Chapter 165

  Alexander stepped out of the taxi and surveyed the strip of abandoned dock warehouses. This was the second area he’d checked. The first hadn’t offered anything large enough. He’d considered aircraft hangars earlier, but most were nowhere near the size he needed.

  He leaned down, looking back through the open door. “Keep the meter running. I won’t be long.”

  The driver glanced at the crumbling buildings, then back at Alexander. “Uh, sure thing.”

  Alexander transferred fifty credits with a thought. “For your patience.”

  The driver’s expression shifted immediately. “Yessir. Take as long as you need.”

  Alexander made his way between the rows of warehouses. The first lot of buildings was too small. The second row showed more promise. He reached out with his senses, scanning each building as he passed.

  All of them were full. Equipment. Machinery. Crates stacked floor to ceiling. Rows of shelving.

  He needed empty.

  Several more rows down, he found what he was looking for. Almost as big as three of the previous warehouses and mostly empty.

  Alexander approached the entrance. A heavy padlock secured a thick locking bolt. He reached out with Metallokinesis, and tore the entire mechanism away.

  He flicked a finger, and the massive rolling door groaned, then began rising.

  Inside, the space stretched nearly three hundred feet deep and half that wide.

  An eighteen-wheeler occupied the center, its trailer doors hanging open. A forklift sat nearby.

  Alexander raised both hands. The vehicles lifted smoothly into the air. He guided them to opposite sides of the warehouse, setting them down gently against the walls.

  He walked to the center of the cleared space and turned, taking it all in.

  Perfect.

  Then he frowned.

  It was quite a bit bigger than he’d initially planned. And he hadn’t exactly discussed dimensions with the Doorman.

  Alexander decided it was time to give the man a call.

  ***

  Annie sat on her favorite driftwood log, staring at the stick figure she’d drawn in the sand. Two massive angel wings jutted from its back.

  She could totally do this. It was going to work.

  Annie leaned forward, squeezed her eyes shut, and clenched both fists. She grunted, willing the wings into existence.

  She cracked one eye open, then twisted to look over her shoulder.

  Nothing.

  Annie flopped backward over the log with a groan, landing flat in the sand. She threw her hands up. “Just grow wings, shorty,” she said, pitching her voice lower in a terrible impression of Alexander. “Make some huge wings and just fly. It’s so easy.”

  She flopped her arms out to either side and dragged them through the sand in wide arcs, making sand angels. “Making wings isn’t easy, you tall idiot!”

  A shadow fell across her face.

  Annie squinted up.

  Gilly stood over her, dripping wet, wearing a pair of fluorescent pink shorts that practically glowed in the sunlight.

  “Why Gilly idiot?”

  “What?” Annie blinked. “No, not you. Alexander.” She hauled herself back up onto the log with a huff. “He told me I could just make wings and fly, but it’s not working. I don’t have anything on my back to transform into wings.”

  Gilly stood there, six eyes blinking one after the other, staring at her.

  Then he dropped into a weird squat, stuck his arms straight out to either side, and started flapping.

  Annie tilted her head. “What are you—”

  She looked down at the sand angel impression. Two long, sweeping arcs where her arms had moved.

  Like wings.

  Her eyes snapped wide. “Oh. My. God.” Annie jumped to her feet. “Alexander is so stupid. I don’t need wings on my back. I can just turn my arms into wings!”

  Gilly kept flapping.

  Annie grinned, dropped into a matching squat, and spread her arms wide. She started flapping in tandem with him.

  MetaMetal rippled across her skin, silver spreading down from her shoulders. Her arms flattened, broadened, stretched. Feather-like plates formed along the edges, overlapping and interlocking.

  Wide metal wings extended from where her arms had been.

  Annie’s grin split even wider.

  She flapped harder.

  ***

  Alexander stepped out of the merchandise shop and into the main showroom.

  The space opened up before him. Polished concrete flooring, track lighting, trophy cabinets along the walls. Hoverbikes on platforms and pedestals throughout. Crowds of fans moved between them, taking photos, reading specs projected in holographic overlays. Banners hung from the ceiling in red, white, and black.

  Corsa d’Elite Fulminea. Italian racing heritage and cutting-edge engineering, all under one brand.

  Alexander adjusted the foam finger on his left hand and held the little flag higher in his right. The cap sat snug on his head.

  He scanned the room, spotted a security camera mounted near the entrance, and waved the foam finger and his flag at it with a grin.

  Then he moved into the flow of people.

  The next-generation models occupied the far end of the showroom, cordoned off with velvet ropes. Alexander made his way over. A sleek black bike sat on a raised platform, all sharp angles and aerodynamic curves. He paused to admire it, leaning in to read the projected specifications.

  Further along, a purple commercial model caught his eye. It had a wider frame, built for stability rather than pure speed. He moved past it, nodding to himself.

  A silver prototype gleamed under focused lights. An experimental design, not yet available for purchase. Alexander stopped, tilted his head, then continued on.

