Chapter 2

The corporate officewasn't nearly as cozy as the one at Revelations. I hated to admit it, but I missed managing the magazine. It had been the voice of reason in a city dependent on heroes. Instead of showering them with praise and holding them up like gods, we held them to a higher standard. For those who didn't meet the bar, we made sure the public recognized their shortcomings. It had been satisfying, but it hadn't been enough to hold back the scourge.

I pressed the intercom on my desk. "Geoff, coffee, black."

"My name is Jonathan."

I ignored his complaining. There was little for me to do at headquarters. Unable to stand in front of Vex Industries, I was left to sit at my desk and examine company initiatives and newly acquired businesses. The stock reports continued to show growth, but if I were standing in front of them leading, we'd easily double our profit margins. The board was good at their jobs, but I was better.

My office door cracked open, Geoff timidly poking his head inside. I made him nervous. Not coming into the office regularly meant they supplied me with whatever interns were available. The first had been Geoff… I think. Since then, regardless of gender or race, they became Geoff, variations of the original.

As the slender man approached my desk, his eyes remained fixed on the trembling cup of coffee. This Geoff wouldn't last the week. In the corporate world, there were only two types of people. Predators viewed everything as a conquest and left nothing in their way as they worked toward their goals. Prey, on the other hand, hid in plain sight but were the first casualties.

"Do you like your job?"

He froze. It might very well be the first time I asked him for his input. The fact he didn't have an answer readily available said everything.

"Walk into every room as if you belong."

"But—"

"Answer, and do it with conviction. Practice until you believe it."

He set the coffee down. When he stood, he straightened his back, lifting his shoulders. Unlike the others, this Geoff seemed coachable. That boded well for his future at Vex Industries.

"Let's try this again." I reached for the coffee, taking a sip. Dark. Hot. Utter perfection. "Do you like your job?"

"I'll prefer it when I control the board and exile you from your company."

Coffee went down the wrong pipe. Coughing, I set the cup down. He spoke as if he had been repeating the reply in his head since birth. I should fire him for the audacity. Over the years I found that the most dangerous people were the ambitious. Keeping them close kept me on my toes.

"Then let's make sure you get the opportunity."

His eyes went wide. He expected me to fire him, to send him packing for his insolence. The young man reminded me of myself at that age, determined and full of potential. Perhaps we'd make a predator out of this one.

"That'll be all, Geoff." I made the smile stretch across my face. If this tiny upstart thought it'd be a walk in the park, he had another thing coming.

He turned. Walking away, I could hear him mutter "Asshole" under his breath. Poor Geoff would need to learn to grow a thicker skin if he was going to be my star employee.

I turned around, standing from the chair to stare out the window. From this height Vanguard appeared insignificant, hardly worth mentioning. The only other high rise belonged to Stephen Hurdler, a man I spent years attempting to crush. As a businessman, he rivaled my cunning. As the Machinist, however, I had never had the pleasure of testing the might of his mechanical toys. In due time.

The door to the office opened, and Geoff strode toward the desk. I imagined he had a letter opener in his hand as he prepared for a failed assassination attempt. The first of many, of course. I caught the reflection in the window, and I was disappointed my temporary assistant hadn't warned me about a guest. The chances of a successful assassination rose exponentially.

"Damien."

"Carmen."

No bigger than ants, I continued admiring the hustle of Vanguardians moving through the streets. Leaving my back exposed to one of the most powerful women in the world sent a clear message. If Carmen LaToya, director of the Centurions, wanted me dead, she'd have come with her powered henchmen. I was nothing more than a criminal on release from Cold Iron, and with a single word, they'd come crashing through the windows to put me away.

The fact she didn't have them by her side suggested she wanted to keep the exchange a secret. More than that, she released Diesel, Clint, and me, three men who were the antithesis of her band of do-gooders. I had yet to put the pieces of the puzzle together, but I knew she needed us more than we needed her.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Always."

I turned about. Her coral-colored suit was anything but discreet. She kept it buttoned, the top emphasizing her breasts. She had expertly wielded her femininity, a distraction from what lay beneath. I couldn't see the bulge of a holster, but it didn't make her any less dangerous. Even in heels, I suspected she'd be able to hold her own in a physical confrontation.

