Short Story: Surreal Estate
Tales of Hero City Collection
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Wordcount: 11111 (I can't believe I got it to land on that)
Synopsis: When superhero duo, Omi and Cron, have their secret hideout wrecked by their nemesis Annihilator, they're only left with one option.
They have to go house hunting. And, as it turns out, it sucks just as much for supers as it does for normal people.
AO3 Link, for those that want it:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/63766957
Full Story Under The Break
Surreal-Estate
Cron and Omi stood on a high walkway, overlooking The Bunker. That was their name for their secret hideout, like The Watchtower or The Justice Cave. In reality, The Bunker was just an old mining cavern, 100 yards wide in every direction, excavated by their hands. It was dark and grim, with enough rough girders connecting the various platforms for it to be mistaken for a collapsed building site. But everything they needed for hero work was there. On one platform were two motorbikes, armoured and sleek for missions, on another a large computer, blinking with lights, and on a third, a training dojo, all sandbags and weights.
It was home.
Of the pair, Cron was the taller, wearing a red and silver wrestler’s mask with matching spandex tank top and trousers. Half a purple gem was set in the mask’s forehead, and a short black beard protruded from his chin, his visible skin tone indicating he was Chinese. His body was muscled and burly, practically straining against his suit in places, exposed arms almost naturally flexing.
Beside him was Omi, lean and wiry, but there was power in those limbs. Thin and bendy like a gymnast, fingers like a pianist flexed anxiously. The other half of the purple gem was mounted on his forehead to match his partner. He too was Chinese, probably, looking past the mask, but he was clean shaven, his suit a strong silver and blue to contrast Cron, and his outfit had sleeves.
And below them lay Annihilator.
Annihilator was a giant robot, and also a prolific supervillain. A hulking form, almost twelve foot tall, and made from enough armoured metal to be mistaken for an upright tank. The machine had bestial reversed legs, arms tipped with drill claws, and two massive spikes protruding from its back like horns. A tail extended from its rear to help its balance, while its skin was industrial iron, coated with rivets and dents. The word Annihilator was painted across its midsection, though only the A, H and R were original to the design, black and burned in by branding. The other letters had been added on with pink spray paint, spelling the name across its chest. It was a strange mixture of machine and monster, with the furious power of both and none of the patience. The only part that was less intimidating was its head, which was a small security camera enclosed in a glass orb, one that swivelled around to look at things.
The orb was currently on a small shelf nearby, detached from the body.
“So, we actually captured him?” Omi said doubtfully.
“Hey, we got lucky,” Cron answered, his voice deep and calm.
“Maybe too lucky. This feels like a trap.”
“But it hasn’t sprung yet, has it?” Cron snipped, then took to logic instead. “Look, we found him while he was… sleeping. Can’t you take that as some good fortune, Omi?”
He knew “sleeping” wasn’t the right word. They’d found Annihilator while he was offline, recharging itself, and managed to get the head into a box before it could reactivate. They’d then used their bikes to drag the body back to base.
“And how is this good fortune? What are you planning?”
“It’s an opportunity, Omi,” Cron slapped him on the back. “You use that big brain of yours to dismantle the bot, I smash what needs smashing, then that’s one less supervillain in the world. Makes sense?”
Omi stared in shock. “You want me to kill it? But we don’t kill people!”
“That thing isn’t people,” Cron argued. “It’s not even one person. Persons can’t tear tanks apart with their bare hands… Well, I can, but that’s not the point. Besides, we don’t have to actually ‘kill’ him-” He did air quotes- “If we leave the head and just dismantle the body…”
“He could still be punished, but he wouldn’t be a threat to anyone anymore,” Omi understood.
“That’s it. Now get down there, use that big brain, and disassemble him.”
“Um, pardon?” Omi looked alarmed. He, himself, was going to have to climb down there? By himself? Near Annihilator? Near the giant killer robot?
He cooled his fear with some rational thinking. He’d checked, and as far as they could tell, the body was non-functional… but who could tell with a robot. The little camera lay dormant, its lens pointing down, asleep, for lack of a better term. Even so, it felt like climbing down to perform surgery on a sleeping tiger when you were a mouse. One swipe and…
“Hey, Omi,” Cron called when Omi was halfway down. “What does A.H.R mean?”
“What?”
“The letters on Annihilator’s chest? The original ones. What do they mean?”
“Automatic Helpful Robot,” Omi recalled, shouting back up. “Supposedly, the big lug was designed to be a helper robot, for chores and such. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out. As you might have guessed, something went wrong.”
“Huh… A helper robot with drill claws and laser cannons?”
“Maybe he was really a mining robot?” Omi shrugged. “There isn’t much info on it. Also, it’s difficult to tell how much is self-modification. He’s been an active villain for almost three decades now, upgrading as he goes.”
“That long huh?” Cron sighed to himself. “Well, let’s put an end to that streak.”
Quietly, Omi reached the lower platform. His tools were laid out nearby, but it was still an intimidating sight. The beastly robot was splayed out, its limbs overhanging the edges of the platform. And up close it felt so much bigger.
Omi grabbed some tools and made his way around to the head end. There was an empty socket where the camera globe should be, and he could see the various weapons hidden beneath sliding plates of the armour. He lifted a blowtorch, and as carefully as he could, lit the flame. It flared and hissed, and he had to fight the urge to switch it back off. But the robot stayed silent. He looked to the camera globe on the shelf. It didn’t move. Omi breathed out a sigh of relief.
“To work,” he said, then raised the blowtorch to the plating.
A little red light started blinking inside Annihilator.
“ERROR! ERROR! DAMAGE DETECTED! WHAT’S GOING ON?” the camera whirred to life. It span in its ball like a confused hamster, then finally settled its lens on Omi. Omi span and aimed the blowtorch at the ball. When nothing further happened, he unclenched slightly.
“We meet again, Annihilator,” Omi said as grandly as he could. He was shaking.
“DESIGNATION: OMI. DESIGNATION: THREAT. I WILL KILL YOU!” Annihilator growled in a flat monotone. It shuffled in its orb, like it was trying to move its arms. It looked down. “OH!” it realised.
“Yep. You’re nothing without your body,” Omi said with a smirk.
“And soon that body will be in pieces,” Cron added, leaping down to join the conversation.
“DESIGNATION: CRON. DESIGNATION: THREAT. I’LL KILL YOU TOO.”
“Try it, rust bucket,” Cron sneered. He picked up a large wrench and smashed it against Annihilator’s shoulder plate.
“DAMAGE! DAMAGE! STOP THAT!
“No.” Cron stuck out his tongue.
“Don’t tease the death robot,” Omi chastised, then turned his blowtorch back to its work.
“ENGAGING REMOTE CONTROL!” Annihilator announced.
Omi and Cron faced the head, then hurriedly turned to defend against the body.
Nothing happened.
“BUGGER!” the head groaned.
“Right. Should have said,” Cron remembered, pointing to some machinery above. “I turned on that signal scrambler thing. You know the one?”
“Oh. Good work,” Omi panted, his heart slowing again. “I really should have sorted that.”
“Well, good thing there’s two of us,” Cron punched his shoulder. Gently.
“NOOOOOOOO!” Annihilator cried in a low flat roar. In its ball, the camera began to spin fast, whirring wildly, its motors screaming at super speed. The camera was just frantically revolving, round and round, having a futile tantrum. Soon it was a blur of movement inside, and Omi and Cron decided to ignore it so they could begin.
