***Chemestro***

“So like, what’s your secret identity?” Sin-eater asked, sidling up close to him, her arms crossed under her chest.

“What?” Chemestro asked, cocking his head. The question was completely out of left field. He’d been explaining due process and Cline’s law.

“You knooow,” Sin-eater said, wiggling in place, peering up at him through her eyelashes. “When two supers like each other very much…they’ll share their secret identity with each other. It’s the ultimate expression of intimate trust.”

“I already know your name’s Peggy. We literally arrested you outside your house, in your civvies.”

“I HATE that name!” Sin-eater shouted, causing Chemestro to lean backwards at the sudden shift in volume.

“Does THIS look like a Peggy!?” Sin-eater demanded, motioning to herself from top to bottom. Her overflowing blouse, black makeup, tight black fishnet, and occasional neon highlights had only become more pronounced once she’d decided to learn the supering trade in exchange for a reduced sentence.

“I don’t know what a Peggy is supposed to look like.” Chemestro answered with complete seriousness.

“You know, an old lady who gets together with her friends once a week to crochet doilies and gab about whose niece is dating whose nephew. That’s a Peggy!”

“Noted,” Chemestro said, “Now, about Cline’s law,”

“So, since you know my name, I should get yours, right?” Sin-eater interrupted, taking a different tactic.

Chemestro took his hand off the paragraph he’d been explaining and dragged it down his face, massaging the tense muscles there.

“If I tell you my real name, will you stop asking questions unrelated to the topic of study?”

“Sure!” Sin-eater said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“It’s twelve forty two,” Chemestro said. “Now the reason Cline’s law was so widely adopted is because - “

“It’s not twelve forty-two, it’s three thirty,” Sin-eater said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“My name is twelve forty two.” Chemestro clarified. “Now-“

“Your NAME is twelve forty two!?” Sin eater shouted.

“Yes-“

“WHY!?”

“It’s the designation I was assigned at birth, now you promised to-“

“Oh, you poor sweet baby,” Sin-eater said, engulfing Chemestro in a hug, the fishnet barely covering her chest scratching his face.

Chemestro grit his teeth and muscled back the urge to reflexively punch Sin-eater in the face and simply slipped through her arms. Progress.

“I can tell that you’re distracted. Further study will be nonproductive,” Chemestro said, closing the book of law.

Sin-eater seemed to take that as tacit admission that he’d given up, because she unleashed a flood of questions.

“So who gave you that name? How were you born? Where did you grow up? What do you think about having kids?”

“Allow me to show you something that will answer all your questions.” Chemestro said, offering her his arm.

Giggling, the pale girl took it, gabbing alongside him as they headed for the exercise room.

The sliding door opened to reveal Dazzle on a high tech treadmill, his arms and legs shackled to the machine by restraints that moved with his jogging pace.

The tortured teleporter looked over at Sin-eater, locking his gaze on her. The sheer desperation in his expression stopped her in her tracks.

“Help. Me!” He panted quietly between breaths.

Sin-eater tried to take a step back, but Chemestro pushed her forward.

“Supers risk their lives every day and fight threats that boggle the mind,” Chemestro explained. “So many winners are decided by a matter of feet ran, inches jumped, minutes lasted. Professional supers are also professional athletes. That’s why I make sure my team is in peak physical condition. Remember Dazzle, this isn’t a punishment. This is a reward for doing well. The opportunity to improve yourself and find zen through exercise.”

Dazzle sobbed between breaths.

“Bah, I’m paying you millions of dollars a year.” Chemestro groused, inwardly disappointed that Dazzle didn’t seem to enjoy the relaxation of mindless exercise as much as he did.

“Not worth it,” Dazzle cried.

“That’s just the pain talking.” Chemestro said dismissively. Many people would do much more for millions of dollars.

“Umm…I thought you were going to answer my questions?” Sin-eater asked, her cheeks turning pale.

“This is the answer to your questions!” Chemestro said with a smile, using his telekinesis to lift the girl up and place her on another of the treadmills beside Dazzle.

She gave a squeak of surprise when she was lifted into the air, followed by a gasp as the cold metal manacles clamped down around her wrists.

“Now, I did some research, and since you’re female we’ll aim for a performance weight of fifteen percent body fat, rather than the twelve percent target I have for Dazzle. You have a long way to go, so you might as well make your peace with the machine. I’ll see you two in an hour.”

Chemestro set Sin-eater’s pace to a steady power-walk and walked out of the room.

“Did he just call me FAT!?” Sin-eater’s voice rang off the steel siding of the Nexus exercise room.

Once the door closed behind him, Chemestro allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He went back to his private room and turned on the TV while he worked his way through his exercise regimen.