Everything about Carmen LaToya pointed to beautiful, but that was part of the ruse, wasn't it? Onlookers saw a stunning woman, and before they knew it, they'd have a knife pressed against their jugular. Instead, I focused on the brown eyes almost hidden by curls of dark hair.

"It's about time, Carmen. I wondered when you'd use your most valuable asset."

"Most arrogant, perhaps."

"Still bitter that I tried to kill you?"

Even the slight chuckle came out calculated. "You're not the first. You won't be the last."

The repartee back and forth were like boxers throwing jabs, testing the opponent's defenses. For some, I'd unleash a salvo that'd leave a crater. With a sparring partner like Carmen, strength alone wouldn't win the fight. She most likely planned for a thousand outcomes, a contingency plan for each variable.

"Shall we then?"

I gestured to the seating area on the side of the room. Taking my coffee, I walked toward a leather chair. I took every opportunity to present my back, a subtle acknowledgment that I didn't fear her. She, however, made sure I never positioned myself anywhere but front and center. Smart woman.

Carmen unbuttoned her jacket as she sat opposite me. Still no weapon in sight.

"It must be killing you to work in the shadows."

"When I receive your pardon, and this is behind me, it'll be business as normal."

She didn't respond.

"You sent Diesel on a mission to kill a local drug lord, and Clint to put an end to a scientist on a remote island. I find your motives curious."

The truth, I had a firm grasp on her motives. Diesel's target had been producing Lux, a drug that gave humans temporary powers. If not for the high mortality rate, I'd have investigated the potential. Clint, on the other hand, she wanted him to seize a serum that gave him his powers. This one had stayed on my radar, though I'd prefer something with a bit more flare. I understood Carmen's actions because they weren't so different from my own. We both sought power, but her reasoning eluded me.

"My motives are not part of this arrangement."

"Even between old friends?"

Her face gave away nothing. It wasn't often I sat across from somebody I once tried to kill. More often than not, they found themselves six feet under. Carmen LaToya wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Is this a smash and grab? Need me to kill somebody?"

She laughed. Unlike before, it was genuine, coming from the woman's belly. "Damien, is your ego really that large? You're powerless. You'd break a sweat arm wrestling my abuela."

Powerless. Carmen had launched her attack, a missile to decimate my ego. I fought to keep my composure. The only way to win would be to brush aside the insult, no matter how accurate. Doc had not stated it openly, but Carmen held no reservations. She wanted to make it clear that she held all the cards.

"Then what do you need of me?" I couldn't hide the growl in my words.

"You're hosting a charity gala. I'll assume my invite was lost in the mail. A guest on your list is in search of a buyer for some particular stolen merchandise, and I believe they'll be approaching you."

"You want me for my money? How uncouth."

She stood, buttoning her jacket and straightening the sleeves. "Whatever he asks, you pay. I want that package, and unlike your colleagues, I won't be giving you a second chance."

The threat didn't come with a flashy statement of what would come next. The chances of me returning to Cold Iron were slim. Carmen wouldn't let me walk away with my life. Anybody else, I'd laugh, but she might very well have the assets at her disposal to make it happen.

"What am I buying on your behalf?"

If Carmen saw me as a threat, she'd conceal the contents. She'd throw out garbage about not needing to know. On the other hand, unlike the others, she may trust that my scruples were more flexible. Without knowing the price tag, I did not know what plans she hid away in the back of the fortress she called a mind.

"It's the last of Malignant's serum."

She didn't say another word as she walked from my office. I remained sitting, savoring my coffee. Carmen was up to no good. I believed it since she offered me the man who tried to destroy her legacy, his freedom. Whatever game she played, she made a fool's mistake in believing me harmless. Powers or not, Damien Vex wasn't a man to ignore.

"Dear Carmen, what mischief are you up to?"

* * *

The gala brought together the wealthiest and most powerful of Vanguard's elite society. It wasn't the low-profile Carmen demanded, but then again, most of those in attendance were criminals who excelled at evading the law. Already, the rumors behind my lack of incarceration ran rampant. My favorite so far has been buying Cold Iron or sleeping with the warden. At least one of those was true.

The seventeenth floor of Vex Industries was nothing more than a large empty floor used for hosting events such as this. The gala served as a charity event, bringing in money for our more philanthropic endeavors. It allowed the attendees to buy goodwill and offset their bad karma. I'd be disappointed if we raised less than a million dollars for the Boys and Girls Club.

