"And here I was, trying to avoid quests," Dylan muttered.

"What's that, boss?" Cass asked.

"Oh, nothing," Dr. Zlo answered. "Just musing. What do you think of the deal, Cass?"

The butler looked over at his boss, but Quartet interrupted, "I say we take the deal. What's an old man like him going to do if he betrays us?"

"Quartet, don't interrupt," Dr. Zlo said. "Cass's input is more important than yours."

Cass waggled his eyebrows at Quartet before answering Dr. Zlo. "I think as long as he doesn't have a weapon on him, we can use him, boss," the butler replied.

"Alright then," Dr. Zlo said. He aimed his laser at his adhesive and cut Constantine free. "It seems we can work together. For now."

With Dr. Zlo's verbal acceptance, the box in front of Dylan vanished. Only to be replaced by another message.

You have agreed to help Constantine Tsolkovsky, leader of the underground rebellion in Tractus, in his attempt to separate the city from Jetu.

Dylan dismissed the box as soon as it appeared. There was some text below the first sentence, but Dr. Zlo had no time to read. Not when he was about to perform his grand crime!

"You won't regret it," Constantine answered. "Now, what was your plan to get inside the reactor?"

"Have you come for a surprise inspection and infiltrate acting as your bodyguards," Dr. Zlo answered.

Constantine shook his head, "That would work up to the reactor doors. But after that, the only personnel inside have to be approved."

"Are they immune to mind control like yourself?" Dr. Zlo asked.

Constantine thought about it, "You know, I don't think that precaution was put into the safety guidelines."

"Then we have our plan!" Dr. Zlo shouted. "Next stop, the center of Tractus!"

"Hold on," Constantine said. "Before we do this, I have a few people to contact. There are others like me in the city, people who see the rot setting in from Jetu above. They're standing by in key positions, waiting for my orders to strike."

"Fine," Dr. Zlo answered. "Call your minions and get them ready. I'll be outside, refining the plan."

Dr. Zlo marched out with his group, collecting a few stray Jacques as he did. Once outside, Cass made his way next to Dr. Zlo and offered him a drink.

"We aren't going to let him make the call. Right, boss?" Cass asked. "He could be calling the heroes."

"No, the man is on a mission," Dr. Zlo answered. "The fire in his eyes tells me that much. He won't betray us. Of course, I expect a few of his rebellion members aren't so nice."

"So why aren't we stopping him?" Quartet asked, muscling into the conversation. The minion had merged his four bodies together, his body now wholly average.

"Think about it, Quartet," Dr. Zlo said, tapping the minion on the skull with his cane. "I've been out of the spotlight for too long now. No one knows I'm here. We can't have that. I'm the foremost criminal mastermind! People should keep tabs on me wherever and whenever! If they aren't, something is sorely wrong."

"You mean we're going to ruin our stealth mission to grab attention?" Quartet asked in bewilderment.

"Not just any attention," Dr. Zlo said. "Heroic attention."

The center of Tractus housed the great elevator, a gigantic circular structure holding the various pieces of machinery used to send boxes up to the Space City of Jetu. The cable running to the sky stood prominently in the center like a beanstalk, now larger than Dylan could imagine.

Dr. Zlo found it slightly poetic. He was Jack, here to cut down the beanstalk and steal the items from the giant above. With some help, of course.

The villain's crew stood around Constantine, the man dressed in his best suit. The Jacques huddled around him, keeping him just out of sight while Dr. Zlo and his better minions stood on the edges. The villain was in his secret identity to avoid undue conflict before the main event. Dr. Zlo made his way up to the building's doors with minions in tow, acting every bit like professional bodyguards.

The circular building holding the space elevator looked similar to the space needle in Seattle, a piece of engineering Dylan had studied during his days as a student. However, the physics used to hold everything in place here would be impossible in the real world. A building of this size wouldn't be able to hold down the cable. Heck, a city of Tractus' size might not cut it.

"Welcome to the Tractus Elevator, or the Leva, according to the locals," A receptionist said. "How can I help you today? Are you looking to buy a ticket?"

The Jacques opened up to reveal Constantine, the man stepping forward with authority.

"I'm here to inspect the reactor core," the man said.

The receptionist looked down at his computer, seeing nothing about the inspection on his calendar. He gave a quizzical look to Constantine, "I'm sorry, sir, you are?"

"Constantine Tsolkovsky," The man answered. "I designed the elevator."