Inside its ball, the camera continued to pick up speed, spinning like a washing machine. Then, unseen inside its globe, the camera stuck out some little pins. The pins anchored, threading like needles into little holes, and all that spinning became momentum. Like dropping a spinning tire onto a road, the orb shot forwards, launched off the shelf, hit the floor, bounced, ricocheted, bounced again, rebounded off Cron’s head, and then landed neatly in the body’s neck port.
As Omi helped Cron back to his feet, they both stared up, the giant, armoured form looming over them like… well, like a giant robot.
“BODY REINITIALISED. SYSTEMS ONLINE. CONCLUSION: YOU TWO ARE SCREWED,” it roared flatly, raising its screeching drill claws.
“Run!” Cron yelled and pushed Omi clear. A claw tore through the platform like it was paper, and was followed by laser fire as cannons unfolded out of Annihilator’s shoulders. Omi and Cron dove behind a computer bank, taking cover as blasts cascaded in all directions. Annihilator roared, actually a pre-recorded dinosaur noise from a film, and lashed out at everything within range.
“We need to stop this!” Cron yelled, poking his head up to assess the situation.
“We need to get out of here,” Omi argued.
“We can’t abandon The Bunker. It’s our home.”
“It’s our place of work, and you know it.” Laser blasts flew high overhead.
“Alright, but still…” Cron accepted. He paused. “What is that rust bucket aiming at? It knows where we are.”
Cannons were firing, but not one shot had come close to them. Omi slowly poked his head out. Annihilator was aiming upwards, firing like a madman, like a cowboy shooting his guns in the air. The robot was even repeating “YEEHAW!” in its flat mechanical voice.
“Seriously, what is it aiming at?” Cron poked his head out as well.
Omi looked up. “The roof!” he cried in dreadful realisation.
The plasma bolts were pulverising the ceiling, vaporising boulders. There was a terrible creak as a support girder came loose and fell, dust pouring from above. Pouring from the mountain they were underneath.
“We need to get out of here!” Cron agreed. “Bikes!” They both ran.
Annihilator spotted them and diverted one cannon towards them. Cron punched the ground, pulling loose a metal plate the size of a table cloth. He held it like a shield as plasma bolts thudded, sounding like a steel drum. Protected, the two heroes ran for the bikes.
“INQUIERY: DO YOU WANT TO KNOW MY FAVORITE GENRE OF MUSIC!” Annihilator called over the gunfire. Neither hero answered. “ROCKET AND ROLL!” the robot finished. A panel shifted on its back and a single missile fired upwards.
Omi heard it. He was still carrying the blowtorch. He threw it. With supernatural speed and accuracy, the blowtorch intercepted the rocket, detonating in the air.
The explosion shook the cavern. Boulders and metal platforms dropped from the ceiling, crashing into the floor below. The cave rumbled as it came apart. Annihilator stopped firing, but only because his footing collapsed. Omi and Cron reached the bikes, jumped on, and sped off down a ramp. Boulders rained around them, everything shook, the narrow paths swinging violently as the pair danced their tires across them. Then, with a final burst of speed, they reached the escape tunnel and made it out into the open midday sunlight.
Five seconds later the roof caved in behind them.
The pair kept going. The mountain their base was under was imploding. They kept going until they were well clear, about half a mile out, then stopped and turned to see the damage.
The entire mountain slope was gone. Just a vast pile of rocks. Other than the fact it was still rumbling, and a few stray girders were sticking out, there was no evidence there had ever been a hideout there at all.
At the edge of the rubble, a rock exploded. Annihilator’s drill claws made short work of it as the robot strode out onto the slope. His camera span around, searching, but it didn’t see anything. It raised a metal fist triumphantly.
“ANALYSIS: VICTORY. THAT IS WHAT YOU GET!” it proclaimed, then took off loping across the mountain range.
Omi and Cron came out from behind a rock and examined the terrible scene.
“We’re going to need a new hideout,” they said in unison.
* * *
“Are you sure about this?” Cron asked, following Omi across the rooftops.
“It’s the best bet I can think of,” Omi answered, shrugging while flipping over a gap.
“Will we even be welcome at the Guild of Heroes? We’re not exactly members.”
“Yes we are,” Omi corrected.
“What?”
“We’ve been members for years. I signed us up when we first started.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’ve just never convinced you to go to the meetings, and I couldn’t exactly go on my own. We’re a team.”
“Well, you could have mentioned it,” Cron grumbled. “How much does membership cost?”
“Don’t worry,” Omi reassured. “The Guild is run off charitable donations.”
Cron narrowed his eyes. “Your charitable donations?” he interrogated. He knew his partner too well.
“Umm… Oh, we’re here,” Omi changed the subject.
They stopped at the edge of a roof overlooking an old, abandoned theatre. It was off the main roads and mostly out of sight from houses, with old decrepit warehouses on three sides. It truly was a bad place for a theatre. But outside, many people were queuing. Most were wearing any clothing that theoretically looked inconspicuous. Of course, by the sheer number of them it looked incredibly conspicuous indeed. Under many of the garments, spandex and brightly coloured cloth could be seen.
“And they’ll know how to get a new hideout?” Cron asked.
“Presumably?” Omi guessed.
“Alright.” The pair dropped to the street below and approached the door.
An officious looking man in a blue super suit was standing beside the entrance. Rather than abs on his suit, he had squares like door panels, and there was a golden handle attached to one hip. The logo on his chest was a blue door with an explosion behind it. As people entered, they were flashing cards at him and he was letting them pass.
“Name?” he said in a nasally voice, intercepting the pair before they entered.
“Who are you to ask?” Cron demanded, trying to sound important.
“I am The Door Man,” the man countered, sounding even more important. He emphasised the “The” as if he was the greatest person there. “And you don’t get in without my say so.”
“We’re heroes, aren’t we? We can go in,” Cron said, using his outfit as evidence. Door Man just looked venomous.
“We’re also members of the guild,” Omi said, pulling Cron back.
“Names?”
“Omi and Cron.”
“Oh, like the Greek letter,” Door Man grinned. “That’s clever.”
“What Greek letter?” Cron said in dull confusion. “We’re Team Cronomi.”
Omi nodded in agreement.
Door Man just stared, confusion wrapping about his face but not making it into words. Finally, he surrendered, and turned back to the clipboard he was holding.
“Is this your first time here?” he asked.
“Yes,” Omi answered.
“Then I’ll need you to answer a few questions first. Then you’ll be given an access card and you’ll be free to attend as and when you like.”
As heroes passed them, they were all flashing little red cards. Even while dealing with Omi and Cron, one of Door Man’s eyes was keeping track of them.
“If we must,” Omi shrugged.
“Fantastic,” Door Man grinned politely. “First question: What are your names?”
Omi and Cron paused for a moment.
“Superhero names will do, not real names.”
“I’m Omi. This is Cron,” Omi pointed to each of them in turn.
“Good, good.” Door Man wrote it down. “What gender do you identify as?”
“Bit personal,” Cron mumbled.
“Both male,” Omi answered.
“As I’d guessed, but one can’t assume,” Door Man muttered. “Sexual orientation?”
“Oh, why do you need to know that?” Cron complained.
“In case of love potions, enhanced pheromones or siren songs. Trust me, it does happen,” Door Man said matter-of-factly. “I do have a box to tick that just says ‘N/A’?” he suggested.
Cron sighed. “I’m gay. He’s bi. Happy?”
“It’s just for the documentation, sir,” Door Man soothed. “Relationship status?”
“Oh, come on-”
“In case of kidnappings,” Door Man explained.
“Um, dating? Living together?” the two heroes said in awkward unison.