The event planner opted for a 1920s theme, turning the space into a speakeasy. A jazz band performed on stage while patrons performed their best swing dancing. The far wall had whisky barrels turned upright for tables, while the bar had a dozen dapper bootleggers pouring drinks. On the other wall, artwork had been hung for the silent auction. It'd be the event of the year, a reminder that I had returned to society to reclaim my throne.

Nearly four hundred people were in attendance. Ninety-nine percent of the invitees had shown. I'd be sure to have Geoff chastise those who declined the offer. Anything short of death would mark them as undesirable and strip them of their status.

"Is everything to your liking, Mr. Vex?"

Stella had served with the company for years, poached from Hurdler. Her flapper attire allowed her to blend into the guests, but the tablet in her hand and earpiece meant she was on the job.

"The lighting over the art, raise by ten percent. Tell the servers not to hover along the dance floor."

She relayed the orders with a tone that left no room for argument. "Guests have already started bidding on the artwork. I'm running financial checks now. But we do have a… situation."

I reached inside my jacket, flattening my vest and smoothing my tie. Typically, I preferred a solid black, but on Stella's recommendation, I opted for a dark blue pinstripe suit. The white tie brought all attention to my face. I'd be sure to include her attention to detail in her review and compensate her accordingly.

"Out with it."

"There's a gentleman here…" Despite her ferocious skills at managing the room, she found me intimidating. I had accomplished my goal. "He's not on the list."

A party crasher? It wasn't uncommon. The president of a small upstart company felt he earned the privilege of playing with the top dogs. We even had spunky locals see the attendees pouring in and decide they'd help themselves to the open bar. But if Stella brought it to my attention, there had to be more to the story than a simple unwanted visitor.

"What aren't you telling me?"

She clutched the tablet as if I might knock it from her hands. I found her nervousness almost flattering. "The facial recognition can't identify him. He might be a vagrant."

"That's a first. Where will I find him?"

She reached up to the earpiece. "Do we have eyes on the target?" Target? Stella would receive a substantial raise for personality alone. "He's by the art auction. Exhibition twenty-three. Do you want me to call security?"

"That won't be necessary. I'll see to it myself."

"Mr. Vex? Are you sure?"

"What's life without a little drama?"

I wandered toward the far wall, curious who not only crashed the party but also found a way to hide themselves from our security cameras. Could this be LaToya's seller? I suppose we could get this transaction done, and I could return to my guests. A server took a bow, offering a glass of whisky, aged exactly one hundred years. I took the drink, offering him a nod as I moved toward the auction space.

Each of these paintings was created by up-and-coming artists in Vanguard. It wasn't hard to find the man. Despite his best efforts to blend into the theme, his outfit appeared purchased off-the-rack. Not even the most daring guest would attempt something this ironic. But I did my due diligence, giving him a once-over from the back. No visible creases of a weapon and no obvious package capable of holding Carmen's serum.

If it were under different circumstances, I might stop and admire the man. He must have pushed three hundred pounds, but he wore it well. His torso reminded me of the whisky barrels, and his suspenders strained to keep his pants around his waist. I bet when I saw his front, his vest would be pulled tight, the buttons straining to contain his girth. If he wasn't crashing my gala, I'd have considered offering him the opportunity to see my penthouse. I bet he'd look even more attractive on all fours impaled on my cock.

Standing next to the man, I stared at the piece hanging on the wall. I knew nothing about art. It was modern, featuring chaotic strokes. It was the work of a genius or a rampant toddler. I knew the people in this room would pay top dollar to say they acquired a piece from an unknown artist.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

He raised an eyebrow as he gave me the once-over. I tried to place the man's face. East Asian. Older, perhaps in his forties. I took pride in knowing the face of every socialite in Vanguard. He didn't make the cut.

"No insult meant, but it's rather ugly."

Korean, first generation. His identity remained a mystery.

"Donguihaeyo."

He chuckled. "But I hope it goes for top dollar."

"Invested interest?"

"Are you asking because you're curious?" He turned to face me. "Or because your state-of-the-art security system hasn't identified me?"

Bold. I couldn't help but smile at the man's awareness. He rode a fine line between being a curiosity and a pest. I wasn't ready to throw him from the gala… yet.

