“I hear the new director is an alterhuman.”

  “Yeah? Ain’t that like... a conflict of interest? We like, monitor alterhumans to make sure they don’t get out of hand. How do we know he wouldn’t go against us?”

  “Well... Carver was an agent for a few years, you know. At least, that’s what I hear. Probably a field agent, you know the type. Director Weaver probably trusted him more than any of us. And anyway-”

  A hush fell over the break room as Anya stepped inside. The woman tended to have that effect in Fort Argent. Unsurprising, given she stood at the right hand of the man who could make or break any career. “Don’t mind me,” she said, adjusting her spectacles. Her pupils shone with a vibrant sapphire hue. Her smile was sweet and innocent, yet it still struck dread into the conversing trio. “Just grabbing some coffee.”

  She did just that, humming a jaunty tune to herself as she prepared a cup of steaming, jet black coffee. The other agents watched her all the while.

  “Director Carver has been with the agency for a long time, you know,” she said, not looking up as she poured two sachets of sweetener into the steaming black liquid. “Did quite a lot of wetwork for Director Weaver. You’d struggle to find a man more loyal to ANVIL.” She smiled over the shoulder at the men before turning and making for the door. “Food for thought,” she said idly.

  The three agents breathed a sigh of relief as she left. The only thing they were thinking of was the fear of Anya telling the director of their gossip.

  Anya, in turn, spared those men no mind as she walked through the gleaming well-lit hallways of Fort Argent. She walked briskly past offices and cubicles, monitoring stations and comm rooms, sipping her coffee as she made a beeline for the elevator. Other agents and guards made way for her, well aware of her position.

  It was a quick elevator ride to reach the underground levels of Fort Argent, where much of ANVIL’s research was conducted. The director was waiting for her as she emerged from the elevator, dressed in a new suit. “I expect more punctuality, Anya,” he said.

  She offered him a smile. “Apologies, sir.”

  He grunted and turned. “Come on. Let’s see what Peel has for us.”

  ANVIL’s larger facilities had morgues in them, equipped to do postmortem examinations on alterhuman physiques that requird specialist tools. Fortunately they were rarely used for superheroes, save for the occasional unlucky rookie. But events like this, the mystery corpses in the alley, gave them much more use.

  Peel was a stooping old man, bald as an egg, and clean shaven. He stood a few paces from an autopsy table, glowing with the light of a pale blue stasis bubble. Beneath that lay one of the clone corpses. “Director,” he greeted.

  “Doc. What’re we dealing with here? Guessing they’re not you average everyday alley scum.”

  “Certainly not. It’s been difficult getting samples, that self destruct was quite brutal and it naturally has my team and I on edge to be too forceful. Even so...” He gestured to a monitor, showing a series of diagrams and models. “We managed to gleam some things. This DNA? I won’t bore you with the particulars, but it’s clearly artificial in nature. These men were synthetic lifeforms of some kind.”

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  “Doctor Biohazard’s work?” Jon asked, tilting his head.

  “No. Doesn’t match the signature of his work, or any flesh-worker tied to the Guild.”

  Jon gave an annoyed grunt. “So the Guild isn’t behind this? Guess we can rule out these things being from the Shadow Cabinet too. And the Lee Clan, naturally. Those hicks don’t go for help outside the family, and Lord’s Port isn’t their turf anyway. And this isn’t how the Encounterists act either.”

  “We’ve cross-referenced every record we have. These things are... unique. Lab grown, with synthetic muscles and dermal weaves rendering them far stronger than a normal human. I’m... worried about anyone being able to mass produce these things.”

  Jon stared at the corpse. The skin was already sunken and wrinkled, like rotting fruit. “And the little... explosion trick one of them pulled?”

  A small smile crossed Peel’s face, try as he might to mute his interest. “Fascinating stuff. While we don’t know exactly what caused that self destruct, we do know how it functions. His chest underwent sudden, colossal cell growth. Think of it like a hyper-aggressive form of cancer. Those rapidly multiplying cells then became conduits for an energy core, which our scans detected in the other two corpses. Those conduits, once charged, detonate. If you hadn’t been there, Director, that whole alley would have been flattened.”

  Anya shuddered a bit where she stood. “Who the fuck makes something like this?”

  “A dangerous mind,” said Jon. Still, he would admit, it had been fortunate that he reacted in time and that his aura had been strong enough to absorb the worst of the blast. It was one of those little quirks about alterhumans that scientists were still stupefied about even decades later, a sort of passive field that suffused their bodies and interacted with any objects they touched. It was the reason why Dreadnoughts didn’t accidentally yank doors out of their moorings every time they went to open one, why Speedsters didn’t shred people out of existence when carrying them to safety at hypersonic speeds.

  Or, indeed, why superhero costumes could endure a great deal of damage without leaving the wearer in the nude.

  The best answer scientists could come up with when it came to this ‘aura’ was the same one they used every time alterhuman powers left them scratching their heads. That the known laws of physics simply ‘shrugged’ in their presence.

  “Well we know what these things are, at least. But still no closer to understanding what the fuck they were doing, or who sent them.” He turned to Anya, who primly stood to attention under his gaze. “Have the analysts run a sweep over national police cases from the past... six months or so. Compile anything about break-ins or burglaries focused on stores similar to that electronics join.”

  “On it,” Anya said, her fingers gliding across her tablet with practised efficiency.

  “Peel, I’ll trust you and your people to do what you can to get a more thorough autopsy.”

  “We’re still puzzling out a way to remove the core without triggering it. But I think we’ll find a way,” he said, offering his boss a grin.

  Jon nodded. “I should hope so. I have a dozen other fires to put out, and I’d rather not have this take up all our time.” He spared Anya another glance. “Any update on Shock Jock, for that matter?”

  “Trauma people gave him some sedatives, spoke to him a bit. Even triggered the calming lights in his room. He hasn’t said anything different from what he told you.”

  “Probably a dead end, then.” Jon grunted. Not that he expected much from a dumb kid playing hero. “Have them cut him loose some time tomorrow. We’re not running a bed and breakfast. If we need him again, we know where he lives.”

  “Of course,” Anya said, penning another note in her tablet. “We’re... in contact with Tara Goldsmith’s family. We’ll be able to return her remains to them around that same time.”

  “Right,” said Jon shaking his head. “What a goddamn mess.” No doubt the heroes were going to go spare over that. Golden Sparrow might have been a nobody rookie, but heroes took the death of anyone in their ranks very personally. No doubt a few hotheads would be baying for blood over it, as had happened in the past. It was one of the reasons why most of the saner heroes and villains avoided killing each other.

  It was always kicking a hornet’s nest when it happened.

  “Let’s see...” He paused, settling his hands on his hips. “Gotta attend that budget meeting. Then read the reports on Quick Lee and Strong Lee robbing hat oil truck in Kentucky. The sightings of Guild operatives in Washington too. Ah, right, and those Next Gen morons caused even more property damage in Sterling City. Full fucking slate to check through,” he said. “But after that... I think I’ll pay Lord’s Port another visit.”

  An incident like this would no doubt get Raptor poking his beak in it.