Chapter 284 Destroy.

Chapter 284: 284 Destroy.

The Uranium Walrus paused mid-swell. "We’re not?" he asked, his voice dropping from a deafening roar down to a muffled, confused rumble.

"You are," I assured him. "But that’s not the important metric. The most vital part of being in this league is that you know exactly how to take direction, and you know exactly when to hold back."

"So, we aren’t actually aiming to completely trash the heroes?" Devil’s Details asked, lowering his spiked axe-guitar.

"Not entirely, no," I said. "Our literal job is to lose, but we do it in a highly specific way that makes the hero look absolutely fantastic on camera. It’s a tricky needle to thread, and that means we operate under some very strict restrictions. Which makes this a perfect time to review the corporate rules."

I tapped a command on my tablet. A holographic field buzzed to life above the screen, filling in with glowing, floating text.

"Rule one," I said, making sure to firmly meet the eyes of each applicant. "Always wear a mask. This is mainly for your own protection, but it’s also just good business. Keep a hard, impenetrable barrier between your professional persona and your everyday civilian life. Trust me on this. You will absolutely need it.

"Rule two: Never hurt the civilians. Ever. You are here to put on a show, and the only reason the authorities let us do the things we do is because we aren’t actively killing bystanders. The exact second you start racking up collateral body counts, the heroes have every legal and moral reason to put you in the ground. It is absolute career suicide."

"Makes perfect sense," Finnegan Wake noted, politely tipping his straw hat.

"Damn right. Now, this next one has a tiny bit of flexibility, but rule three: Never kill the heroes you are paid to fight." I held up a hand to stall the immediate confused looks. "Let me be crystal clear, there is some wiggle room on this one, but not much. You only cross that line if it is strictly them or you. If a hero actively breaks the industry rules and comes after you for real, and you absolutely have to put them down to survive—do it. Ideally in a blind spot where no one can film it. Because if you murder a registered hero and the public finds out, your career is completely over. Unless there were glaring extenuating circumstances, you are going straight to a black site prison. Our job is to make sure the evil plot is dramatically foiled and everyone walks away looking good. But your actual life always takes priority. Got it?"

"Weeee unnnnderstaaaand," Nightshade whispered, her voice echoing like a cold wind shifting through dry autumn leaves.

I nodded. "Good. And rule four—possibly the absolute most important rule in this entire league—is that the bad guy always loses. We are showing up to get beat. Our diabolical scheme is thwarted.

"Our massive lair gets blown up while we dramatically escape in a pod. That is the vital core of this business. You put up a spectacular, terrifying fight, absolutely.

"But in the end, evil is defeated. Engrave that in your mind. Once you have that dynamic memorized, everything else falls into place. Questions?"

Devil’s Details raised a clawed hand. "Uh, yeah. I got one. Didn’t you just violently win against the Bureau?"

A low murmur of agreement rippled through the gathered villains.

I sighed internally. I knew that specific piece of my resume was going to come up sooner or later. "I did," I admitted. "But that wasn’t professional villainy. That was... something else entirely. A private matter."

"Seemed pretty damn public," Devil said admiringly.

"It was, but there was no choice. Someone actively came after one of my employees, and I went to get her back. And let me be perfectly clear," I added, hardening my tone. "If you work for my league, and someone tries that kind of fuckery on you, I will have your back. As long as you didn’t start the fight by breaking the rules, I will do absolutely everything in my power to make sure you aren’t being targeted by heroes or rival villains. Understood?"

"Very," Devil said, gripping his guitar neck.

"THE URANIUM WALRUS HIGHLY APPROVES OF THESE TERMS!" the Walrus bellowed.

"Great," I said. "But keep in mind, I will only go to bat for you if you strictly obey the guidelines. Break them, and you are entirely on your own. If you blow up a civilian orphanage, I am absolutely not coming to save your ass. Alright, good talk. Now, it’s time to see exactly what you four can do. Glacia?"

"Sir?" Glacia said, snapping to rigid attention.

"Give us some targets on the lawn."

"Yes, sir!" Glacia said. She turned sharply, raising a graceful hand.

