to buy you all time.”

“That’s not what I was so’ing about.” Caleb marched past the Gene Stealer and drew the blade of Branding Iron. “Dad! Lance! I’ll need your help!” The two named Hales came up beside him, arms crossed in mirroring postures. “Yours isn’t the only barrier that we can bring up to buy us time Mattias.” He pointed at the Psychos who momentarily stopped their assault at the gesture. “Lance! Move the earth!”

With a loud howl, Lance jumped off the porch, landing squarely on his feet and in a crouch. Then, he vaulted high into the air, launching at least fifty feet. The Psychos immediately began hurling purple bolts of psionic energy at him. Migraine immediately stepped forward and pressed his fingers against his temples, focusing hard. The sizzling blades, crackling bolts and scintillating beams of purple energy struck his invisible barrier, giving Lance enough time to come crashing down, all four fists primed. The titanic Feral Fang slammed into the ground with enough force that the grass-green earth visible vibrated like it was made out of water. The earth split open, cracks springing forth and the Psychos yelping in surprise as they were knocked off their feet. None of the chasms were big or deep enough to be fatal but that was not what Caleb was going for.

“Dad!”

David cracked his knuckled ominously. “You got it, son.” Feral Steel swept both his paws upwards like he was upending a table. Huge steel columns erupted from the ground, shooting outward at an angle towards the stunned Psychos. Each of the columns morphed and twisted like liquid, transforming right before his eyes into huge, feral wolves. They clamoured over one another, the loud grinding of metal on metal like their howls. The wolves formed an enormous sculpture at least thirty feet tall, made entirely of pouncing wolves that formed a solid barrier in front of the cabin.

“Wow…” Caleb breathed, very impressed. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

“I got inspiration from when Reaper did that lion thing with Mugen Kosetsu,” David said, rolling his shoulders. “I figure all my constructs have always been kind of boring and geometric. Time I made them a little more dynamic and fluid.”

“Looking forward to whatever else you come up with,” Caleb said with a grin. He swung Branding Iron through the air. Seven, tall diamond minotaur golems sprang up from the ground and arrayed themselves in front of the cabin.

Turning, he grabbed Migraine’s wrist and pulled him into the cabin itself. The caribou was stunned and looked mournfully with David and Lance right behind them.

“Don’t tell me your sad we’re actually saving your sorry ass,” Lance chuckled.

“Actually…” Mattias said, a strange smile touching his features. “I was actually a little sad about my sunflowers getting destroy.” Then the caribou stopped… and threw his head back with a laugh. He slapped his forehead, seemingly breaking down into hysterics. “Oh my god… I can’t believe I fell into the trap again.”

“Huh?”

“I was so obsessed with making my final stand, my sacrifice,” laughed the Gene Stealer. “I never even considered how much more valuable I’d be if I found a way to go with you.” He turned towards Caleb, his purple eyes shining with pride and gratitude. “Thank you, Caleb Hale. You saved me from myself.”

“I’ll open a tab.” Caleb winked and gestured that they hurry towards the library. “Come on! Let’s go save the others!”

With Migraine leading them - and Elliot ploughing through all the furniture - Assault headed into the cabin’s library. As cliched as it was, there was a hidden passage leading downward behind a bookcase that was left open for them. The path was surprisingly well-lit and smacked of a more spartan architecture than Tibia’s bone-themed lair or even the Gimp’s customised death traps. The walls were plain and made of metal. There were no interlocking hallways, no mazes, no traps and nothing even remotely interesting. Just pipes, wired and the occasional monitor. There were apparently cameras on the surface that monitored their surroundings. From them, he could see that the Psychos were unleashing barrage after barrage of psionic energies at his dad’s metal wall. The irregular shapes of the wolves made it hard to cut through so they would be occupied for a little longer.

The dungeon seemed less of a lair and more of just a secret basement as it did not take them long to reach where the path widened into broad cell blocks. Caleb’s heart leapt to his throat as he charged past everyone else and saw…

… the cells empty.

His heart came crashing back down but was quickly cushioned by fear. Had he misplaced his trust in Mattias.

No.

One look at the supervillain and the confused expression the caribou wore told him that this was a surprise he had no hand in.

“Aww, what’s the matter?” came a sultry, feminine voice. “Did you honestly believe I would sit by and let you betray us, Mattias? Come now, you give me far too little credit.”

A chill ran down Caleb’s spine. That was a voice he had heard many times before in the hollow lips of arachnid Thralls.

Spider Queen.

“How!?” Mattias bellowed, shaking a fist through the air. “I locked every door, activated every anti-super field! Even Dragon Knight couldn’t have gotten in here!”

