Page 6 of Villainous Rise

Not because it was Dawn. Dawn was fine. Great, even. Smart, funny.

No, the problem was what that laughter represented: the fact that Menace had somehow stumbled ass-backward into a functional relationship while I was reduced to pathetically monitoring security feeds.

I flexed my right forearm, feeling the familiar tingle as the Hammer activated. The metal beneath my skin warmed, lines of blue energy tracing the tattoo-like patterns that marked where I’d integrated the artifact into my body. Not my most comfortable body modification, but fuck if it wasn’t worth it.

“Come on, you stubborn little bastard,” I muttered, watching the microscopic components of the cuff realign under my influence.

The Hammer’s power flowed through my fingertips, manipulating matter. I could feel the components responding, shifting with a precision no human hand could achieve. The sensation was intoxicating—controlling the instrument that would control Annie’s power.

But I knew better than to indulge the Hammer for too long. Twenty seconds in, and the burning started. Thirty seconds, and it felt like molten metal replacing the blood in my veins. The Tinkerer had designed his toy for short, controlled bursts. Not sustained use.

I pulled back, cutting the connection as sweat beaded on my forehead. The blue glow faded, leaving behind the dull ache that always followed. Worth it, though. The relay was perfect now.

“Fuck,” I hissed, massaging my forearm. The implantation had been my own design—a marriage of the Hammer’s power with my own body. Elegant in theory. Excruciating in practice.

But pain was temporary. Power was forever.

The lab door slid open, and Menace strolled in looking like he’d just won the fucking lottery. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he had that particularly relaxed expression that only comes from recent, thorough sex.

“Morning, sunshine,” he chirped. “Coffee?”

I glared at the steaming mug he held out like it was personally responsible for my current state of celibacy. “I’ve been awake for five hours.”

“And yet somehow not less grumpy.” He set the mug down anyway, peering at my project. “That the cuff?”

“No, it’s a nuclear-powered dildo. What the fuck do you think?”

“Someone’s touchy.” He leaned against my workbench, crossing his arms. “Dawn says Annie has to oversee two new junior Heroes.”

The casual mention of her name was so unexpected, I stopped breathing for a second. “Fascinating,” I recovered. “Did you also discuss any other topics I don’t give a shit about while you were fucking her senseless?”

“Actually, we were too busy with the fucking senseless part for much conversation.” His smile was deliberately provocative. “Unlike some people, I don’t have performance anxiety about seeing my girlfriend in two weeks.”

I pointed my soldering tool at him. “I will melt your face off. To death.”

“You’d miss me.” He glanced at the security feed still running in the corner of my display. “Besides, who else would pretend not to notice you’ve been stalking Annie?”

“It’s surveillance,” I muttered.

“Right.”

I scowled at him, but we both knew I wasn’t actually angry. Not at him, anyway. I was angry at myself and the fact that in three hundred and thirty-six hours I’d have to face Annie and pretend I hadn’t spent every day since Dread thinking about her.

Menace ignored my glare and settled deeper into the chair across from my workbench like he was planning to stay for a while. He even had the audacity to prop his feet up on my spare parts container.

“By all means, make yourself comfortable,” I said, pointedly shoving his feet off. “It’s not like I’m trying to work on something that could prevent catastrophic powers from being unleashed.”

“Always so dramatic.” He immediately put his feet back up. “Would it kill you to take a five-minute break from your brooding routine?”

I jabbed my soldering tool in his direction. “I’m about to find out if this would actually kill you.”

He just laughed, which only irritated me more. There was something profoundly annoying about someone being immune to your threats after they’ve seen you drunk and crying over engineering schematics at one in the morning.

“I’m throwing a party this weekend,” he announced, examining his fingernails with exaggerated casualness.

I waited for the part where what he was planning involved me. When nothing followed, I raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I’m having it here.”