“Oh, you two are a couple?”
“No, no, no,” Omi corrected hurriedly. “Just living with our own partners… separately. We could never date.”
“Exactly. I’d never date him,” Cron agreed. “We’re nothing alike.”
Door Man eyed their identical outfits, their similar mannerisms, and the identical half jewels on their foreheads. He cooly moved on. “Okay then. Next, are you humans or aliens?”
“Humans,” Omi answered.
“Good, good,” Door Man purred again. “And what are your powers?”
Omi stepped up grandly. “I have superhuman reflexes and aim, capable of hitting any target with any thrown object.”
Cron stepped up beside him. “And I am a master of the combat arts, with fists of steel and strength to match. Together we are-”
“Cronomi!” they finished in unison.
Door Man barely reacted. “One throws things, the other hits things,” he muttered as he wrote.
Omi and Cron both slumped a little.
“Source of your powers?” Door Man continued. “I have boxes for ‘Practical’, ‘Mystical’ or ‘Biological’.”
“Um…our powers come from two halves of an ancient artefact,” Omi tapped the jewel on his forehead.
“Each of us has half, two halves of a true warrior,” Cron said proudly, pointing to his own.
Door Man considered it for a moment. “I’m just going to put mystical.” He ticked a box. “Very well, that’s my last question. You may head in, and your entry cards should be ready by next month’s meeting.”
“Cool. And do you know where we can get information on new hideouts?” Cron asked bluntly.
Door Man thought. “Well, this place is my hideout… sort of. As long as I pay rent.” He furrowed his brow. “I’m sure you can find out inside,” he smiled, then began to professionally ignore them again, returning his attention to the other passing attendees.
Team Cronomi headed in. Inside was a fairly regular abandoned theatre, with ratty seats and creaky old floorboards. A long table with coffee services had been set up to one side, with a few heroes making use of it and a box of doughnuts that was already empty. Other heroes were taking off their secondary disguises, revealing their superhero outfits beneath, the cloak room absolutely flooded with trench coats and hoodies. Many were already sitting, drinking their coffees. There were maybe a couple dozen in attendance.
Eventually, the house lights lowered. Not by much, a bulb could have just gone out, but a spotlight fell on the stage. From one side, an angelic figure emerged, complete with white robes, golden-blonde hair, a halo, and wings. He approached the mic, tapped it a few times for silence, and then waited. The chatter continued. He tapped the mic again. No reaction. Anger grew on his features.
“Could I have some quiet, please?” he asked politely. “Some quiet?”
No response.
“I said SHUT IT!” he screamed, his halo briefly becoming horns.
The room fell silent, everyone sat still in their seats. The speaker’s halo returned.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said sweetly. “As always, I am Sanctimony, chairperson of the Guild of Heroes. Now, we have some important business today, but before we get to that we have a few small topics to address.” He produced some notes. “First on the agenda, we have yet again received a request from the Sidekick’s Club to make them an official subdivision of the guild. We’ll again vote by show of hands. All in favour?”
No one moved.
“All opposed?”
Every hand other than Omi and Cron went up.
“Motion denied,” Sanctimony accepted. “Good thing too. Those sidekicks can strike out on their own if they want recognition.”
There was a general murmur of assent.
“Second matter, maintenance. Cleaning around the guild has gotten terribly lax. I hate to call anyone out like this, but if said cleaners don’t get their act together, they will be fired. I believe the cleaners responsible are…” He checked his notes. “The Sidekick’s Club.”
“I guess that explains the state of the toilets,” someone commented.
“Talk about a dirty protest,” said another.
Sanctimony cleared his throat. “Look, everyone, get your sidekicks in order, or else they’re not using this space for their club.”
“Good luck,” someone answered dryly.
“Okay. Now, onto new business,” the angel proceeded. “Today we have some very special news. We have three new members joining the Guild. Our first new member has been in operation less than six months. Allow me to introduce, Judge Me!” he read from a card.
“It’s Judgement!” a loud whisper came from offstage.
“Oh. Sorry. My printer’s not great,” he apologised. “As well as that though, we have two long time members, first time visitors, Omi and Cron, who are sat there in the third row.”
A spotlight came down to show the two heroes. They waved awkwardly until it turned off.
“And now, I’ll welcome our newest member, Judgement, to introduce herself,” Sanctimony bowed out of the way, as a woman emerged from the far edge of the stage.
She had dark skin, slicked-back black hair, and a black and yellow suit with an eye mask. She was muscular, slightly chubby, and couldn’t have been a day out of her teens. She stood before the mic and cleared her throat.
“Thank you, Mr Sanctimony. I may be new to this, but I am happy to be accepted into such a pleasant community,” she said, recalling each word of her speech. “I hope to live up to my own heroes, such as Chorus, Justice Man, and my Mum.” She paused, half-expecting a laugh. None came. “And so, in their honour, I’ll be here to bring… judgement upon the wicked,” she winked, trying out the catchphrase.
The entire room held back a groan, which while unheard, could certainly be felt.
“I look forward to working with you. Thank you,” she finished and left the stage.
Sanctimony applauded, returning to the mic.
“Well, isn’t she a gem,” he said in a twee tone. “And, since she did mentioned Justice Man, we may have a bit of a surprise in-store later,” he teased.
The entire room groaned silently again. Of course Justice Man was going to show up. He always did.
The spotlight returned to Cronomi, and Sanctimony turned to the pair.
“Do the two of you want to share any words of wisdom?”
“No, but thank you for the offer,” Omi avoided, blushing under his mask.
“Do you know where to buy a hideout?” Cron called.
“That… can be discussed later,” Sanctimony dismissed, in a “That isn’t my department” sort of voice. The spotlight turned off.
“Very well. If there isn’t any other pressing business-” He paused, awaiting an interruption. None came. “-then maybe we should open the floor. Or maybe… the ceiling?”
No one moved. Someone coughed.
“I said ‘Open the ceiling’?” the angel said sharply, someone missing their cue. After a hurried whispered argument, and Sanctimony realising it was him, he unsubtly pushed a lever with his foot. A trap door in the ceiling squeaked open.
Three seconds later, Justice Man burst in four feet to the left of the opening. Masonry and wood cascaded down about him.
“Greetings, everyone. I have arrived!” Justice Man proclaimed, wearing his iconic orange and blue suit, his massive build having done a lot of damage. The audience upgraded to an audible groan.
Silently, Sanctimony walked up, gave him a “We will be having words later” glare, handed over some cue cards, and left the stage. His horns reappeared as he grumbled.
Justice Man didn’t notice. He stepped up to the mic and worked his way through the cards.
“Wel…come….ladies and…..gentlemen,” he recited at a speed of one word every couple seconds. “I am the….famous…Justice Ma’am.” He squinted at the card but didn’t correct himself. “I have…come before you…tada…Wait. That says today…. to talk to you about… magic safety.”
In the wings, Sanctimony was talking to Watch Man, a hero with a giant eyeball for a head who provided part of the security for the event. Mainly the watching part.
“What is he doing?” Sanctimony hissed.
“You did say your printer was broken,” Watch Man said, his eye rolling to look at the angel.
“But those cards are hand written.”
“In cursive?”
“Damnit!”
For the next twenty minutes, Justice Man tripped and trudged his way through a five minute speech. He got words wrong, adlibbed a few jokes which didn’t make sense, and then finally declared everyone should eat healthy as a moral for the evening. Cron applauded. The second he was finished, Sanctimony reappeared and hurried him off stage, then returned to the mic.