Spider Queen clucked her tongue from wherever she was hidden. Her voice carried clearly over hidden speakers. “You poor, deluded fool. We built this place. Just because you had lived in it for just under a month, it does not mean you know all of its secrets. It was a simple matter to get my team to smuggle out our latest test subjects and bring them to Toronto.”

“Toronto!?” David exclaimed. “Why the hell would you bring them there?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Since Mattias was such a spoiled sport and decided not to do this, I’ll have to step in and play his role.” Spider Queen chuckled_. “We’re going to play a game, kids. Let’s call it… ‘Save the Day’.”_

Hidden monitors suddenly sprang up all around them. Each of them showed different locales in the mighty city of Toronto and at the centre of every location was a large black box with several Psychos positioned around them. Sometimes, there was even more than one box.

“I’ve positioned each of your loved ones in six locations. Let’s see if you can save them before they destroy the city… and themselves.”

Terror seized Caleb’s chest as he watched the Psychos unlock the boxes. His eyes were firmly planted in the image of the huge, black-furred caribou with horns wreathed in ethereal purple flames and a cock that was still distinctly canine despite the rest of his form. Even though there was no sound, he could hear the panic of the citizenry Toronto was besieged by maddened members of Arsenal. Even if they were to limit the devastation, Arsenal’s reputation would be ruined. There was no telling the kinds of psychological torture the Gimp put them through.

“Fuck!” Leon shouted, punching one of the metal bars and bending it with the force of the impact. “She plans on splitting us up! With those henchmen there as well, we’ll be outnumbered! Even if we go up against our best match-ups, there is no way we can save the city and win against them all! Especially since Jake isn’t here!”

Caleb stared at the monitors, his paws tightening into fists. “Then we shake things up.”

“What?”

He turned to his team. “Spider Queen is a Manipulator just like Elliot said. She wants us to fight the members of Arsenal that we’re most likely to go after. She wants to hurt us as well as them. Probably wants me to go after Lars, dad to go after Mary, Samson to go for Ben, Lance to go for Madman, Leon to fight Bren and Elliot against Rhia.”

“It’s what would make the most sense,” Elliot chimed in. “You know Lars best as does David and Samson against their opponents. Lance and Madman are the muscle that would be counter one another while both Leon and Bren are expert in stealth and espionage. I’ve hung around Rhiannon the most and my tech can counter her illusions.”

“That’s why she’s countering with the Psychos,” Caleb said. “With them there, they’d tip the balance against us. So we need to do something unexpected. We shake things up.” He hiked a thumb against his chest. “I’ll go after Ben. Samson, you hit Bren. Dad, I’ll leave Lars to you. Leon, take care of Rhia. Lance, take Migraine with you and fight Mary. Elliot, I’m leaving Madman to you.”

“What? You want me to go up against that testosterone-poisoned brute!? Why!?”

“Because you’re encased in power armour. You have brains and brawn against him.”

“Oh… I suppose that makes sense.”

Caleb glanced around the chamber and nodded fiercely. “This is going to be tough but I’m willing to bet at least a few of us are going to beat our opponents quickly. So those of you that beat them, hurry over to the rest and offer support.” He pressed a finger against his ear. “Nate, you there?”

Nathan raged answered as calmly as he ever did. “I take it the chaos in Toronto is somehow related to you?”

“Pretty much. Give us the locations of where hell is breaking lose. Can you get us transport?”

“I’m getting Ballistic to you now. It comes with remote functionality now.”

“Sweet,” Caleb answered with a grin. “We’ll need transport for the rest. Don’t suppose you guys can offer any support, can you?”

“Not unless you want to risk an international incident. You guys are on your own.”

He nodded firmly. “Thought as much. Thanks Nate.”

Pulling his paw from his ear, he thrust it in front of him, palm down. “Assault on three.”

Determination greeted him. Lance was the first to shove a paw on top of his own quickly followed by Leon and David. Samson and Elliot followed suit. Then they looked all towards Mattias.

“What?” asked the caribou. “Me too?”

“You want to make amends for all you’ve done?” Caleb asked. “Then you put your hand in here and join us.”

The Gene Stealer smiled faintly. “What would my life have been like had I met you sooner, Caleb Hale?” He shoved his paw on top of the stack.

“One,” Caleb began. “Two… three!”

In unison, they threw their hands into the air and shouted, “Assault!”

******

It was a richly, decorated mansion rife with statues of various deities, murals of legends across time and murals of great triumphs. Of course it had to be opulent. How else would the deities of this Earth try and flex their muscles in the face of the Writer of Reality? Some realities at least had gods that were humble or appreciative of his help but there were always realities that had deities who were so obsessed with their own divinity that they had to find some way to prove themselves superior no matter how many times Jacob tried to tell them that he wasn’t better than them. But this Earth was written outside of his remit; created in the endless branches that had spawned off some other multiverse that he was barely involved in. He had been involved with the original creator, of course, the seed that had started it all but that seed had since grown into a tremendous forest, spreading across time and space with every tree, every branch, every leaf served as a different reality with its own laws, own deities and own creation myths. Few every knew that there was even an original creator but this was one of those creators that let the seed flourish and just sat back and watched their creations do as they pleased while pursuing their own interests, planting more gardens and starting their own projects until they grew bored and moved on.

