Epilogue #2
My brain helpfully supplied that my guest was fifteen minutes late. Perhaps he wouldn’t come after all. Part of me hoped he wouldn’t. Another part, the part that had brought me here instead of handling this through proxies and subterfuge, needed this resolved face to face.
I felt the change in the wind, signaling an arrival. I didn’t turn, just listened to his feet touchdown on the grass, the crunch of footsteps on the path.
Would he try to kill me? I almost smiled at the thought. He could try. But I hadn’t come for a fight.
The footsteps drew closer, then stopped several yards away. I still didn’t turn, my eyes fixed on the glowing bridge spanning the bay, its reflection rippling in the dark water below.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said.
A figure moved into my peripheral vision, the faint blue energy signature unmistakable even without looking directly at him.
Havoc didn’t look at me, just stared out at the bay as I was doing.
“I wasn’t sure I would either,” he said after a long silence, voice clipped.
“What do you want, Cipher?” Havoc asked, not bothering to hide his impatience. “Your message said it was important.”
I let my fingers brush against the small box in my pocket once more. This moment had played out differently in my head. Now that it was happening, I found myself hesitating. A strange sensation for someone who prided himself on decisive action.
“I have something for you,” I finally said, pulling the box from my pocket. “Or rather, for Annie.”
I held it out between us, the offering hanging in the air longer than was comfortable.
“Take it,” I said. “Please.” The word felt foreign in my mouth. When was the last time I’d genuinely said please to anyone?
Havoc finally took the box. He turned it over once, twice, then reluctantly opened it.
Inside, nestled in black foam, was a cuff. Unlike Annie’s current bulky model, this one was elegant, like jewelry. It was slim, with a delicate pattern etched into its surface.
Havoc’s eyes narrowed. “What is this supposed to be?”
“The Alliance’s cuff design for Annie is atrocious,” I said, watching Havoc examine the device. “Embarrassing for them, really. There are too many flaws in it—power fluctuations, irregular feedback loops. Did you know it sends diagnostic data back to them every six hours? Terribly invasive.”
I gestured toward the cuff in the box. “This one actually works properly. The power suppression matrix is distributed more evenly, and I’ve added a secondary failsafe system that kicks in if the primary dampening field destabilizes.”
Havoc’s eyes narrowed as he studied the delicate patterns etched into the metal. “You used the Hammer for this.”
I shrugged slightly, keeping my expression neutral. “I had some new-found help with the design constraints. The materials manipulation aspect was particularly enlightening.”
The energy around Havoc’s hands pulsed slightly in warning. “Why would you do this? What’s your angle, Cipher?”
I slipped my hands into my pockets, adopting a casual stance that belied the tension coiling through my body.
The truth, that I couldn’t bear the thought of Annie suffering with faulty technology that could fail catastrophically, wasn’t something I was prepared to admit aloud.
Not to Havoc. Perhaps not even to myself.
“I was bored,” I said. “The coding challenge was interesting. Reverse-engineering the Alliance’s work, improving upon their failures, it’s what I do. Consider it professional courtesy.”
Havoc studied my face, searching for deception. Let him look. I’d perfected my mask long before I ever donned Cipher’s.
Havoc closed the box with a snap, his eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you give this to her yourself?”
I laughed. “Would you let me within a hundred yards of her?”
The blue energy around his hands intensified, casting eerie shadows across his face. “If you ever come near Annie again, I will kill you.” The words were delivered with such calm certainty that lesser men would have backed away.
“There’s your answer.” I gestured toward the box in his hand. “And even in the off chance I could get close enough to give it to her, she’d never accept anything from me.” Something twisted in my chest at the admission.
“She almost died because of you,” Havoc said, voice dangerously quiet.
“I’ve built in all the necessary override protocols,” I continued, ignoring the accusation and focusing instead on the technical details, the safer ground of circuits and systems rather than the messy reality of human emotion.
“Your biometric signature is already programmed as the master control. The cuff will recognize you and respond to your commands, just like the Alliance one.”
I nodded toward the city lights. “You can have your people examine it, run whatever tests you want. You’ll find it’s simply better technology. Nothing more.”