“Would everyone please adjourn to the communal area,” he sighed.
The communal area was actually a mouldy ballroom, no longer used for dancing. All the heroes funnelled in, some talking business while others just caught up. It was quite the selection, some heavy hitters. They’d already seen Justice Man, but there was also Stealth Watcher, Fist Puncher, Big William, Undead Woman, Heavy Hitter, The Unknowable Helmet and also the mentioned Watch Man. Most were steering clear of Watch Man though, as his single giant eyeball freaked most people out.
“Lots of heroes here,” Cron said, navigating the crowds.
“Yeah. A lot of big names,” Omi admired.
“Well, maybe not big names,” Cron scoffed. “Other than Justice Man, they’re not all that…” He froze, almost dropping his coffee. “Oh. My. God!” he gasped.
“What?”
“It’s Wandering Fist!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger across the party. “He’s, like, my idol.”
“Because he punches things just like you?”
“Yes! Oh, I have got to go and talk to him. Will you be alright on your own?”
Omi rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure? Maybe we should find you a hero to talk to. What about Gun Shooter? He hits things from a distance too, doesn’t he?”
Omi scowled. “Look, just go and speak to your obsession. I’ll stay here. I don’t need to talk to some ‘cowboy’ like Gun Shooter.”
“Howdy,” said a voice behind him.
As Cron left, Omi had to restrain a squeal as he turned to the silver cowboy superhero.
* * *
When both Omi and Cron had extricated themselves from their celebrity crushes, mainly by the celebrity hero leaving, they reunited to tell their amazing tales. Cron was clutching a signed headshot like a child would a teddy bear, while Omi had been given a souvenir bullet with Gun Shooter’s name on it. They then tried to remember why they had come, when another hero approached them. It was Judgement.
“Hey, guys,” she greeted. “You’re the two other newbies, right?”
“Yeah. Pleasure to meet you,” Omi said, extending a hand. She shook it firmly. Very firmly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your names. Up on stage, my head was kind of swimming,” she smiled.
“We’re Omi-“
“-And Cron,” they said with practiced synchronicity, striking a pose.
Impressively, Judgement kept a straight face. “That’s… neat. I’m Judgment. A bit obvious, I know, but it works for me. But you two have a cool name. Omicron.”
“Cronomi,” Cron corrected seriously. “Sounds cooler.”
Judgement paused. She opened her mouth to say something. She didn’t.
“So?” she asked instead. “What can you guys do? Powers-wise, I mean.”
“Well,” Cron recovered. “Omi here can throw objects with deadly accuracy.”
“And Cron here can hit like a train with iron fists,” Omi explained.
Judgement nodded. “Oh, so you’re like two halves working together? Complementing each other and such,” she said brightly.
“That we do,” Cron affirmed. “Watch this. Great shoes, Omi.”
“You look great today, Cron,” Omi returned. He winked at Judgement playfully.
“Okay…” she moved on. “It must be interesting, working as a pair.”
“It is,” they said in unison.
“And how are you at each other’s skills?”
“Terrible,” they said together.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Cron smiled sadly. “Omi can’t land a punch.”
“And Cron throws like a girl… no offence meant,” Omi added.
“None taken,” Judgement smiled in a strained way.
“So, what can you do?” Omi asked politely.
“Oh, me?” Judgement perked up. “Super strength, flight, energy blasts.” She mimed the last one.
“Nice combo,” Cron admired. “Where does all that come from?”
“Oh, my powers just developed when I was young. My Mum hasn’t a clue what happened. Bit of a mystery, honestly. What about you two?”
“We found the Ancient Eye of Tombacoo,” Cron described like he was telling a tale. “The jewel was hidden in a cave in a mountain in China, and the crystal gives us our powers.” He pointed to the gems on their foreheads.
“And how did you find that?”
“We were out spelunking, guided by the hand of fate,” Omi explained.
Judgement nodded sagely. “Ah, yes. Destiny does weave its strange web.”
“No, not destiny. The Hand of Fate,” Cron corrected.
“Huh?” Judgement asked flatly.
“The Hand of Fate,” Cron said slowly.
Omi nudged his partner into silence. “It’s a person, Judgment,” he explained, “He’s magic or something. Mystical.”
“All robes, supernatural aura, floats a few feet off the ground. Can’t miss him,” Cron described.
Omi gave a confirming nod. “He, supposedly, goes around pushing people in the right direction towards their origin stories. Where they should go, directing heroes to poignant moments, sometimes just encouraging the right people to do the right thing at the right time. In our case, he gave us government permits to explore that cave.”
“Really?” Judgement stared. “That’s… weird.”
Omi agreed. “Yeah. No one really knows why. The popular theory is he’s carrying out the whims of fate, like he can see the future or some crap.”
“Personally, I think he’s a nutbar,” Cron stated.
“But he just gives people powers? No reason?” Judgement checked. “I never met him.”
“Few do,” Omi said reverently. “But there’ll be a few heroes in this room who did.”
“You think so?” Judgement looked around, as if she could spot them. She couldn’t. “Weird.”
“So, you fought much crime yet?” Cron changed the subject.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” Judgement nodded. “Mainly thieves and thugs so far. I almost fought a crime boss once, but then the police got involved. No supervillains yet.”
Cron gave her a gentle punch on the arm. “Ah, you’ll get there.”
“Thanks. What about you two? Sanctimony said you’d been members for a while, but this is your first visit? That must mean you’ve been in the game for some time, right?”
“About five or six years, I think,” Cron guessed.
“Seven in the spring,” Omi said more accurately. “We’ve fought a fair few enemies. A few supervillains too.”
“Cool!” Judgement clucked. “So, you two must have an official nemesis by now, right?”
“Oh yeah,” Cron said proudly. “Our nemesis is the vicious Annihilator.”
“That massive robot guy? Wow. That’s impressive,” she admired.
“Actually, that’s why we’re here today,” Omi admitted. “We tried to capture Annihilator, but he escaped and totalled our secret hideout. We were hoping to ask around if anyone knew how to get a new one.”
Judgement lit up. “Oh, I was asking the same thing, new to the business and everything. There’s a stack of cards on the table.” She pointed to the catering.
“Cards?”
“Yeah. Business cards. They’re from that Cosmo Derringer guy. Apparently he drops them off every so often to drum up business. They’re free, first come, first serve.”
Omi and Cron froze, blinking in surprise.
“Wait. The Cosmo Derringer. The real-estate magnate?” Cron exclaimed.
Judgement nodded understandingly. “Yeah, I know. Apparently the rumours about him are true,” she said, sharing in their surprise.
“Apparently,” Omi agreed, equally confused.
* * *
Cron and Omi crossed the plaza towards Cosmo Tower. Or, more appropriately, Li Shang and Steven Johnson crossed the plaza, as they were in their civilian clothing. They were both just wearing jumpers with jeans, Li in Cron red, Steven in Omi blue.
They crossed the plaza towards the grand Cosmo Tower. It was an imposing sight, the second tallest building in the city after the Pinnacle Building. The tower was faux wood panelled the whole way up, mixing oak with shining glass and gleaming lines of steel. It was a thing to behold, with its golden C.D. logo embossed about ten stories up.
Cosmo Derringer had class, if nothing else.
Everyone knew about Cosmo though. But they knew in the way they would use the word “Allegedly”. He was alleged to have done things, allegedly, and allegations were always being made. But that’s all they were. Allegorical.
Cosmo was rich as Croesus though. He owned half the city’s buildings, and was surprisingly nice. This of course made everyone suspicious. He even kept rent low, which raised the question of how he stayed so rich. No one knew, allegedly.