  He worked his way through the showroom at a casual pace, pausing at bikes here and there. Patting a chassis here. Leaning close to examine the engine housing there. Just another fan soaking in the atmosphere.

  Finally, he reached the centerpiece.

  The championship bike rotated slowly on an elevated platform, bathed in spotlights. Battle-scarred fairings told the story of a hard-fought season. The team’s signatures scrawled across the chassis.

  They were this year’s champions.

  And it was red. Just like Talia wanted.

  ***

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The spellbook floated in the air beside Augustus’s desk, perfectly still, angled to face him. He held a conjured quill in one hand, half-moon glasses perched on his nose.

  “Each rune holds universal meaning,” he muttered, scratching careful lines across the page. “Yet most cannot activate alone.”

  He paused, examining his work.

  “Worse, every rune must be perfectly inscribed. Stroke length proportional to every other stroke, and with precise angles.” Another careful line. “And there is no way of knowing if a rune is correctly formed unless something happens.”

  He added the final flourish.

  “Or doesn’t happen.”

  Augustus leaned back and placed the quill in the depression between the open pages. He reached out his hand. His wand materialized in his grip.

  A flick toward the spellbook.

  Nothing.

  He sighed, released the wand, and it vanished. Augustus removed his glasses with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. Then he set the glasses down and rotated in his chair toward the computer.

  The keyboard and mouse sat ready. He preferred them to holographic controls. The tactile feedback was satisfying, even if technically inferior.

  The screen displayed his work. Grimnir Training Program: Physical Standards.

  He’d nearly finished the baseline requirements. The basic program was sound. He’d considered developing an advanced track immediately, something for those who wanted to push beyond the standard or those who had physical-focused superpowers, but that could wait.

  First, the capstone.

  Augustus refocused on the document and began typing. The final stage of the program would involve live challenges in the Beastworld. Real combat scenarios. Dangerous, but necessary for those who intended to fight for Grimnir. As Aesir.

  Not everyone needed to be a warrior. But those who chose that path needed to be prepared.

  His fingers moved across the keyboard.

  The steady clicking of keys continued as time passed.

  Augustus leaned back again, reading over what he’d written. The gateway challenges could serve a dual purpose. Training, but also resource acquisition. Practical experience combined with tangible rewards.

  Each world had provided something so far, some of it valuable. Others… not. He thought about what they’d already claimed. Enchanted metal from the knight. A ritual dagger or two from the cultists. Animal materials from the Beastworld.

  Augustus frowned, thinking.

  There was also the cultivator’s storage ring Alexander had retrieved. He knew Alexander hadn’t yet figured out how to access it, because they’d discussed the possibility of Augustus’s magic aiding the process.

  He glanced at his spellbook floating beside the desk, then turned back to the computer screen. And reread what he’d just written.

  “I’m an idiot,” he muttered.

  Augustus minimized the training document and opened PhantomBridge. The secure browser loaded instantly, its interface minimal. He clicked into the address bar and typed:

  rifthub.void

  The screen shifted. A simple site appeared, with white text on a charcoal background. Categories lined the top, offering selections of services and goods.

  Including multiversal acquisitions.

  Augustus moved the cursor to the search bar. His fingers danced across the keyboard.

  Spellbook.

  He hit enter.

  ***

  Alexander stepped through the glass doors of Apex Luxury and paused.

  The showroom stretched before him, all polished marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows. Hover vehicles occupied carefully positioned platforms throughout the space, each one gleaming under the lights. A banner near the entrance caught his eye.

  Premium Hover Vehicles Only.

  He glanced up at the security camera mounted above the entrance, making sure his face was clearly visible.

  A salesperson with a practiced smile approached immediately. Mid-thirties, tailored suit. His eyes swept over Alexander’s expensive suit and cybernetic arm.

  “Good afternoon, sir. Are you looking for anything in particular today, or just browsing?”

  Alexander raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m in the market,” he said. “But I’m shopping around first. This is the fourth dealership today. I’m only in New York for two more days, but I intend to leave with a new car.” He paused. “Or three.”

  The salesperson’s smile widened fractionally. “Excellent. Please, allow me to show you what we have.”

  Alexander made his way across the showroom at a measured pace. The salesperson fell into step beside him, launching into descriptions as they walked.

  An armored SUV occupied a raised platform near the front entrance. The thing was massive, almost requiring a stepladder to access the cabin. Alexander circled it, running his hand along the side.

  “Reinforced plating,” the salesperson said. “Top of the line armor for a superhuman world and—”

  “Adequate,” Alexander said. He moved on.

  A sleek sports car shone under its spotlights. Lux Aero’s newest model, set to release next year. The salesperson opened the door without prompting. Alexander grabbed the top of the doorframe and leaned in, examining the interior.

  “The latest in their luxury line,” the salesperson offered. “Fully customizable, starting at—”

  “Hmm.” Alexander tilted his head. “It’s not bad. I think I preferred my last Lux’s interior though. It had more character.”