The news flicked on, showing 812 standing in front of the camera, smiling at the scene of a cowl’s arrest. “How did I trigger?” Warp asked the interviewer. “Well, I was just standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the light when I saw a little girl run out to get a ball.”

“It came to me in a flash. I jumped out to try and get her out of the way of a truck, when my powers just…showed up. I was able to warp the space around us and make the truck slide around us…mostly.”

Warp motioned to the scar on his brow.

“That’s how I got this scar from the truck’s mirror.”

I gave you that scar, Chemestro thought. He’d split 812’s eyebrow with an elbow strike during a ranked sparring, securing first place.

Rinng!

Chemestro saw Father’s symbol on the caller I.D. and his heartrate immediately spiked. He took a deep breath and brought it back down. He hadn’t heard from Father since he’d been outplayed by Paradox.

“Father.” Chemestro said, raising the phone to his ear.

“Come in for your new assignment.”

“Understood,” Chemestro said, hanging up. Father never said any more than that over the phone.

Now the question was: Was the new assignment a euphemism for disposal or an actual assignment?

Chemestro glanced down at the magical protective bracers that had become part of his ensemble.

Only one way to find out.

***Later***

“Prompt as always, Chemstro.” Neuron said as they walked through Neuron’s lair.

“Sir,” Chemestro nodded, hands clasped behind his back.

“You’re quite popular nowadays, aren’t you?” neuron asked.

“I don’t know, sir,” Chemestro said. He was generally too busy working, and had no frame of reference for what counted as popular and unpopular. Sure, there seemed to be crowds wherever he went, and the cowls he arrested often asked for his autograph, but that wasn’t popularity. That was incredibly inconvenient.

“I saw a child wearing a shirt with your likeness on it. I’d say that qualifies.”

“As you say,” Chemestro said.

“I saw you save Paradox from that monster,” Father said.

“I have no excuse.”

“I’m starting to think your role masquerading as a hero is beginning to confuse you about the nature of your existence. Why else would you pull the person I PERSONALLY INSTRUCTED YOU TO KILL…out of harm’s way?”

Internally, Chemestro knew it was because he’d been so hyperfocused on fighting with maximum efficiency that his ultimate goal had been forgotten, but Father didn’t like excuses anyway, so he stayed silent.

“We missed the mark with you, Chemestro. The public outcry isn’t quite strong enough to force Solaris to make you an Anchor. I blame myself for mismanaging your career, but you can still serve a purpose.

You know what people’s favorite story is?” Father asked, changing the subject.

“No sir.” Chemestro said.

“People’s favorite story is when a beloved icon does a heel turn, and a young, relatable protagonist rises up to put a stop to their reign of terror.”

“I don’t know what a heel turn is, sir.”

“A heel turn is when a good guy, suddenly and shockingly becomes a bad guy.” Father said, and Chemestro began to catch up.

“You wish for me to turn cowl and use the outrage at my sudden betrayal and subsequent defeat at Warp’s hands to slingshot 812’s career to the upper ranks of the Nexus?” Chemestro asked.

“Exactly.”

Chemestro weighed that for a fraction of a second. He cared nothing for his duty as a superhero, and if his mission dictated it, he was fine being used as a springboard for one of his brothers to reach the top ranks of Nexus.

However…His duty as the leader of a team was to ensure that they benefitted first and foremost from his leadership. If he turned cowl, they would suffer serious setbacks, including imprisonment, asset forfeiture, and loss of custody.

The tenets of leadership laid out by Locust dictated that he refuse.

“Understood,” Chemestro said, nodding. He had been learning leadership in order to practice his role as a superhero and potential leader of the city. If he was to become a cowl and a footnote in someone else’s rise to power, then his team was no longer important.

No matter how wrong it felt.

“Excellent. My secretary has a list of places to rob, crimes to commit, and irritants to dispose of. Keep the damage small enough that Solaris isn’t prompted to interfere personally, but don’t forget to make sure you’re seen at every site. I want the public to turn against you…hard.”

“Yes sir.” Chemestro said, stuffing his ‘feelings’ back down in the pit of his stomach, where they belonged.

They kept creeping back up.

Chemestro ignored them as Father continued ranting, finally taking the envelope from Neuron’s secretary on the way out the door.

He unsealed the envelope and glanced over the contents.

I need to talk to Lu’ann about this.

***Later***

“Of course you shouldn’t do it!” Lu’ann exclaimed, standing from her chair in a rare moment of discomposure.

Chemestro frowned.

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong and you shouldn’t do it just because someone tells you to! Obviously!”