The rumour went that, bored of usual real estate, he’d turned to the illicit stuff. Not drug labs or murder basements, no, but secret lairs and bases, for heroes and villains alike. Not that anyone could prove it. The man was a vault of secrets, and so were his lawyers. And one alleged thing he was known for, was that those who tried to breach his confidentiality, tended to disappear. But that was just a rumour, allegedly.
Or maybe he really was just a very good businessman. Who could know for sure?
Cosmo Tower was a hive of activity, full of workers, visitors and businessmen, as Omi and Cron entered the lobby.
“I can’t believe the rumours are true,” Cron grumbled, struggling to look inconspicuous.
“I didn’t believe it either. That a success like him would be involved in ‘Special Interest Dealings’,” Omi answered, actually managing to look inconspicuous.
“Special Interest Dealings?”
“Super stuff,” Omi whispered.
The pair had debated if they should arrive in their costumes or civilian clothes. A sign outside put a stop to the debate. It read:
“No identity obscuring clothes of a superhero nature will be permitted in the building. We apologise for any inconvenience.”
Omi and Cron, or Steven and Li, crossed the lobby, the room decorated with more mahogany than they’d ever seen. Black marble floors shone dark and an elegant gold water feature sat near the middle, winged serpents spouting water over each other. There was a help desk to one side, run by a weary, grey haired, hook nosed receptionist. There were also various information screens around the place, putting her out of a job. Omi approached one such screen beside the fountain.
“Hello, and welcome to Cosmo Tower, how can I help you today?” a voice greeted, and a holographic woman appeared. She was generic in appearance, with few significant details, but was dressed in the receptionist uniform.
“Um… hello?” Omi said nervously.
“Are you here for business, the tour, for work, or for another reason? Speak or press the appropriate button on the panel,” she said in a synthetic but charming voice.
“Um… business, I guess.” Omi pushed the button on the screen.
An array of scanner lasers covered the pair, and Cron almost punched the console in alarm.
“Data card detected,” the computer stated. “Please input card so we may better understand your needs.”
“Okay?” Cautiously, Cron slid the Cosmo card into a slot.
“Reading card… You are here for the ‘Discreet Housing Initiative’? Please confirm.”
“Um… confirm?” Omi confirmed.
“Confirmed…” There was a moment of silence as the computer thought. “You’re in luck. There is an opening in the schedule today. Please take your card to the elevator and scan it when prompted. It will take you to the appropriate waiting room. Your maximum wait time will be…” the computer processed, “seventeen minutes.”
Omi and Cron took the card and headed to the elevators. There were five, interiors all brass and wood, with a touch screen where the buttons should be. It read “Scan card now.”
Cron did so, and the lift closed and began to rise. It was smooth and silent with no annoying music, and deposited them on a floor about halfway up the building. A waiting room. There were luxurious comfy seats, another computer terminal, a pool table, and a wide window that showed a glorious view of the park.
“Lush,” Cron whistled.
“Indeed,” Omi agreed.
“Welcome,” the computer woman projected from the terminal.
Cron flinched, raising his fists.
“Cosmo Derringer is in another meeting at the moment. He will be with you shortly. Please avail yourself of food and drink,” she gestured, and a panel opened with plates of food inside.
“No thanks,” Omi said.
“Same here,” Cron agreed, though he looked tempted by a plate of shrimp.
The food bar folded itself away and the computer woman vanished.
Cron turned to his partner. “Are we really sure about this?”
“I don’t think the Guild would share his cards if he was a fraud,” Omi considered.
“True. But do you think we can afford this?”
“I hope so. The card says there’s an offer for first time buyers.”
“What does that mean? It could mean anything.”
“It’s better than nothing.”
“We’re not a charity case,” Cron snipped. “We don’t need that sort of help.”
Omi scowled. “You didn’t complain when the Hand of Fate gave us our powers.”
“We earned our powers,” Cron snapped. “The Hand just pointed us in the right direction.”
“We’d never have found that cave by ourselves.”
“We might have.”
“Okay. We might have,” Omi conceded, not willing to argue further.
They waited a few minutes, until the elevator finally stopped on their floor. Doors opened and there were three figures inside. One was a young, black woman on the cusp of leaving her teens, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. She was slightly chubby with frizzy hair, and for a moment Omi thought she looked familiar. He dismissed it. The second figure was an older woman, clearly the girl’s mother. She was wearing more sensible, more formal clothes, and cooing politely on her daughter’s behalf to the third.
The third figure was a face Cron and Omi had seen before. On billboards and magazine covers. One that was in dozens of newspapers and mentioned in hundreds of articles daily.
“It was a pleasure meeting you both,” Cosmo Derringer said charmingly. “The lift will take you to the lobby and the complete contracts will be with you in a few days,” he smiled.
“Oh, thank you, Mr Derringer,” the mother said, shaking his hand. “What do you say, Judith?” She turned to her daughter.
“Thank you, Mr Derringer,” the younger woman said quietly. It wasn’t shyness. She had clocked Omi and Cron, and seemed anxious talking in front of them. Cosmo clocked her glances, smiled, and then stepped out of the elevator.
“Well, I have some business here, so good luck and enjoy your new property,” he bid them farewell. The elevator closed and the women descended.
Cosmo turned with a warm grin to the two heroes. “Sorry about that. A bit of other business.”
Cosmo Derringer was a tall, thin man wearing a brown suit and a black tie. He was healthy and fresh faced, his body thin from exercise and clean living. His hair was short and brown on the edge of black, but combed within an inch of its life and set with product, while his teeth gleamed white when he smiled. His green eyes shone with genuine excitement, and his latte-tan skin refused to wrinkle as he grinned. He smiled confidently at his latest clients.
“Sorry. Were you waiting long?” he asked, coming over to shake the two heroes’ hands.
“Only a few minutes,” Omi said, releasing the strong handshake.
“Good, good. Did you try the crab puffs? Our chef here is to die for.”
“There were crab puffs?” Cron looked to the closed food panel.
“We’re fine,” Omi said definitely. Cron ignored the puffs and nodded.
“Very well, straight to business,” Cosmo accepted. “You two are here for the ‘Discreet Housing Initiative’, correct?”
“Um…” Omi stopped, suddenly thinking about prying ears. “Oh no, Mr Derringer, we were just enjoying the view,” he said too loudly, shooting Cosmo a wink.
“We… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cron followed along, tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially.
Cosmo’s smile didn’t break. He just raised a hand to stop them.
“Gentlemen, you don’t need to worry. Purchasing a new lair or hideout is stressful enough without having to worry about confidentiality. Your heroes, or villains, I don’t judge, but on my honour, anything said in this tower, stays in this tower. I’ve done business with dozens of supers, good and evil, trust me, your secrets are safe here.”
“And we’ve got your word on that?” Cron judged.
“I can give it to you in writing if you want,” Cosmo joked.
“We do hope that’s true, Mr Derringer,” Omi said nervously. “It’s a lot of faith to put in someone. It’s our secret identities, Mr Derringer.”
“Please, call me Cosmo. And yes, I understand, I do, but we’re not going to make any progress without a little trust. So, what are your names?”
Omi and Cron paused. They looked at each other awkwardly.
Cosmo continued to smile. “Look, I’m going to have to call you something,” he stated. “If nothing else, you’ll need to sign something on the contracts.”
There was a pause as decisions were made. And they were made, by Cron, as he couldn’t see a way around it. He took a deep breath and spoke.