"Consider me curious."

"Damien Vex," he said my name as if it explained my entirety. In Vanguard, I suppose it did. "Corporate demigod and stain on the integrity of Vanguard."

"I see you've read the Beacon's piece on me. Stain is a strong word."

"And yet, you're holding a gala intending to funnel the proceeds toward a Boys and Girls Club in Southland. Of the two of us, I'm the least curious one. Why not fund the club yourself? Unlike your previous events, this one seems legit."

An underhanded compliment. Perhaps he belonged amongst this crowd.

"Are you a reporter?"

"Scared to answer on the record?"

Scared? I refrained from snarling. He tried to goad me into a response, but I wasn't to be bested by a miscreant stumbling in from the street.

"I have a personal tie." It was as much truth as he'd get. "As to why this?" I gestured to the rest of the gala. "It's more satisfying to play Robin Hood and steal money from the rich and redirect it to?—"

"Those in need?"

I nodded. "I can't be a villainous corporate titan all the time."

"Won-Ho."

He offered a hand. I played along, shaking. He didn't flex his strength, but in three simple up-and-down motions, I realized that behind the soft padding, the man was more muscle than not. While my ego rallied against the idea, he could take me in an arm-wrestling competition, my cock found it enticing.

"Damien Vex."

"I know one of the kids you're helping. I wanted to see if your operation is better than your reputation."

"The verdict?"

He smiled. I had gone toe-to-toe with some of the most ferocious executives in the world. Like him, they told half-truths, but I didn't get the feeling he was doing it for his own interests. At any moment, I could have him thrown from the building as if he were nothing more than trash, but he didn't seem concerned. It had been quite some time since somebody recognized me but ignored the might of my reputation.

"I'm still debating."

"I look forward to your assessment of my character."

"It's not nearly as diabolical as you let on."

"I have a room full of guests who would say otherwise."

"An astounding actor, yes. This…" He waved to the gala. "It's nothing more than a stage for your performance."

Was I about to launch into a lecture, demonizing myself? Won-Ho had backed me into a corner with… niceties? I had been prepared to call security and have him ejected, but now I blushed. Had I been bested? My brain struggled to process and pivot.

"I believe a thank you is in order?"

Before he could respond, Stella appeared as if out of thin air. She gave a slight wave, more nervous than normal. I knew the news she was about to share.

"One moment, please." Won-Ho gave me a nod.

I turned to Stella. Her fingers obsessively ran across her plunging pearl necklace. "Your special guest has arrived."

"Good. Inform him to meet me in the conference room."

She nodded and vanished into the crowd.

"I hate to cut this short, but business demands my attention."

He pointed to the next painting, an expressive abstract representing Vanguard. "It'd look good over my mantel."

I couldn't tell if the man jested. His stoic face gave away no hints of humor. He and LaToya must have attended the same class on how to hide their emotions. The inability to read him made him even more alluring. I wanted to study the man and once I had him sorted, I'd add him to the list of men I conquered. The thought of having this large man begging for me to fuck him had a tent forming in my trousers.

"Consider yourself a guest tonight. Until we meet again, Mr…"

"Jung."

"Until then, Mr. Jung."

I'd be calling Geoff tonight and having him research every detail he could find on the mysterious Won-Ho Jung. By morning, I'd want a presentation from his financials to the names of his former lovers. If Geoff valued his job, it'd be a sleepless night.

As I walked away, I adjusted my package. I had just found my next conquest.

* * *

Won-Ho Jung. It wasn't a name I'd easily forget.

I couldn't help but dwell on the enigmatic man as I slipped from the soiree. The moment I passed through the doors, I was transported from the roaring twenties into the modern age. With my high-waisted pants and vest, I looked like a time traveler thrust into the future. In the fluorescent lights of the office, Stella had done me justice with my outfit for the night.

Walking down the hallway, I heard a high-pitch whining from one of the offices. I slowed. Carmen hadn't mentioned any threat from the seller, but I hadn't reached this point in my life without being cautious. With light knuckles on the door, I eased it open, standing out of the way in case the occupant had a weapon.

"Mr. Vex."