“I’m not getting it.” Chemestro said. “I’ve had to hurt people my entire life to get the privilege of leaving Father’s supervision. What’s different about this?”

“Do you have anyone you care about in your life?” Lu’ann asked.

“No.”

Lu’ann’s eyes narrowed slightly and she gave him a long, weighing gaze.

“Something you may not understand is that nearly everyone in the world has people they care about, and most people have at least a little empathy. When they see people they care about get hurt, it hurts them.”

“Uhuh,” Chemestro grunted.

“That’s why the social contract exists. We behave, we follow the law, because we wish to avoid harm to other’s loved ones, and they do the same for ours.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to put myself in direct opposition to Father.” Chemestro said.

“Give me the list again. I’ll make a compromise.”

Chemestro handed her the list of tasks Father had given him.

“Do NOT do these crimes,” She said, underlining all the rape and murder. “the heists and property damage and all that other stuff are fine….but these…don’t do these.”

“Why not?”

“These two will cause permanent damage to your psyche. If you do either of these, I will know and I will refuse to see you anymore.”

Chemestro drummed his fingers on the couch, devoting his whole attention to Lu’ann. Was it a bluff, or did therapists have a foolproof way of discerning if someone had committed certain crimes? The woman was generally insightful enough that he wouldn’t put it past her.

“I’ve killed before,” Chemestro said quietly.

“Did you have a choice?” Lu’ann asked.

“Do I have one now?” Chemestro shot back. Lu’ann simply stared at him, waiting for him to come to his own conclusions.

“…We’ve covered choice before, haven’t we?” Chemestro asked, thinking back to the candies she’d offered him. The real world wasn’t so narrow, and that was the realm Chemestro operated in now. Not Father’s petri dish.

“Perhaps you need to think outside the box on this one.” Lu’ann said, nodding.

***Maria Hernandez, Actress, Singer, Songwriter***

Maria was enjoying a short break between shows, putting her feet up in the penthouse suite provided to her by the casino. Her feet positively ached from dancing in high heels, but Maria would do a lot more than that for the sheer amount of money on the table.

Hell, she’d probably do it for a lot less as long as she got the attention, worship, and obsession. But the money was great, too.

Maria grabbed a beer, then sat down and pried off one of the torture devices on one foot, then the other, melting down into the recliner with an undignified groan, putting her feet up on the ottoman and swigging the beer.

Maria let out a belch her father would’ve been proud of and turned on the TV, checking in with the latest Super news.

That new Warp boy was fine, but he didn’t hold a candle to Chemestro. Maria was a sucker for the blonde and blue.

“Excuse me, miss?” A voice came from her left.

“Daniel, that better not be you, because I’ve still got an hour and a half, so if it’s you, you better make peace with your god, because…” Maria’s voice trailed off, her jaw going slack.

Chemestro was floating in her penthouse.

Chemestro, the newest sweeper with the highest kill speed in the last twenty years, a pillar that Franklin city rested, on, who was handsomer than the devil and looked like his six-pack had been carved out of marble…was floating in her penthouse.

“What, um, what are you doing here?” Maria asked fixing her posture, and hiding the beer beside the other side of the recliner.

“I was hoping I could as for your assistance with something. A rather large favor.”

“Oh?”

“I’m on a secret mission from Nexus: I’m trying to catch a very bad man, a cowl, and to do that, I need to severely damage my public image before he will even consider meeting with me.” Chemestro said, floating over to sit across from her.

“What-what do you need me to do?”

“Publicly announce that I forced you into nonconsensual intercourse.” Chemestro said, his gaze unable to meet hers.

“You want me to accuse you of rape?” Maria asked, her jaw dropping.

“If you would be so kind.” Chemestro said.

That could ruin her career. Or send it to the moon. The whims of fame were nothing to sneeze at. The backlash against accusing a popular figure of something that awful were often severe, as the figure’s fanbase would rally to defend them and attack her.

Plus…it was a deadly serious, mean-spirited thing he was asking of her. Maria didn’t have a deadly bone in her body. Mean-spirited was debatable.

“Young man, I’m not sure you know what you’re asking me to do. It’s horrible. Your reputation may never recover.” Maria said. “My reputation may never recover.”

“I will engage in a series of serious crimes from tomorrow onward, in order to prime my fanbase to turn against me. You may accuse me at your leisure, or not at all if you wish to avoid the risk. I have made this request of over a dozen actresses, in order to add validity to their claims and dilute any backlash they might face.”

“Oh my god,” Maria said, dumbstruck. “You’re serious. This guy you’re trying to catch must be terrible for you to go to these lengths.”

“Oh, he is,” Chemestro said, nodding. “And he’ll never see it coming.”