Jacob couldn’t fault them. Some people were just like that. Inspiration took them in different ways but they were never the type to just ignore their creations. They would occasionally come back to their creations here and there, never forgetting them but their focus would always be elsewhere. He didn’t want to bring out the big guns and bring them into this mess. That would encroach on their happiness. He had no right to tell them to start writing this story because he wanted something to happen. If he wanted to change the destiny of this reality, he would have to do it himself.

“Your writing. Your work. Your way,” he sighed softly.

His ears perked at the approach of soft, bare feet along the white, tiles that formed a path through the vast, seemingly infinite garden. He sat under a bright white gazebo lush with climbing roses and gently chirping birds. Tall walls wrapped in vines twisted and turned in a dizzying maze that no average mortal would ever be able to navigate. Statues of deities from all time and religions dotted the labyrinth while the mansion itself sat as an ever-present monolith on the horizon. A slight insult that they would not invite him inside to discuss these ‘terms’ but he decided to let it slide. Right now, he was impatient to return to Earth and help out Assault.

“I wondered who they’d send to ‘negotiate’ with me,” he admitted, rising from his white, crystal seat. “I had first thought that I’d have the honour of meeting everyone in some enormous assembly with all the gods shouting down at me with their demands but then I realised that you were probably smart enough not to let that happen because I could easily turn you against one another. Then I was led here and I knew I’d be facing a representative.”

“You are as astute as ever, dear Writer,” answered the deity. “Would you like some refreshments? Have you had a taste of this world’s ambrosia?”

“This world’s. The next one over. The one from the dark corners of the multiverse. Trust me, it’s all the same.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“No, really,” he said with frown. “They all have that terrible texture of arrogance with the foul aftertaste of belief that their ambrosia is the best in the all existence.”

“Your contempt for divinity is well noted.”

“Not all divinity. Just the kind that believes themselves superior to the people of the world, think themselves infallible and freely manipulate others and one another for their own goals with total disregard for others.” He leaned casually against the table, cocking his head to the side. “There’s actually this really pleasant pantheon here, the Old Gods. Cthulu is fun at parties and he knows he’s mortal just like everyone else and enjoys his job at Valve taunting people with Half-Life 3.” He glanced off to the side. “Why do I feel like that joke’s already been made?”

“Let’s not waste time on pleasantries, Writer.”

“Why not? I thought this entire thing was an exercise in wasting time?” he snapped sharply. “Isn’t that your whole ploy? Make me think that I’m against the clock? That I have to rush the proceedings, cow to your demands so that I can go back to Earth and save Assault?”

The divine representative did not say anything.

“Allow me to educate you on something you ‘gods’ seem to have forgotten.” He slammed his paw on the table. “Faith.”

“You must be joking.”

“No. I’m serious. This entire episode is about faith. Faith in the people we love, faith in the people we trust, faith in humanity to do the right thing. We need to have faith in the very same people we protect because we can’t be there for them forever. Something I’m sure you’re keen to pursue. But I have faith in my team. I know they’ll pull through without my assistance because that’s just how much faith I have in them.” He crossed his arms firmly, staring down at the goddess with his fiery, sapphire-blue eyes. “So go ahead, waste all the time you want because you’re not going to rush me into making a decision. I believe in Assault. They’re going to win against Migraine with or without me.”

“And if I told you that Migraine has defected to their side? What if I told you that they are now facing Arsenal with all of Toronto at risk? Do you still have faith in them then?”

Without pausing, Jacob said, “Yes I do.”

That shook the representative of the gods.

“You must understand, Reaper, we are gods. We deal in absolutes.”

“Just like Sith.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Star Wars reference. You should really watch it.

“I tried but I couldn’t get past Episode I to III.”

Jacob grimaced. “And all the Star Wars fans screamed in agony.” He waved a paw through the air. “Look, nothing is absolute. Times change and reality by, its very nature, is subjective. If you stick to dealing with absolutes you’ll… well…” He waved his other paw in a broad gesture around him. “… you’ll find yourself here; on shaky ground, running around blind and not knowing what to do.”

He pushed off the table and sat back down. With a soft smile, he patted the table and gestured at the seat opposite to him.

“So why don’t we begin negotiations? Maybe I can give you some assurances that you solely need.”

“Does that not defeat the purpose of your earlier comments?”

“You can’t just quit cold turkey, Athena. Your daughter knows this more than anyone.