The receptionist's eyes bulged at the words. "Sir! It is an honor to meet you. I've read all your work! I'm studying to be an engineer like yourself, actually, and I–"

"We don't have time for this," Dr. Zlo said to the receptionist. "Mr. Tsolkovsky is very busy."

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry," the receptionist said.

"That's alright," Constantine answered. "Why don't you take a break? Get a superior to deal with my inspection?"

"Of course, sir," the receptionist said giddily.

Dr. Zlo sighed, "That's going to take more time, sir."

Constantine leaned over, "I'm not about to let a bright-eyed kid like him get caught up in this."

Dr. Zlo snorted. A righteous villain, of all the things he had to team up with. Shaking his head, Dr. Zlo looked around the room for possible threats.

The Leva's walls were the same pearl white as the rest of Tractus, giving the elevator a sterile feeling. A few security guards stood around the elevator doors, but they looked more like rent-a-cops than professional soldiers. More concerning was the large number of passengers waiting for the elevator to arrive. There was no telling if one of them was a hero in disguise.

The passengers waited on rows of metal chairs, the seats linked together like those in airports. A few better chairs were off to the side, people in fine suits lounging in them like kings of old. That side held more receptionists as well, men and women in tight garments that forced them to walk with small strides lest they rip the fabric. Though from what Dr. Zlo could see, the VIPs in the chairs wouldn't mind that happening. It seemed Constantine was right about the rich in Jetu being pigs.

Cameras dotted the ceiling as well, large fisheye lenses that captured the majority of the room. They weren't a big deal to Dr. Zlo. If people wanted to watch his greatness, they could. However, the villain did detect what looked to be automated guns hidden next to the cameras. The large circles that dotted the area exposing the hidden machines. At least, guns were what Dylan expected after playing games for most of his life. Automated defenses were a staple in games like World of Supers.

There didn't seem to be other defenses besides the automated guns, though Dr. Zlo wouldn't put it past whoever built this place to have more surprises in store. He glanced over at the vents. It was possible they held a way to release sleeping gas. And the janitors could be special forces in disguise. That last one was a stretch, the janitors all old men, but Dr. Zlo wasn't about to get surprised and lose his essential engine for the Zlomobile.

A supervisor appeared after a minute, bowing reverentially to Constantine and ushering the man into the building.

"I can't believe you've come all this way yourself, sir," the supervisor said. "You normally send engineers under you."

"They were all busy today," Constantine answered. "Ungrateful lot."

The supervisor looked nervously at Constantine, taking note of the man's disposition, "Well, sir. I hope you find everything in order. I'll take you down as far as I can. In the meantime, would you like a refreshment?"

"No time," Constantine answered. "Besides, I'd rather have drinks from my personal chef. You understand."

"Of course," the supervisor answered.

Dr. Zlo saw the man sigh a little, possibly in relief, but there was a chance it was in disappointment. The man seemed a bit overeager to see Constantine. Acting like a bodyguard, Dr. Zlo took a step closer to the supervisor, a subtle warning to the NPC.

The supervisor glanced over at Dr. Zlo, noticing the movement. Hastily, the NPC took Constantine and his group down a few spiraling stairs near the elevator. They were led to a short hallway with more guards, these obviously more professional than the last group.

"Halt," they commanded. "State your business."

"The Constantine Tsolkovsky, here to inspect our reactor," the supervisor said excitedly. He bowed once more before making his way back up the stairs.

The two guards didn't share the same enthusiasm, exchanging looks.

"What's with the protection?" a guard asked.

"I'm an important figure," Constantine answered. "There are plenty of people who might be out to get me."

"Well, they can't come inside," the guard replied.

"Now, dear, don't you think that's a tad harsh?" Mabel said. Her words reached the two guards, putting them under her control.

"You're right," the guard answered. "There's no telling what dangers lurk in the city. Best to have a detail at all times."

"That's better," Mabel said. "So you'll let us all inside?"

"Of course," the guard answered. He swiped a badge against a card reader near the door. The entrance hissed open, revealing another hallway and a decontamination room.

"Good boys," Mabel said. She patted one on the cheek as she walked past.

"Alright," Constantine said. "The reactor is located over here. The power source will be inside. Take it, and the elevator will halt. Jetu will be forced to listen to my demands."

"You heard the man," Dr. Zlo said to his minions. "Let's go find a reactor."