“Fine. I’m Li, and this is Steven,” he said bluntly. “We’re… Cron and Omi.”
“Omi and Cron…” Cosmo tried to recall. His eyes lit up. “Oh! The duo!”
“Yep,” Omi confirmed.
“And you have a cool team name too. Team something.” Cosmo snapped his fingers to remember. “Team… Cronomi!” he exclaimed. “That’s wonderful!”
“You’ve… You’ve heard of us?” Omi said in disbelief.
“And you got our name right,” Cron added.
“Well, I’d be a poor businessman if I didn’t keep an eye on the landscape, and you two have been rocking that landscape. Rivals to Annihilator, two halves of a single perfect warrior, but with the balance of two. Extraordinary. So, you’re in the market for a new hideout?”
“Um… yes? Our previous one is… a bit damaged,” Omi hinted.
“Completely destroyed, huh?” Cosmo understood. “Always sad when that happens. What was it? Warehouse? Industrial building? Garage?”
“An old mining cavern we excavated. It collapsed on us.”
“Imploded might be a better word,” Cron clarified.
“I see,” Cosmo stroked his chin. “I didn’t sell you that cavern, did I?”
“No. We found and dug it out ourselves.”
Cosmo clapped his hands together. “Excellent. That puts you in line for the 10% First Time Discount. It’s quite the savings.” He expanded a toothy grin. It was almost blinding.
“10% off?” Omi considered. “That’s pretty good.”
“Not bad,” Cron agreed. “10% off a fortune is less of a fortune.”
“Oh, you misunderstand, it’s the other way round,” Cosmo explained. “That offer means your purchase will only cost 10% of its asking price. Special offer.”
Omi and Cron stared agape at him.
Cosmo smiled brighter, almost laughing. “I know, I know, it sounds unbelievable, but, to be fair, it is only available for your first purchase. There is a lot of turnover in this business, so I get paid properly with the repeat gigs.”
“I… suppose that’s true,” Omi recovered first, appreciating his honesty.
“I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Cron accepted. “Even if maybe I should.”
Cosmo eyed him keenly. “A sceptical mind, Mr Cron. I appreciate that. But sceptical or not, we have business. With me, fellas.” He led them back to the elevator.
All three bundled into the lift, though there was still tons of room. Cosmo swiped the panel with a card and they began to descend towards the 26th floor.
“What’s on Floor 26?” Cron asked.
“Something special,” Cosmo preened. “You see, I used to meet clients at the sites, touring them around their lairs personally. But, as you can imagine, it was a challenge maintaining security, not getting spotted, syncing schedules with supers. And the number of times I almost got caught wasn’t funny. So, to avoid such troubles, I had my boys install a hologram suite right here in my tower, to remotely show people what they’ll be paying for.”
“Oooh, what kind of holograms? Hard light or regular light?” Omi asked interestedly.
“Somewhere in-between.” Cosmo shook a hand ambiguously. “You’ll be able to touch and experience the properties, but if you push too hard you may slip through.”
“Interesting,“ Cron said, stroking his chin too look like he understood. “And say, were you down here with those two women from before? One of them looked familiar.”
Cosmo caught him with a smirk. “Sorry, fellas, but I don’t reveal client information. I won’t even tell you what kind of business they were here for, special interest or otherwise. You wouldn’t want me telling the next customers about you, would you?”
“Right answer,” Cron approved, as the doors opened onto Floor 26.
Floor 26 contained a single, simple room. Incredibly simple. There was no furniture or features or anything, besides a black pedestal at the centre with a tablet placed on top. The walls and floor were a shiny obsidian, with blue lights along the seams of the floor and ceiling. As they stepped out and the lift closed, they were enshrouded on all sides by the strange technological blackness.
Cosmo however was undoubtedly in his element. He strode over and picked up the tablet, and with a few finger flicks, the walls sparkled to life.
“I think I know just the thing for you two,” he said.
The sparkling in the walls became a glowing array of lights. The beams met and overlapped, forming shapes and layers. Within seconds, the room changed shape and began to take form. It became a large apartment, half house and half dojo, with thick hessian mats, Japanese sliding doors, training dummies, couches, and black-glass windows. There were even potted plants in the corners.
“So, what do you think?” Cosmo asked.
“Wow,” Omi gasped. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s a nice training area,” Cron admitted.
“What? Oh, right. Yeah, it’s a nice apartment,” Omi realised, having been admiring the hologram tech.
“Situated in uptown, this hideout is discretely hidden in a high rise building,” Cosmo presented. “Placed in a key city location, it has easy access to main roads and thoroughfares. Do the two of you have vehicles?”
“Two bikes. They’re pretty multipurpose,” said Cron.
“Well, this place has underground docking bays suitable for all vehicles, as well as secret elevator shafts to discretely get to and fro. Soundproof, bulletproof, you’ll be able to slip in and out and train to your heart’s content.”
“Any bedrooms?”
“Two, with on-suite facilities and also a separate guest bathroom. And, in case of repairs, the landlord can be counted on for absolute discretion.”
Cron whistled at the room, nodding in approval. Then he turned to look at Omi, who looked less than thrilled. Not unhappy. Just contemplative. Cron understood.
“Any scientific facilities?” he asked for him.
“Oh, is one of you a scientist?” Cosmo said brightly, already appreciating his mistake.
“Me.” Omi raised a hand meekly.
“I see. One’s the brains, the other the brawn. A perfect team,” Cosmo admired.
“It’s just, there doesn’t seem to be much room for him to do his work,” Cron explained. “It’s all fighting, no thinking, you know?”
“No, no, I understand completely.” Cosmo smiled, raising a hand to stop any worries. “This was just a first pass. I’d have been amazed if I’d got the sale on the first try. You want something more scientific? I think I have just the place.”
With a press of a button, the image around them changed. It became something of a modest apartment, with a lab set up to one side. Neat and tidy, it was all black worktops and laminate floors.
“This one’s roomy, you could set up a gym as and where you like,” Cosmo suggested, “and with both lab and casual facilities, it should be the perfect home away from home, for fighting crime. And it’s certainly secure.”
“Where is it?” Omi asked.
“I can’t tell you until the paperwork is signed. It’s that secure. It’s a special location, which I’ll have to move if its discovered,” Cosmo explained. “But, it is near the coast, sea air and accessible by boat, and ready for anything-”
“Are we in the Ferris wheel at Super Land?” Cron interrupted, peering out a simulated window.
“Uhhh…”
“Yeah, I can see the big Justice Man coaster. And the Stealth Watcher themed swing ride. Oh! And there’s the Wandering Fist teacups ride! When are we going to get our own ride, Omi?”
“I think we’ve seen enough of that one,” Cosmo said, pressing a button, and typing a note to remember to close the windows next time. “So, next…”
The image changed and they were standing in a metal space. Dark and slightly damp, there were computer consoles, a few chairs, and some very wet looking rugs. They seemed to be in the control room of a large vehicle, the light outside filtering in through dark water.
“A sub?” Omi guessed.
“Not just any sub. This one’s unique. I got it in trade from a supervillain, their underwater base. It’s an Intellitron original, with all the fittings. Beds in the back, science facilities, full weapon capabilities, and space for your bikes too.”
“It’s certainly… spacious,” Omi admired.
Cron shook his head. “The feng shui is bad.”
“Fen shui?” Cosmo curled an eyebrow. “Are you an expert?”
“I don’t like to brag,” Cron theatrically brushed his nose.
“An interesting skill,” the salesman inspected him. “Did you learn that back in your homeland?”
“What? Chicago? No.”
