Chapter 140 Meeting.

Chapter 140: 140 Meeting.

As we walked out of the Hall of Heroes, I felt the combined gaze of five S-list capes drilling into my spine. No one made a move to stop us, though. Small mercies, at any rate.

Still, my shoulders didn’t finally drop from my ears until we were back in my Crown, safely merged onto the highway, and well outside the city limits, heading straight for the mountains that bordered Metropolis.

It was a comfortably long drive. The air in the car was absolutely frigid, cooled by Glacia’s intense, simmering agitation.

The icy flush hadn’t left her pale cheeks since I’d pinned The Penetrator into the dirt, and the way she kept stealing glances at me from the passenger seat made my own blood run a little warm.

It gave me a very compelling, highly biological reason to get back to the lair as quickly as the speed limit allowed.

We soon reached the imposing iron gates of the Sunset Oakland estate. A massive chalet buried deep in the mountains, surrounded by treacherous cliffs and dense forest, it naturally sported the menacing air of a Bond villain’s classy winter retreat.

Sweeping gables, an adjoining ballroom, copious stone pillars, and even some lurking gargoyles—the whole building radiated a deep, imposing aura. And for good reason.

I know I’m obsessing over the real estate again, but it was for good measure. After the catastrophic fight with Delirium, his mutant frogs, and my impromptu junk-mech, the house had been left in absolute shambles. Again.

And sure, it wasn’t entirely my fault this time, but even with Rhea and her surviving bots handling the heavy lifting, repairs required materials, and materials cost money.

I physically winced as I thought about the sheer number of zeroes on the contractor’s cheque I’d paid. But it was going to be worth it. I owned the property. I was in total control.

As my front bumper approached the gate, the speaker embedded in one of the twin stone pillars crackled to life with a burst of static.

"Halt! Identify yourself or face immediate liquidation before the unyielding gates of the Iron Citadel!"

I sighed, resting my forehead against the steering wheel. "I’m not calling the chalet that, Rhea."

The mad scientist giggled through the comm system, not even the scratchy feedback of the old electronics able to suppress the impish, manic teasing in her tone. "Aw, well. It sounds cool, though!"

The heavy iron gates swung inward immediately after. They eased open perfectly without the slightest metallic creak. Beyond them, the sprawling lawn was miraculously back to its healthy green, and the acrid, toxic smell of whatever the hell had been pumping through Delirium’s mutating veins was finally gone.

I pulled up past the repaired stone fountain and put the car in park. I got out, Glacia following me at once.

No sooner had the car doors clicked shut than she softly cleared her throat.

"Sir?" she said, her posture rigidly perfect, though she couldn’t quite meet my eyes.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering... considering the overwhelming success of my first solo mission today, and, ah... in light of your valiant fight for my honor in the federal facility... if... ah... I was hoping perhaps a performance reward might be... well..."

I raised a brow, crossing my arms and pretending not to know exactly what she was awkwardly trying to requisition. "A reward? What are you thinking?"

"I think she wants you to fuck her, boss."

Glacia flushed a brilliant, furious scarlet. I looked toward the heavy double doors of the chalet, where Psyren had just made her appearance.

The psychic was smirking at us, her slim figure pressed lazily against the mahogany doorframe, a pose that did absolute wonders to show herself off. She was dressed in a tight black tank top and faded, distressed jeans that hugged her hips.

She always had that dangerous, teasing air about her. A psychotic pixie flightiness that strongly suggested she might kiss you or stab you with the exact same gleeful expression on her face.

She was also holding a heavy chain leash attached to something I’d deeply hoped to see a lot less of.

Looking like a grotesque cross between a monstrous toad and a rusty buzzsaw, Nibbles panted happily at her feet. The horrific monster revealed rows of jagged, flesh-tearing teeth as he looked up at Psyren adoringly.

He was one of Delirium’s monstrosities—a throgg—that Psyren had formally adopted, using her psychic dominance to keep the apex predator as a house pet.

It actively bothered me how seamlessly the horrific mutant fit her general punk-rock aesthetic. But at least she’d supposedly trained it to go to the bathroom outside, though the scorched, sizzling black patches of acid spit on my newly sodded lawn were getting really fucking annoying.

"I... ah..." Glacia stammered, her aristocratic composure completely shattering.

"Which totally sucks," Psyren sighed dramatically, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering down the steps toward us. Her hand glided casually along my arm as she prowled around me like a shark checking out the dinner menu. "Because I definitely wanted a bit of fun first. But I suppose I can let you go this time, bossman," she added with a teasing flutter of her eyelashes, neon pink hearts literally thrumming deep within her glowing irises. "After all, you’ll be stopping by to see me soon too. Right?"

"What did you do today that deserves a reward?" I asked dryly.

"What?" she gasped with a wildly exaggerated pout. "You mean being this cute and this lovable isn’t enough? Fine. Maybe I should go into the city and hunt down some of your enemies. Hm? Turn them into your obedient, drooling, brainwashed slaves? Would that earn me some loving from my evil master?"

"Maybe let’s hold off on the war crimes just for now," I said, shivering slightly as her slender fingers slid tracing a line across my shoulder blades. Dammit, she knew exactly how to push my buttons. "I think Glacia and I should have a little... chat about today’s events first."

"Yeah, sure. Just a polite, professional conversation," Psyren said with a knowing, wicked smirk. "Well, don’t let me keep you two. Come on, Nibbles. Let’s go find a squirrel to traumatize."

"Rooooark!" the monster panted, hopping happily after her as she sauntered away with an incredibly deliberate swing of her hips.

My eyes lingered on the display for a moment, but not for long. Though Psyren was as dangerously attractive as always, I had someone else directly in front of me right now. I turned back to Glacia, whose pink lips were pursed tight in aristocratic annoyance at the interruption.

Well, couldn’t have that. Corporate morale was important.

I stepped fully into her personal space, sliding my arm around her waist, resting my hand heavily on her hip, and tugging her flush against me.

"Come on," I said, letting my voice drop low. Husky. "Time for a thorough... debriefing."

Glacia gasped softly, licking her lips in sudden anticipation. "Yes. Yes, of course, sir," she murmured, her rigid posture finally melting entirely against my chest.

I chuckled, reaching up to touch her chin. I tilted her face up and leaned down to kiss her.

I felt Glacia shiver the second our lips met, a soft, breathy moan rising out of her throat. The ambient temperature around us immediately plummeted, a dusting of frost instantly forming on my jacket shoulders.

There we go.

I hated seeing the girls bicker, and keeping the team unified was vital to running a successful organization. Time to build a little more morale.

Keeping my hand squeezed tight on her hip, I walked her into the chalet and through the expansive, newly repaired foyer.

We headed up the grand staircase, down the long, carpeted hall, and straight to the master bedroom.

My hands were already quite busy admiring the curve of Glacia’s waist, so I just used a subtle pulse of my magnetic powers to turn the brass handle and pull the heavy door open.

My room was depressingly utilitarian, which wasn’t exactly surprising. I’d spent my entire adult life keeping the things I owned down to the absolute bare minimum.

It was a survival habit. When you’re a blue-collar supervillain, you inevitably have to pack up and move fast because some rogue streeter or A-list cape just blew a hole through your living room wall trying to arrest you.

I’d lost too many flat-screen TVs and nice couches to superhero landings over the years to bother decorating anymore.

It was a habit I still hadn’t shaken, leaving my massive new master bedroom with little more than a king-sized mattress, a bedside table, and a wooden dresser.

But as Glacia pulled me down by my collar, her icy breath ghosting across my neck, I figured the bed was all I was going to need.