The lie came easily. There was something more, much more, but Havoc didn’t need to know that I’d spent three sleepless days ensuring that this cuff would never fail her, that her powers, Halcyon’s powers, would remain dormant, that she would never have to feel that fear again.
I’d read the rest of her files after that night in the crucible. I knew what she’d taken. A different person would have wanted those powers, the power to influence others. Make them move to their every beck and call.
But not Annie. Never Annie. I could make her safe in this one thing.
“Why did you really do this?” Havoc’s voice was edged with suspicion.
I turned away from his penetrating gaze, focusing intently on the Phoenix bridge. Its golden glow created a perfect line of light, beautiful in its symmetry. Easier to look at than the man beside me.
“The League is reviewing my application for Super Villain status. I’ve met all the criteria.
The ratings, the signature victories, the public appeal metrics.
Dread’s death actually accelerated the timeline.
It’s left an opening.” I paused, feeling Havoc’s eyes boring into me.
“I’m also submitting my application to be your official Nemesis. ”
The energy around Havoc’s hands flickered, but I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon.
“I can’t have my potential Nemesis harboring a personal vendetta because I...” The words caught briefly. “Because I nearly got his Keeper killed. This,” I nodded toward the box in his hand, “is simply good business. Something to clear the slate.”
Havoc snorted. “You expect me to believe you made this to smooth your career path?” Havoc’s voice was dangerously quiet.
I knew he wasn’t fooled.
I couldn’t bear the thought of Annie living with that fear. I’d worked without sleep creating something that would protect her, because some part of me needed to make this right even if she never knew about it.
I shifted my weight, suddenly aware of every small sound, the waves crashing against the cliffs below, the soft rustle of Havoc’s coat in the breeze.
Normally, I found silence productive, even comforting.
This silence felt like an accusation. I wanted to fill it with explanations, with the technical specifics of what I’d created, with anything to dispel the weight of judgment I felt pressing down on me.
But I kept my mouth shut, counting the seconds.
Finally, Havoc pocketed the box, the small movement drawing my attention back to him. He rose a few feet into the air, but he didn’t leave, just hovered there, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Make another one,” he said abruptly. “One that Annie can remove herself if she chooses to.”
I shook my head, frustrated that he didn’t understand the inherent contradiction in his request. “That’s not possible. The entire purpose of the dampening technology is that it can’t be self-removed. If she could take it off at will, it would defeat—“
“Find a way,” Havoc cut me off, his tone making it clear the discussion was over. Then he was gone, a streak of energy against the sky, leaving me alone on the cliff’s edge.
The wind picked up, colder now without the last traces of sunlight. I could smell rain coming.
What I couldn’t tell Havoc was that I’d already tried.
Three separate design iterations, each one failing at the same fundamental problem: how to create a device that could simultaneously maintain an unbreakable dampening field while allowing its user the autonomy to disable it.
The problem wasn’t technological, it was logical. A paradox.
I’d failed at it. Repeatedly.
For a moment, my mind drifted to the elegant equations that had guided my design of the cuff.
The delicate balance of energy suppression fields, the intricate circuit pathways I’d crafted with the Hammer’s help.
The work had been challenging, absorbing, the kind of problem that would typically consume me for days, wiping away all other thoughts.
Yet even in the depths of that technical fugue, Annie’s face had remained, haunting every calculation, every design decision.
Havoc’s demand echoed in my mind. Make another one. One she could remove.
Annie deserved the freedom that solution would provide. The confidence of knowing she controlled her own power, her own destiny. The Alliance was treating her like a tool, a weapon to be sheathed when not in use. Their crude technology reflected their cruder thinking. She deserved better.
So I’d keep trying, keep pushing against the limits of what was possible. I’d solve this impossible equation for her.
The scent of rain grew stronger as the clouds rolled faster across the bay. Soon they would cover the city. I remained motionless, city lights blurring as I stared. Logic insisted this obsession was irrational. Annie was Havoc’s keeper, a temporary amusement. A game I’d played for too long.
But standing alone in the growing darkness, I couldn’t maintain the lie.
I’d let her get under my skin.
I’d welcomed her there.
My Annie.
THE STORY WILL CONTINUE IN BOOK TWO:
VILLAINOUS RISE