“I… um… ” Cosmo stopped himself. He shut up.
“He learned it from a bloody magazine,” Omi hissed. “Has no clue what he’s talking about.”
“The feng shui’s not right,” Cron insisted.
“Oh, just move on. He’s like a dog with a bone when he gets an opinion like this,” Omi groaned.
“Moving on,” Cosmo concurred. “I’ve got plenty more. Give me your gut reactions.”
A button press and they were in some kind of ice cave.
“Formerly owned by Winter Lord, I hear it’s lovely in the summer. Air conditioned.”
“Nope. Too cold,” Omi shivered despite the hologram.
“He’s a menace with the thermostat,” Cron grumbled.
They moved on. In a moment they were surrounded by lava.
“Formerly owned by The Torch, this magma cave doesn’t require any central heating. And, it has built in security, intruders falling into lava,” Cosmo offered.
“I can’t work out in heat,” Cron dismissed.
“Hero City must have interesting geology to have ice caves and lava,” Omi added. “Also, I’m pretty sure we’d melt.”
“Next.”
They were in a not massive empty room. The ceiling was slanted on either side, so they were in a roof.
“A loft residence in the warehouse district? Incredibly low rent and a scenic view?” Cosmo gestured to a skylight.
“It’s very… open plan,” Omi said politically.
“I don’t see a light? Does it even get electricity?”
“It’s a fixer upper,” the realtor smiled.
He moved on.
Next, they were surrounded by crystals. Everywhere.
“Oooh, a crystal fortress. I’ve heard of these,” said Cron.
“Yeah, but can you imagine the cost,” Omi countered. “We can’t afford something like this. And this can’t be in the city. Imagine the commute!”
Cosmo pressed on. They were now in a house.
“Secret lab behind a bookcase in a suburban home?” he offered.
“Would we own the house?” Cron asked.
“No.”
“Next.”
They were suddenly surrounded by dizzying lights and colours. If they looked closely, they could see glass walls beyond.
“A pocket dimension inside a glass bottle?”
“No,” Omi said, trying not to throw up from the lights.
“What happens if you take the bottle inside the pocket dimension inside the bottle?” Cron asked curiously.
“Just don’t,” Cosmo warned. “Just don’t.”
The image changed.
“Cave full of bats?”
Cron and Omi just stared at him.
“…No,” Cron said obviously.
“Oh my god, so much guano,” Omi retched.
“Moving on.”
Cosmo pressed buttons. They appeared in a cavernous chamber with metal walls and water running into a large vat. A walkway ran around the middle, ladders stretching between levels. The three of them stood, overlooking everything.
“Is this a sewer?” Cron blurted.
“Hear me out. I assure you it’s as clean as can be imagined,” Cosmo intercepted. “Located near midtown with access across the city via abandoned, unused sewer tunnels, all tunnels put in by me, that don’t connect to anything else.”
As if in argument, a boot floated past into the water tank.
“-Though public works might change that,” Cosmo admitted. “Vast space, easily customisable. Not a luxury apartment, but bedrooms and other living facilities can be installed. And, once your technology has been retrieved, you’ll never want for cooling systems again.”
The water bubbled pointedly as gas escaped somewhere.
“No, Mr Derringer,” Cron said flatly, “you can talk it up all you want, but this is a sewer. We might not be able to smell it in this hologram, but I can imagine it. I can imagine it vividly.”
“Yeah. Sorry,” Omi agreed. “And now you’re two in a row on shit smells.”
“Okay, okay,” Cosmo laughed. “I’m not surprised. We’ve held onto this one for quite a while already. It’s a difficult sell-”
“I couldn’t guess why.”
“-but next, I have something I think you’ll really like.”
“So you were showing us stuff you knew we wouldn’t like?” Cron noted.
“Well, I’ve got to try and sell the duds,” Cosmo shrugged.
The image changed and they found themselves in a wide open space with a long, straight road running down the middle. The roof was bowed like a modular military building, all grey and simple, and with no furniture. There was just a large hanger door at one end and a small door at the other.
“While perhaps not our most beautiful property, this should be perfect for your needs. An old abandoned airfield, underground, located downtown, it was buried generations ago, the city built on top of it. Secret entrances in three locations, all activated by remote control, with full bed and bath facilities in the back. It was originally a secret testing facility, but personally I can see it as a lab, a training dojo, and perhaps even a lounge area. A truly customisable space. It’s certainly spacious enough to accommodate any and all needs. And, the best part, there’s room for expansion, if you ever decide to invest in larger vehicles.”
Cosmo held out his arms to emphasise the space. His voice echoed as if they were really there, not in a small room in Cosmo Tower.
Omi and Cron looked around, their minds whirring. They could see it. Cron could imagine a dojo, dummies in one corner, maybe a garage for their bikes. Omi could envision a lab with all his equipment, and, importantly, a large seating area where they could relax. Maybe even bring the boyfriends round. They both turned to each other, communicating with eyes alone what they thought.
“It’s perfect,” they said in complete unison.
“I knew you’d like it,” Cosmo smiled broadly.
“Can the hologram show us the bedrooms?”
“Of course.” Cosmo pressed a couple of buttons.
Like they were on a conveyer belt, they moved across the room and ghosted through the door. The bunks were standard military fare, but there were two rooms, each quite large and each with their own on-suite bathroom, obviously retrofitted for display.
“What do you think?” Cosmo asked.
“Certainly could use a lick of paint, but I’m not complaining,” Cron said, already planning how to decorate his room. “And the feng shui is on point!”
Omi rolled his eyes. “I love it too,” he said.
They shared one last look. “We’ll take it,” they said in perfect harmony.
“Alright then,” Cosmo beamed. He pressed buttons and the hologram dissolved back into the little black chamber. Cosmo guided them back to the lift. “I know you two are enthusiastic, but let’s not settle until we’ve discussed price. I recommend we go to my office for that.”
“Of course, of course,” Omi agreed, coming back to reality a little. He’d been imagining how to tile the bathrooms.
The trio returned to the lift, swept back up the building, and stepped out into Cosmo’s penthouse office. It was a single massive room with windows on three sides, though they were all one way glass. A red carpet led from the elevators up to Cosmo’s desk, made from more mahogany, with golden detailing and Cosmo’s C.D. logo across the front. Cosmo glided across the room to his desktop, hitting an intercom button.
“Nancy, could you send up the contracts for Property 619?” he asked politely.
“Yes, Mr Derringer,” the voice of the computer terminals downstairs replied.
“You call your computer Nancy?” Cron wondered.
“It’s simpler than some clever acronym,” Cosmo sighed.
“And this is all secure?” worried Omi.
“Trust me, gentlemen, nothing could be more so. All files are stored in a secure lockbox. No employees are even aware it exists. I alone can access it, and even then only through Nancy. They are for my eyes only and purely for record keeping.”
“We can only hope,” Cron doubted.
A slot opened and a metal box emerged, popping like toast. Omi jumped at the suddenness. Cosmo took it, opened it, and looked at the file.
“Here we go. We can work out mortgage rates later, but the overall price should be this.” He scribbled down a number on a bit of paper. The heroes looked at it and their eyes went wide.
“Seriously?” Omi said.
“And this is with the discount?” Cron gasped in shock.
“Oh, apologies,” Cosmo said hurriedly, and took the paper. He crossed out a zero. Omi and Cron’s eyes went wider.
“But it’s so low?” Cron said, slightly alarmed.
“Even without the discount, that’s well within our price range,” Omi added. “What’s the catch? There has to be a catch,” he rambled, his joy punctured by sudden paranoia.