I watched with genuine admiration as rays of blistering, absolute-zero cold blasted across the manicured grass, rapidly freezing the moisture in the air to form several vaguely humanoid figures out of dense, glittering ice.

I nodded in deep satisfaction. It looked like all that obsessive practice with my frozen statues was seriously paying off.

"Great work. Now," I said, turning back to the quartet. "Here’s how this works. Each of you is going to step up and show me exactly what your powers can do. But keep it reasonable!" I added quickly. "I do not want another Chernobyl incident in my backyard."

"I HIGHLY RESENT THAT INSINUATION!" the Walrus barked, the PVC tusks on his gas mask shaking.

"Just don’t completely irradiate the topsoil," I said. "You can go first."

"OUTSTANDING!" the Walrus cheered, strutting heavily forward. "PREPARE YOUR JAWS FOR IMMINENT DROPPING!"

I took a cautious step backward, briefly wondering if I should have asked Rhea to fabricate some lead vests before we got started. But it was a bit late for that now.

Besides, if he couldn’t actively keep his ambient radiation below acceptable lethal thresholds, he wouldn’t make a decent, hirable villain anyway.

"Let’s try to keep the output around heavy microwave oven levels for this demonstration," I advised, tapping my tablet to bring up the geiger counter feed. "We don’t want the camera crews to start losing their hair every time you take a job. Feel free to make it as visually flashy as possible, though. The flashier, the better, actually. Think you can handle that?"

"OF COURSE!" the Walrus cried out. "NOTHING IS BEYOND THE MIGHTY SKILL OF THE URANIUM WALRUS!"

"Fantastic. Show us what you got, big guy," I said, keeping a very close eye on the clicking counter on my screen.

I had high hopes for the Walrus. Massive, durable tanks were always in incredibly high demand in this business. It looked phenomenal on camera to beat them, and the visual payoff was incredibly satisfying.

True, there was never a lack of meatheads who thought they were the biggest, baddest sons of bitches on the block. But finding a massive tank who knew exactly how tough he looked, but could still professionally take a staged beatdown without sulking or throwing a violent tantrum? That was worth its weight in solid gold.

And considering that if the Walrus did throw a tantrum, it might require the immediate emergency evacuation of several square miles, I wanted a damn good read on his behavioral character before I ever sent him out against a live hero.

I watched closely as the big bruiser took up a wide, heavy stance a fair distance from the ice targets. Haaah... Running a league was a lot of administrative work.

The Uranium Walrus took a massive, rattling breath through his gas mask filters, then thrust a heavy yellow glove out toward the ice sculptures.

"HEROES!" he bellowed. "DO YOU TRULY THINK YOU CAN STAND IN THE PATH OF THE URANIUM WALRUS? HAHA! I LAUGH AT YOUR FEEBLE, FLESHY EFFORTS! FOR EVER SINCE I WAS CRUSHED BENEATH THE WEIGHT OF AN IRRADIATED PINNIPED, I HAVE POSSESSED ALL THE UNSTOPPABLE MIGHT OF THE WALRUS, AND THE TERRIFYING POWER OF AN ATOMIC BOMB! NOW, BEHOLD MY GLOWING POWAAAAH!"

Nice. Very nice. Phenomenal theatrical aplomb, for sure. The guy had an almost instinctive, operatic grasp of the classic villainous monologue.

The Walrus thrust his arm out. He opened his palm, and a sickening, bright greenish glow pulsed violently into existence around his glove.

With a heavy, echoing sound exactly like a furious, roaring bull walrus, a massive blast of raw, irradiated kinetic energy slammed into one of the ice sculptures. It instantly shattered the target, flash-melting the icy shards into steam even as they spun away through the air.

Not bad at all. I quickly checked the geiger counter on the tablet. The numbers hadn’t spiked dangerously high, either. It was roughly the exact same ambient dosage I’d get from holding my cell phone to my ear for twenty minutes. Good. Excellent control.

But here was the real, practical test.

"Alright, very nice," I said smoothly. "Now, I want you to blast that second target over there. But whatever you do, do not actually break the ice."

"I WILL UTTERLY DESTROY... excuse me?"