In a light gray cleaning jumper, a man fed papers into a shredder on his cart. It had been a while since I stayed late enough to bump into the cleaning crew. During the day, deals were made, emails sent, and papers signed. But when the staff went home, the cleaning crew came in. At Vex Industries, these unseen people made sure that any trace evidence of wrongdoing vanished without a sight. They were as good at wiping hard drives as they were at wiping tables.

"Phillip?" I feared my memory faltered. He stood upright. One bushy eyebrow raised high enough on his face that it nearly met his hairline.

"You know my name?" He sounded surprised, as if I didn't study the name and face of every person under my employment. Every cog that made this machine run deserved my attention. Even the janitor had my respect.

"A daughter in high school, if I remember correctly?"

He let out a sigh. "College now. Time flies. Majoring in computer sciences."

"Lucrative. When she's ready, tell her to come see me."

His back straightened. "She just applied for the environmental division."

"A do-gooder." I flashed a smile. There were plenty of areas within the company that didn't require backroom deals or conversations held in secrecy. Our environmental division helped purify Vanguard's drinking water and held dozens of patents on processes to help combat global warming. Even I had a conscience. It also helped offset our weapons manufacturing and biological warfare division. "I'll have my assistant reach out with her start date."

Philip's jaw hung open. "Mr. Vex…"

"I hate to run, but I have a meeting to attend to."

He nodded quickly. "Thank you."

I continued down the hallway to a closed door. The glass had turned opaque, hiding the seller. I rolled my head, cracking vertebrae. With a quick tug on my vest and the cuffs of my jacket, I was ready to get Carmen her damned serum. It'd be the last time I ran an errand for the cursed woman.

I opened the door. The room was bare except for a table surrounded by chairs. In security mode, the cameras in the corner had gone dark. It made the man in high-waisted slacks and suspenders appear even more out of place. He wore it as if this might be one of many similar outfits in his closet. I'd have called him a hipster, but the abundance of muscle suggested he spent more time in the gym than not.

"Damien Vex." He had taken a spot next to the table, leaning against it with his arms folded over his chest. The silver briefcase to his side remained within arm's reach. I assumed it contained the last vial of Malignant's serum.

"You have me at a disadvantage."

"My name isn't important."

"I guess it isn't."

I couldn't tell if he was a run-of-the-mill thug who happened upon an object worth a payday. It'd make the transaction easier if he was. Money would change hands. I'd walk away with the briefcase. He'd walk away a fairly wealthy man. If he understood the value of the item and its importance to Carmen, the price would skyrocket.

"Let me see."

He rested a hand on the silver case. "First, we talk money."

I respected his approach. "Price?"

"Two million." I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. A simple tap and we'd make the transaction, and I could return to judging the guests at my gala.

"Done."

He tried to hide the surprise, but his eyes betrayed him. Had he expected haggling? It suggested he hadn't been prepared for dealing with a man who got what he wanted. Either Carmen would write me a check, or I'd find a way for our accountants to turn it into a tax write-off. Two million wasn't chump change, but it hardly affected my bank account.

"The goods."

He slid off the table. When he turned his back to open the case, I had confirmation I wasn't dealing with a professional. It presented an opportunity for a double cross. A blade beneath the scapula, between ribs, and he'd be nothing more than a lump of flesh for Philip to dispatch.

When he turned about, the case was open. Nestled in a styrofoam casing, a single injector with green fluid in the reservoir. I made a gesture to the case, and he stepped to the side. Upon closer inspection, I let out a chuckle. The Vex Industries logo was laser inscribed into the device. It held a bit of poetic irony.

"So be it."

His eyes darted from my face to the case. The jittery behavior meant our transaction was about to go sideways. He reached out, slamming the case shut.

"Five million."

Laughing probably wasn't the smartest move, but I couldn't resist. He shot in the dark with no clue of the value of his product. My friend hadn't done his research, and that was his fault. I wasn't in the mood to argue the price with vermin.

"Two," I said in a firm tone. "Or we part ways."

I watched as he flexed his hands, fidgeting with his fingers. He was about to make a rash decision. Now that he knew the worth of his merchandise, he probably thought about the other socialites at the gala and what they might pay. Greed would be his undoing.

He reached out, securing the case under his hand. "Five."

"Two," I growled, "and I let you walk away."