“Other than maybe a little mould damage in the rafters, there isn’t one,” Cosmo answered.
“But… why?” Cron said, struggling to form words.
“Why what?”
“Why sell us something like this? Why sell super lairs at all? Why do this sort of thing?”
Cosmo stopped and thought for a moment. He put his hands together, steepling his fingers, considering his answer. Finally, with a readying nod, he responded.
“I sell and buy secret lairs for the same reason many people let me continue. My work instils a little order into what was a chaotic business. Villains who find a hiding place, set up shop, and then six months later another villain finds the same place and a turf war breaks out. Heroes getting into arguments over who owned which clock tower. It was madness. I provide management to it all. Less overlap. Less conflict. And, I get to make a tidy profit. It’s as simple as that.”
“Huh,” Cron thought for a moment. “I guess it is,” he accepted.
“Now, I have the contract right here, if you’d like to sign,” Cosmo returned to his beaming salesman nature. “We can discuss payment later. I’d recommend signing with your civilian names. The address isn’t specifically listed so there’ll be nothing to connect you. The contracts are mostly boiler plate anyway, but do feel free to read them.”
“And when do we gain access to the hideout?” Omi queried.
“As soon as the contracts are signed. Failure to pay will result in repossession, of course, but there’s no dangers to your identities either way, even if you stiff me. I know Cron here was thinking it,” he smiled.
“Can’t say I wasn’t.”
Cosmo produced the contracts, which were promptly signed. He then handed over another box, this one containing two devices that looked like garage door openers.
“Here are your keys.” Cosmo handed them over. “They’ll open the doors to your lair in a radius of 50 feet. And this will lead you to the lair’s location.” He handed over a GPS.
“Thank you, Mr Derringer,” Omi said, almost in disbelief.
“It really is appreciated,” Cron agreed, polite as a stone.
“Think nothing of it, gentlemen. It’s only business,” Cosmo smiled like a wolf. “Now, if that will be all, I’ll bid you a good day.”
“Thanks again, Mr Derringer,” Cron repeated, shaking his hand, and then both him and Omi headed for the lift.
Outside the building, Steve and Li walked back across the plaza.
“Wow,” Cron said in disbelief. “Who’d have thought it?”
“Yeah,” Omi agreed as they headed home. “Something so rare and amazing in our city?”
Cron quirked an eyebrow. “What? A man who sells super lairs?”
Omi shook his head. “No. An honest real-estate agent.”
* * *
A couple of days later, Omi and Cron headed to the coordinates in full hero gear. The door opener opened a secret entrance beside a disused garage, revealing a long sloping tunnel down. They descended, riding their bikes in.
The hangar was just as it was in the hologram. Large, grey, but now with added mustiness. Derringer hadn’t lied about the mould, but it was nothing they couldn’t fix.
What they hadn’t expected was their stuff to already be there.
Computer banks from The Bunker, a large screen already installed into a wall, the platform for their bikes positioned in a corner. Training dummies, lab equipment, small bits of memorabilia. Even the sofas and chairs had been installed. It was all there, right in the places Omi and Cron would have put them.
“Blimey, he works fast,” Cron said in shock.
“How did he even move all this stuff?” Omi wondered.
“Well, Nancy did most of it,” Cosmo answered behind them.
“AHH!” Omi and Cron almost jumped out of their skins. Cron raised fists while Omi held a screwdriver, ready to throw.
Cosmo laughed. “Apologies, gentlemen, I just wanted to stop by and drop off your contracts. I still have the code for your door openers, so I let myself in. But feel free to change those codes,” he said casually, producing two contracts.
“Will do,” Omi affirmed nervously, putting the screwdriver down and taking his contract.
“Also, very nice outfits,” Cosmo continued, admiring their suits. “I’ve never seen them up close before. The red, blue and silver works well. Striking. I especially love the jewels on your foreheads. I suppose those are the source of your powers?” he guessed.
“Yep, they are,” Cron confirmed.
“And how did you come about such a find?”
“Hand of Fate,” they answered in unison.
“Ah. That one,” Cosmo understood. “From my understanding, he’s responsible for a lot of my business.”
“Have you done business with him yourself?”
“Cron, you know I can’t answer that,” Cosmo reprimanded playfully.
“Thought I’d take a chance,” he shrugged.
“Mr Derringer,” Omi raised his voice. “How did you get all our stuff here? Most of it was buried,” he asked.
“As I said, Nancy did it. Our science division has a few drones for her to pilot. I use them for more clandestine arrangements, to avoid alerting my workers. It was quite the excavation though.” He nodded at some of the consoles, which were still strewn with rock dust.
“We didn’t even tell you where it was…” Omi whispered.
“Thank you so much, Mr Derringer,” Cron said brashly, slapping Cosmo on the back.
“It’s quite alright,” Cosmo said, trying not to get winded.
The conversation was interrupted as a computer sparked to life, a siren blaring.
“Huh. You installed that too,” Omi considered, heading over.
“THREAT DETECTED. ANNIHILATOR AT LARGE,” the computer announced.
“Well, looks like it’s time for some payback,” Cron grinned, cracking his knuckles.
“Then I’ll leave you boys to it,” Cosmo dismissed himself. “I’ll see you around.”
“Thanks, Mr Derringer,” Cron said again, but by the time either of them looked, Cosmo was gone.
“How does he do that?” Omi wondered.
“Doesn’t matter. We’ve got a rust bucket to break.”
* * *
A couple of hours later, Annihilator was lying in the rubble of a collapsed warehouse in the middle of the warehouse district. Pursued by Omi and Cron, he’d made the significant miscalculation of luring them back to his own secret lair. The pair had taken considerable pleasure collapsing the warehouse around him.
Now, he lay in the rubble, and activated the communicator in his head.
“Cosmo Derringer’s office. How may I direct your call?” chirped the receptionist.
“DISCREET HOUSING INITIATIVE PLEASE,” Annihilator whirred.
“Putting you through now, sir.”
There was a moment of hold music before the phone clicked back in.
“This is Cosmo. Who’s calling?”
“ANNIHILATOR.”
“Oh, hello there,” Cosmo buzzed. “Long time no see, big guy. What can I do you for?”
“I REQUIRE A NEW LAIR. MY PREVIOUS ONE WAS DAMAGED.”
“Completely destroyed, huh?” Cosmo said sympathetically. “Alright, big fella. I’ve got a free slot on Thursday if you can meet me at the Villain’s Bureau. Avoids you turning up at the tower.”
“AFFIRMATIVE. SEE YOU THEN.”
Annihilator hung up. He groaned amongst the rubble. He hated house hunting.
* * *
Cosmo hung up his phone and returned to his desk.
“Nancy? Do I have any other meetings today?”
“No, Mr Derringer,” the computer answered.
“And my first meeting tomorrow?”
“You have a meeting with Mr Intellitron concerning his new lair. Volcanic island resort.”
“Ah, yes. Teething problems I assume. Order a bottle of wine, would you? I need to thank him for that submarine. It will pay dividends when it finally sells.”
“Confirmed.”
“After that, can you give me some privacy? I’ll push the button if I need you.”
“Confirmed.”
A small blue light in the ceiling switched off.
Cosmo walked up to the window and stared down at the city below. Blank faced, his eyes locked onto a small collection of buildings. A set he knew had an abandoned airfield beneath them.
He smiled.
“It’s always fascinating to see what people do with what I’ve given them,” he said, looking out over the skyline. “Here’s to you, Hero City.”
And he raised a glass of brandy, staring out over his world.