  He straightened and continued walking.

  The stretch limousine sat near the rear of the floor, shining white under the lights. Alexander paused beside it, glancing over the extended frame.

  “Tell me about this one.”

  The salesperson obliged, detailing specifications Alexander barely listened to. He nodded occasionally, made noncommittal sounds, and moved through the rest of the showroom at his own pace.

  Finally, he turned back toward the entrance.

  The salesperson produced a business card immediately. “Whenever you’re ready to make a decision, sir, I’d be happy to arrange—”

  Alexander took the card. “Thank you. I’ll certainly be leaving New York with some of these.”

  He walked out and made his way down the street toward the parked taxi.

  Talia’s three hours had turned into eight, but that was fine. It had given him plenty of time to see Manhattan.

  All of it.

  What had begun as a straightforward plan to pick up a few hoverbikes had evolved. Once he started thinking about it, Alexander felt a little ripped off by the simplicity of the task. There was just no challenge in finding a bike and providing it instructions to activate and drive to the warehouse at midnight in three nights.

  So, Alexander had made a list of things he needed to support his own plans. It wasn’t a very long list. Some precious metals, a slushy machine, servers, gaming consoles for the guild’s entertainment, quantum computers, a snow cone maker, and precision fabrication equipment.

  He’d kept the same taxi driver all day, tipping generously at each stop while the meter ran continuously. It was worth every credit. The guy knew the city inside and out, which had proven invaluable for finding everything Alexander needed.

  An armored transport facility. A tech corridor, three blocks from there, where server farms and advanced computing infrastructure filled entire buildings. Followed by a stretch of workshops and equipment suppliers.

  Four luxury vehicle dealerships spread across different parts of the city. The racing hoverbike showroom where Talia’s dream bike waited.

  And finally, the NYPMEX Market. The New York Precious Metals Exchange Market. A block-sized, fortified public topside building where people could buy and sell precious metals. Bullion and ingots. Coins.

  Running deep beneath the market were the NYPMEX Security Vaults. Of course, they housed their own products on site for their day trading needs. Gold and silver. Platinum and palladium. But they also provided publicly advertised security and storage for the entirety of New York’s needs. That expanded their holdings to include copper and rhodium. Rare earth elements for magnets and electronics, such as neodymium and dysprosium. Not to mention large stockpiles of titanium and aluminum.

  Undoubtedly there was more.

  Alexander hadn’t gone inside the market. Just watched it from inside the taxi, while the driver bought himself some lunch. The guy had even grabbed a burrito for him, which Alexander supposed was fair. By that point, he’d paid the man over 400 credits in tips alone.

  He had no knowledge of the layout of the Vaults or their security systems. However, Talia had provided a complete writeup of New York’s superheroes, including powers, Tiers, guilds, patrol routes, and known schedules.

  The Vaults had two superheroes rostered at all times. They worked twelve-hour shifts, with at least two days off after each shift.

  Under no circumstances would Alexander have considered attempting what he was now considering attempting, except for one very interesting scheduling flaw. A tiny detail. Insignificant to almost anyone other than him. Other than the Machine God himself.

  Three nights out of the month, both superheroes on duty in the Vaults were technopaths.

  He had no illusions that he was the most powerful superhuman technopath out there. Not yet, at least. But they were only Tier 2, like himself. One of them specifically used an armored mechanical suit. The other was a controller, relying on mobile weapons platforms.

  Still, Alexander felt torn with indecision.

  The bikes and vehicles were ready to go. The armored transport depot would provide him with the means to load up on servers, one or two quantum supercomputers, and some medium industrial fabrication units. He’d scheduled alarm systems to go off in stores strategically located across the city as a distraction.

  Almost everything was ready.

  It would be quite the haul. He’d even ensured cameras recorded his face at every location for their insurance claims.

  He was a supervillain, not an asshole.

  The problem remained, though.

  His powers had allowed him to prepare something akin to a perfect crime with the vehicles. The subtle, frankly insidious nature of what he could do was probably justification enough for his powers being Redacted when they’d awakened.

  Especially in a world that relied so heavily on computers and automation. In trusting that security systems would do as designed.

  Alexander had then expanded on the plan. Armored transports to haul servers and advanced computers from Manhattan offices and more. It added an element of risk. Offset by his distraction plan.

  The New York Precious Metals Exchange Market Vaults was unnecessary in the long term. Dangerous.

  Something that would make the plan, once executed, unforgettable. Legendary.

  Alexander pulled open the taxi door and slid inside.

  “Where to, boss?” the driver asked, glancing back at him in the rearview mirror.

  “Take me to the best boat club in the city,” Alexander said, staring out the window. “With the biggest yachts.”

  “Yessir.”

  The taxi pulled out and joined the flow of traffic.

  Alexander’s thoughts settled. He’d check the Exchange tomorrow, walk around and see if he could get a sense of the Vault’s layout and security beneath.

  Then he’d make a decision.

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