He stood upright, puffing out his chest and lifting his shoulders. Yes, a common thug. I should have seen it right away. He probably stole the serum from his boss and hoped to make a quick score before they found out. If he thought I would be intimidated, he sorely underestimated me.

"Or I shake you down and take what I want."

I didn't reply quick enough for him. He snatched me by the shirt, trying to snag my phone from my hands. I punched inside his elbow, breaking his grip. He moved faster than I expected. Both hands gripped my shirt. He pulled me close, about to spew some criminal rhetoric. I seized the opportunity to smash my forehead against his nose. The bone cracked, blood splashing across my face.

"Fucker," he growled.

He lifted me off my feet and slammed me onto the table. I couldn't tell if the crack was from the wood or my spine. I grabbed his hand, turning it about. I tore his thumb out of the socket. Spinning about, I slammed the toe of my shoe into his side. It wasn't a graceful fight, but I would not lose to a low-level crook.

He brought his good fist down, slamming into my stomach with a meaty thud. I tried for another kick, but he caught my leg. Pulling by the belt, he slid me across the table. I braced for impact, shielding my head as I flew against the wall. The room spun as I tried climbing to my feet. I toppled, unable to get my bearings.

"The great Damien Vex," he growled. "I expected more of a fight from the most feared man in Vanguard."

I appreciated the reminder. He stomped toward me, trying to grab my collar. I thrust the heel of my hand out, smashing into his junk. If he thought I'd go down without a fight, he truly didn't understand what the name Vex meant. I won, at all costs.

When he finished howling, he held out his hand. I recognized the nanites pouring down his wrist into his hand. It only took a second before they formed a gun. I had let down my guard. A broken rib and concussion were well-deserved. I should have guessed somebody on Carmen's radar would be craftier than a common crook.

With his other hand, he held his junk. His face had turned red, spit flying with every exhale. He glanced to the floor, my phone near the door. If he stole it and left me alive, I'd have it wiped clean before he made it to the lobby. He'd need my thumb to unlock the device. It didn't matter if it was the finger of a dead man.

His arm straightened. He closed one eye as he held the gun level with my face. I might lunge out of the way of the first shot, but at this range, my chances were slim. There was no cover, nothing to stop a bullet, nothing I could…

The injector. Today wouldn't be the day Damien Vex died.

I seized the serum from the floor and jammed it against my stomach. The green fluid bubbled, vanishing at the same moment I heard the bang of his gun. I turned, throwing my arms over my face, hoping he'd somehow missed.

The impact against my chest knocked me against the wall. I expected pain, a searing agony ripping its way through my sternum and spine. I glanced down, my hands searching for the bullet hole, hoping I could keep my innards from spilling out.

"What the fuck?" Three more shots.

I flinched. They hit my chest. Each impact grew more distant than the last. Another glance down, and I spotted the faint green light in my chest. I had traversed the globe in search of some way to return the powers Sentinel stole. From shamans to elder gods, I had found nothing. All it had taken was a secretive woman with an agenda.

I rose. He turned to run, but I caught him by the belt. With a jerk back, I squeezed a hand around the back of his neck. Power coursed through my body. Time had made me forget the intoxicating effect of being more than a mere mortal. Exquisite didn't quite summarize the sensation.

"You should have taken the offer."

I lifted him off his feet. He tried swinging his arms back. The weak slaps were hardly noticeable. Grabbing him by the crotch of his pants, I lifted him overhead. Yes, this was what I had been missing all these months. I didn't care about the side effects. Whatever powers manifested, it was enough to know I was something, anything, more than human.

"Please. Please. Please." His words wouldn't save him.

I brought him down, dropping to one knee. The man's back bowed before snapping. It happened violently enough his spine threatened to poke its way through his stomach. Shoving him to the side, I rose to my feet. There was no salvaging my shirt, and blood had sprayed across my jacket. I would have to quietly vanish from my event.

I stepped into the hallway to see Phillip with his cart. There was an awkward moment as his brain processed the disheveled man in front of him.

"Phillip, I'm going to need a disposal."

He didn't bat an eye as he nodded. "Yes, sir."

I straightened my tie and proceeded to the elevator. Tomorrow, I'd have Geoff provide Phillip with a hefty bonus and ensure his daughter's education was paid for in full. For now, I needed to get home before somebody found me covered in blood. Tonight had taken an eventful turn.