“Uh... what the fuck are you doing?”

  I barely looked up from my work as Greg spoke to me. On the table before me were spread the dissected components of a microwave, bought on the cheap. On the other side sat the red plastic shell of a toy raygun.

  Originally it had been designed to shoot bubbles. When I was done with it, it’d shoot out focused bursts of microwaves. It wouldn’t punch clean through Impact’s shell, by my reckoning, but it wasn’t something she could just push aside.

  “Making a sandwich,” I said bluntly.

  “One tough sandwich to chew through...” he said.

  “I’m not sure if you’re aware but we do have a job coming up,” I said, lifting the circular cavity magnetron from the sea of parts. “I need to put in extra work to get my equipment upgraded and in working order. It’s the unfortunate burden of being an Artisan.”

  “Too bad your gear isn’t crazy impressive. Imagine if you could build robot suits like Titanium, or make monsters like Doctor Biohazard. Instead you just make... toys,” he said, motioning to the raygun.

  “Toys that can kick your ass.”

  Greg snorted. “Keep telling yourself that,” he said.

  “No, really,” said, popping open the shell of the raygun. I took out the bottle of bubble soap and the related mechanisms. My hands were moving with mechanical quickness and precision, and in my mind’s eye I could picture schematics of the machine taking shape piece by piece. Dad likened creation to a jigsaw puzzle, one that only worked when you had all the requisite parts in order.

  Exactly why it had to be toy-related weaponry, I couldn’t tell you. You’d have to ask the Visitor to explain the weirdness of Apex powers.

  “Look I’ve seen you in action. You’re okay, but-”

  One of my soldier’s was on his shoulder. He froze, peering at it from the corner of his eye. My soldier made no move, did not aim his weapon, but the message was clear. He’d scrambled up Greg’s shoulder in seconds, while he was focused on me, and had been so quick and quiet that Greg wouldn’t know what was coming until it was too late.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  If I was so inclined to hurt him.

  “Je-sus,” he huffed, all the wind taken out of his sails.

  “See, underestimating people is a bad thing to do Greg. It can land you in a lot of trouble. Being underestimated is one of the best tools a person can have.” I held my hand out and the soldier hopped deftly to my palm.

  “Only cuz you snuck up on me,” he muttered, glancing away.

  I gave him a flat look, my invention briefly forgotten. “Are you really complaining that a super villain doesn’t fight fair? You know, my dad had a saying. He used to say to me, ‘Kiddo if you’re ever in a fight, don’t expect the other guy to be fair. You’re in it to win, so anything goes.’”

  The door popped open and Cassie came in, trailed by Sam. Rover looked up a bit from the corner and then went back to chewing on the rib bone in his teeth.

  “Gather round children!” Cass said, grinning in her usual way. “We have news.”

  “Aaaah,” I moved to stand, grimacing and stretching my back until it popped. I always ended up with a damn prawn posture whenever I got engrossed in my inventing. “Well shoot, don’t keep us in suspense.”Beatrix rose from her chair in the corner, leaving reruns of The New Protector Adventures playing on the TV. She stretched her leg a few meters forward and then used that leg to drag her whole body forward in a cartoonish fashion. “I’m all ears,” she said, her ears briefly ballooning outward.

  “Don’t be gross,” I said, staring over at her.

  “You get used to it,” said Sam.

  “Christ. I hope not.”

  Cassie cleared her throat, instilling a hush in us. “Sam and me have been doing a little research in the background. You know, trying to get a lead on were the fight clubs are being held. Hasn’t been easy, people are tight lipped about this stuff and we don’t want people knowing we’re asking around.”

  “Villains don’t like it when folk stick a nose in their operations,” Sam said, frowning.

  “Well, I gathered that much,” I replied. “But what did you find?”

  Cassie’s grin broadened a bit, evidently pleased with herself. “Heard from a little birdy that Wares is selling drugs to the crowd at these bouts.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Wares?”

  “Oh, that guy.” Beatrix gave me a sideways look. “He’s a... I guess a supervillain but super low grade. His only power is this little pocket dimension thingy, and he uses that to store the contraband he sells people. Kind of a joke, I guess, he can be useful for information since he tends to wind up everywhere.”

  I suppose a guy like that could blend into the background, and he could probably slip through the cracks of just about anywhere. I could probably make use of him for selling my weapons... if he was trustworthy. “You’ve worked with this guy in the past?”

  Sam raised a hand, making a dismissive waving gesture. “Not... exactly,” he said.

  “We had to... get information from him in the past,” Greg said, an uneasy look on his face.

  “Ah.” I could imagine how that went.

  Cass shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. Didn’t break his bones or anything. And we won’t have to hurt him if he just tells us what we want to know.”

  “Well, whatever. I’m not above whooping his ass if we need to. It’s not like I have any real... moral scruples with that stuff. Where do we find this guy?” The sooner we found the fighting arena, the sooner I could get what I actually wanted.

  “He tends to move around a bit. It’s a... security thing, you could say. But, apparently, Wares keeps an office on Amusement Quay these days,” said Cassie.

  I sucked in some air through my teeth. Of all places... “Amusement Quay. Great.”